The Man steps forward, parting the crowd as He approaches the mourning procession.

His presence, as I already said, is commanding yet gentle. His gaze never wavers, and as He comes nearer, I feel something strange… something I cannot name. it’s similar to…

A warmth, a stirring deep within me. And for the briefest moment, it is as though the weight of my grief has lessened considerably.

He stops before me, and His eyes are full of a compassion so piercing, it’s as if He can see into the very depths of my soul. For a moment, all the sounds around us—the shuffling feet of the pallbearers, the whispers of the mourners—they all seem to fade away.

Then He opens His mouth.

“Do not weep,” He says softly, His voice steady and calm, carrying a weight of authority that can still even my sobs.

I stare at Him, bewildered, my tears momentarily forgotten. How in the world can He say such a thing? Does He not see the bier behind me? Does He know that my son, my only son, lies lifeless upon it? Does He know that this loss has ended me? Does He know that this is the second time I’m suffering a loss this soul-crushing?

There is no way I can refrain from weeping! My entire world has come to an end!

But before I can form a single word of rebuke, He turns away and walks toward the bier. The pallbearers freeze as He approaches, their movements openly hesitant and unsure.

Without hesitation, the man reached out and placed His hand on the bier. “Stop,” He says with an almost otherworldly gentleness.

The procession immediately halts.

I turned to watch, my heart pounding in my chest. Now the questions in my mind have switched.

Who is this man? Why is He doing this? Does He want to disrupt my son’s burial? Is He some troublemaker? What is He doing? What does He think He’s doing?

As the bier is placed down, He looks down at my son’s still and lifeless form, then speaks again, His voice ringing out clear and firm.

“Young man, I say to you, rise!”

The words hang in the air, heavy with something I simply can’t explain. My breath is caught in my throat, and the world seems to go totally still as every eye is fixed on the bier.

For a moment, nothing happens.

I’m about to comment…

Then, Eliab stirs!

What??!!

His chest begins to rise with a deep, sudden breath, and his eyes flutter open in confusion. He sits up slowly, his hands gripping the edges of the bier as though he’s testing the strength of his own body to see if it’s good enough.

“Mama?” he calls out, his face full of life as he looks up to the Man.

The shock is overwhelming! Oh my goodness!

A loud gasp escapes my lips, and my knees give way beneath me. Mara and the other women faithfully catch me once more, even while their own cries of shock echo in my ears.

My son… my Eliab… my darling boy… he’s alive.

Tears begin streaming down my face, this time not of sorrow, but of uncontainable joy. I scramble to my feet, prying myself out of the grip of my friends and moving towards the miraculous scene. My hands are trembling as I observe him.

The Man turns to me, His gentle eyes meeting mine again as He helps Eliab climb out of the bier. With a smile, He gently places my son’s hand in mine.

“Your son,” He says simply, His voice full of warmth.

I pull Eliab into my arms, holding him so tightly I might hurt him. He wraps his arms around me, sobbing as he holds on for dear life.

This is not a joke. This is not a ghost in my arms. I feel his heart beating against mine. He is breathing in and out normally.

He is real: solid, warm, alive.

My son is alive!

“Eliab,” I sob into his hair, my voice choked with emotion. “Oh, my son, my son!”

“Mama! Mama!” he responds, his voice equally breaking. “I’m here! I’m here!”

Around us, the crowd erupts in amazement, their voices rising in praise and wonder.

“God has visited His people!” someone cries.

“A prophet has arisen among us!” another shouts.

“This is a miracle!”

I’m barely paying them attention. All I do is cling tightly to my son, my heart overflowing with joy and disbelief.

The Man stands quietly amidst the commotion, His face calm and almost serene. I turn to Him, my lips trembling as I try to find the words to speak to Him.

“T-T-Thank You,” I manage, my voice breaking with tearful gratitude. “Oh, Adonai, thank You so much.”

I fall to my knees before the Man, my son next to me. “You… You truly are sent from God,” I declare, my voice trembling. “Thank You so much! Adonai has shown me favour—He has visited me in my sorrow and turned it into joy.”

The Man simply smiles, His gaze full of kindness. He taps me gently on the shoulder, and without another word, turns and begins to walk away, the crowd parting for Him again.

As the people around us continue to rejoice, former mourners and travellers alike, I hold Eliab close, my heart full of a joy I had never known.

When I woke up this morning, I was convinced beyond all doubt that God had chosen not to see or hear me. There was so much pain in my heart. So much grief weighing down my spirit. A deluge of questions in my soul, questioning what I did or didn’t do to have to lose my precious son.

And now, the grief, the pain, the questions… they have all been swept away in the face of this miracle.

God had seen me.

God had heard me.

And He has answered in a way I would never have imagined.

THE END

Yes! An encounter with Jesus turned her situation around. An absolutely satisfying ending, and a reminder that once He steps into your situation, dead things come to life.

Thank you for reading, and as always, continue to enjoy yourself around the State!