touched by the Spirit: the day a nepalese woman jumped in my arms.

Never before had I felt blisters on the soles of my feet. The heels? Sure. But not the arches.

The day prior we walked for eight hours. We set out mid-morning with packs on our backs, a team of 14 Racers, Pastor Bibbin, and our translator, Bitu. On a wide dusty road we set out. We climbed stone steps, wrapped around the bend of mountains, followed narrow trails, looked down at valleys, and from time to time, rested under big tree canopies.

A village awaited us. Only a very small percent of the country of Nepal is accessible by road. The only way to reach these people would be by foot. And so, we walked.

We made it to a local church after night fall, curled up in our sleeping bags and rested for the night. We awoke early the next morning, packed up, and set out again.

None of us knew what was ahead, but we knew we had further to go. Still, the village waited.

So we walked.

This time the journey was almost entirely uphill. We stopped to rest in a valley where the Lord led one of my teammates, right then and there, to be baptized in the river. It was a beautiful moment. We cried, and hugged, and celebrated her together. And in the very next moment, we tended to, cared for, and prayed over another teammate who walking out of the river, slipped on a rock and cut the back of her head open.

We were suddenly thrown into a tailspin. She had suffered a concussion and was disoriented. We were in the middle of nowhere, knowing we had another hour of walking ahead of us until we would even reach a road.

We’d seen no one on the trail all morning when out of nowhere a man came down the hill on the opposite side of the valley.

He was wearing white and carrying a huge stick over his shoulders, which he immediately put down to come over to us. Suddenly, the man began mixing something in his hands…crushing leaves….a green paste starting to form. He applied the herbal medicine to the back of her head, and we wrapped the wound. Surprisingly, the bleeding was under control. Peace returned. We took a deep breath.

The “angel medicine man,” as we called him, picked his stick up, and carried on. He went one direction, and on we continued in the other.

We had a village to get to.

Finally, we ascended the last hill and I realized we’d made it. We sat down in the tiny village square, surrounded by a few stone houses. Joyfully, we told the people about Jesus, sang together, and then said we’d love to pray with them.

An elderly woman suddenly captured my eye.

Her dark brown skin was wrinkled, she was wrapped in a beautiful sari and hunched over her cane. She asked us to pray. We quickly realized she was blind—her husband had abused her, she said, thrown rocks at her eyes.

My teammates and I laid our hands on her and began talking with Jesus. We asked God to touch the woman’s eyes. And beyond that, to tell her how much He loved her.

Tears began washing the woman’s eyes, spilling over silently at first and then rolling down her cheeks.

Suddenly, the woman looked up. Touching one of her eyes, she motioned that she could see out of it again!

Our hearts jumped. We kept praying.

I’ll never forget what happened next.

One of my teammates, Ben, touched the woman’s cheek; he told her God wanted her to know that He has never left her, He’s never forgotten her. The woman told the translator that while we were praying she started having flashbacks of being tortured as a little girl. Through her tears, Ben held her face in his hands and said these words: “We would have climbed that mountain 100 times over just to be here today to tell you God loves you.”

In the silence that followed, me and a few other ladies on my team stood with the woman, holding her hand and just being with her.

Suddenly, the woman began smiling, and grabbing our hands, pulling us somewhere like a little kid ready to play. We laughed, not knowing what was going on, and a little surprised by our friend’s sudden giddiness. She quickly led us to one of the small stores and bought us each a pack of cookies! She sat down on the curb and pulled us down next to her.

We’d sang a really upbeat worship song that morning—one that little kids like to dance to—and the woman suddenly started clapping her hands to the beat, asking us to sing-a-long. As the song built to the chorus, the woman jumped up to her feet—her face beaming. And right then and there she began to dance.

Let me be clear: this 80-something year old Nepalese village woman, who was but a few minutes ago weeping over memories of deep pain, and suffering the aftermath of physical abuse, put down her cane and started straight up getting down. She clapped her hands, she spun in circles, she jumped up and down as much as her knees would allow, and all with the sweetest, makes-you-giggle laugh coming out of her mouth.

And then—my favorite moment—without warning, she put her arms around me and Alexis’ neck using us like beam, she jumped, and she swung up into the air like a small child. It was all we could do to not crack up! We didn’t know what else to do, so naturally, we caught her in the air, put her down, and did it again!

Ready? 1…….2…….3! Weeeeeeeeee!

We must have repeated the human swing 20 times.

She’d jump. She’d swing. And every time she’d laugh like it was the first time.

Something happened to that woman that morning, and I believe it had to do with more than just regaining some of her vision. I believe it had to do with regaining some of her childhood, her joy, her innocence.

The Lord did more than heal an eye that morning: He healed a heart.

God wants to step into the middle of our pain. He wants us to know he doesn’t will suffering—His heart hurts when we hurt. I believe God reminded that woman of the torture she faced as a little girl so that he could speak through Ben in that moment: My daughter, I have never left you. I have not forgotten you. I was there with you. I am here with you now.

Yes, we would have climbed that mountain 100 times just to look that one woman in the eyes and tell her of God’s great love for her.

The most amazing thing to me is that we didn’t climb that mountain because we knew she was on the other side. We did nothing heroic. No, we were led blindly on every trek we went on, having no idea where we were going or what we would find when we got there. We just went. We just walked. We just followed.

But the Lord knew. All along, the Lord knew He was leading us to His special little girl on the top of that mountain.

I know Jesus would climb that mountain 100 times over for that woman. And more than that, He would leave Heaven and come to earth and voluntarily lay down his life for her.

Jesus did it just for her. He did it just for you.

Whatever mountain you’re standing on, know that God sees you. And He’ll do whatever it takes to get to the top, hold your face in His hands and whisper,

My child, I have never left you. I have not forgotten you. I was there with you. I am here with you now.

He’ll climb any mountain for you. 100 times over.