I just did not know what to do. I was desperate. My little girl! What do you do when you don’t know where to turn? When do you do when you would do anything, but you can’t do anything? I was ready to try anything. She was so ill. Would Jesus just possibly be able to help? I had heard he was a greater helper.
I didn’t want to leave her, and yet I was desperate to go and find some help – both at the same time. What was I to do? It was worth asking Jesus. It had to be. Most folk would not have expected one of the leaders of the synagogue to approach someone like Jesus, but I didn’t care. I was ready to do anything.
So, I found myself approaching Jesus, asking him to come to my house, to see if he could do something for my precious daughter. My spirits rose as he immediately agreed. Maybe there was a chance. Maybe something could be done. It was looking hopeful – but, then, he kept being interrupted. He kept stopping. One after another asked him to do something to help – and he stopped and listened to them all.
It was so frustrating. I just wanted to get him to our house. It was taking so long. But what could I do?
Almost inevitably, the news came that it was too late. Servants came with the news that she was dead. “Don’t bother the Teacher any longer.” I was distraught. You can imagine. But Jesus remained calm, and kept slowly, still ever so slowly, making his way towards my house. What was the point? Yet I couldn’t stop him. I imagined that he wanted to pay his condolences. I didn’t really want them – but I could hardly say that, could I?
Eventually we got to our house. Mourning was already in full swing. She was only a little girl. It was hardly surprising that her death had caused such a commotion. But Jesus remained calm and, in a way, he took charge. He said, ‘she’s not dead.’ Well, she was. Nobody was listening to that one. But he emptied the house. His quiet authority got everybody to move outside, surprised, still in deep grief, but doing what he said.
So, just the family and a couple of his followers went into the room where her body was lying. ‘Talitha cum.’ It couldn’t be happening, but it was. It was as though she had just been sleeping. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and got off the bed. It was a miracle – what a miracle. ‘Give her something to eat – o, and don’t tell everyone!’ That was difficult – because the only thing I wanted to do was just that: to tell everyone.