But Jesus touched them

Matthew 17:6-7 [At the Transfiguration] The disciples were terrified and fell face down on the ground. Then Jesus came over and touched them. “Get up,” he said. “Don’t be afraid.”

Last night I finished the rough draft of my first novel, Horse Thief 1898. Then I tried to sleep, but my novel-world was still too much with me. After trying to “turn over and go to sleep,” as my dad used to instruct us, I gave up and returned to my laptop and read back over the last few chapters, tweaking here, adding there, rearranging the order of events in a couple of places.

Finally, glancing at the clock, I realized I needed sleep. I decided to read a chapter of someone else’s novel, in that moment less compelling to me than my own, to get me out of the Horse Thief world. It worked well enough to get me back to bed. But then, as I tried not to touch my husband (he’s a light sleeper), touch is what I kept thinking about. How important touch is to Cally. How it hurts her to go long periods without a friendly embrace. And then—how devastating the abusive touch that upends her world. And how much, after that, she desperately needed safe touch in order to begin to heal.

Image From Shutterstock by Puppy 4

I thought too about a part of Karis, All I See Is Grace, near the end of the book. I’ve just read through the entire manuscript in Portuguese, as I prepare to submit it to a Brazilian publisher by the end of this week. Writing about the day before Karis died, I noted, After our family time with Karis, I moved her leg to make it more comfortable, and her skin split. Even the gentlest touch caused immediate bruising. I had cared intimately for this body for more than thirty years, and now my touch was no longer a blessing; it only did her harm. I could do no more for my precious girl. Father, take her home.

As I turned over (again) and tried to sleep, I breathed, Thank you, Lord, for taking her home. Jesus’ touch never causes harm. It only brings healing.

Horse Thief 1898 ends with touch. It is both the culmination of a long separation and a promise of more to come. As I tried to sleep, I found myself writing in my head the beginning of the next book in the series, which will be Cally’s healing journey. But no. I’ve promised myself I’ll catch up on other parts of my life before plunging into book 2. There are others who need Jesus’ touch, even that mediated by the imperfection of my hands.

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