I am an ordinary man, nameless to the world, but with a small story that begs to be told. My life took an unexpected turn over two years ago when we received the most difficult news a family can face: my daughter was ill. But amid darkness, I found a light that never went out: my faith in God and His healing power.

When the diagnosis fell upon us like a heavy cloak, I felt overwhelmed by helplessness. How could I protect my little one from something I couldn't even fully comprehend? But in my desperation, I found solace in an ancient story, a story of a woman who, like my daughter, was afflicted by an illness that seemed insurmountable.

The woman in question was the hemorrhaging woman, an anonymous figure whose faith led her to touch the cloak of Jesus in search of healing; and against all odds, she was healed. This story resonated deep within me, like an echo of hope in a world full of uncertainty. If an anonymous woman could find healing through her faith, why couldn't my daughter experience a similar miracle?

During the pandemic, I discovered Magdala through its virtual Eucharistic celebrations, talks, and pilgrimages. I remember vividly when Father Juan, in one of his many videos, taught us and explained the painting of the Encounter Chapel, located in Duc in Altum, and how it depicted the moment when the hemorrhaging woman touched the cloak of Jesus. It struck me so deeply at the time that, after my daughter's diagnosis, I searched for an image of it online and made a cheap printout that I kept with me at home.

From that day on, every morning I stood before a mirror fogged with faith. With a cheap printout of the hemorrhaging woman in my hand, I closed my eyes and prayed fervently, imploring God for a miracle for my beloved daughter. And then, I headed to the driver's seat of my car, ready to face the day stretched out before me like a blank sheet full of possibilities.

I quit my job, a decision that many might consider reckless, but to me, it was the only option. Working as an Uber driver not only provided the necessary means to support my family but also gave me the flexibility to accompany my daughter to the hospital every day. Each trip became a pilgrimage of hope, a constant reminder that we were not alone in this battle.

And though the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, my faith never wavered. Every time I saw my daughter struggle with pain, every time I heard her whispers of fatigue in the stillness of the night, I renewed my commitment to believe in a God who is all-powerful. I knew that, like the hemorrhaging woman, my daughter would find healing in the healing touch of His cloak.

A few days ago, by the workings of God, I met someone who works for Magdala, and we had a good life chat. A really good one! I immediately saw the hand of God; I told him about my daughter and showed him a photo of my printout of the painting. After dropping him off at his destination, he asked me for my details and those of my daughter as he would request prayers for her from Magdala. You can imagine my daughter's excitement when she saw her name in the Mass intentions!

A few days later, we received a package in the mail, direct from Israel. From Magdala, they had sent us a canvas with the painting of the Encounter. I knew it was the hand of God working in our lives, beginning to fulfill the promise of restoration He had made on the pages of my heart.

Today, I look at my daughter with awe and gratitude. I know that my family's story – still ongoing – will be a living testimony of faith, and as I continue to drive through the streets of life, I know I will never be alone. As a family, we have decided to hang the canvas of the hemorrhaging woman at the entrance of our house, as a tangible reminder that even the greatest miracles can begin with a simple act of faith.

Though I still await that great miracle today, I am also willing to accept God's will for my family. Out of respect for my daughter and her situation, I prefer to maintain anonymity, just as the Gospel maintains that of the hemorrhaging woman; I prefer our story to be that of "the family of unwavering faith."

I sincerely hope that my testimony serves as hope to anyone from the Magdala Family going through something similar. United in prayer and hand in hand with Jesus.

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