Jesus struggled, tasting the metallic bitters of rage along his teeth. After a moment, his gaze returned to the boy. And to the desperation on the mother’s face. Then, without further thought, he bent and lifted a palm full of dirt. He spat into the soil three times and blended the two ingredients until they formed a thick paste, having once seen Simon treat his own wound in this way.

Ruth stood nearby, marveling at his actions.

Jesus held the boy gently. Reaching up, he spread the cool paste inside his empty socket. “The clay will draw the infection,” he told the mother. “When the redness is gone, apply a coating of olive and sumac oils until the skin heals.”

The woman dropped her gaze to the ground. “But they say you can work miracles. Is it because I am not worthy that you do not restore his sight?”

Unable to believe her words, Jesus sat back on his heels. “Is that what you truly believe?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

The woman said nothing.

Jesus held still. Unsure what to say. He recognized that she, like him, had been raised according to the new ways—according to a belief that did not teach her to perceive her full beauty, nor honor her power. His mind drifted back. To how his father had ignored him. And intimidated his mother.

Did he not, at that time, believe as this woman before him?

But what could he say that would show her otherwise?

Before he had any intention of speaking, Jesus leaned in and whispered, “Sister, you have already had many miracles in your life. The first was your birth into this world. The second was the birth of your son. The third is that your son will keep his life. Can you not see that you have already been found worthy?”

Saying this, he fell silent, startled by his own words.

The woman’s face met his. She felt lifted by his clear gaze. And his conviction. She had never thought about her life as being filled with miracles. And in that moment, a great weight left her. “Yes, I can see that now,” she whispered. She took her son into her arms and held him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she repeated and smiled broadly into the day.

The young man’s wife, who had watched the interaction from the window of her house, said to her daughters, “In all my life, I have never seen that woman smile.” She shook her head in disbelief. Dropping her voice she said, “Truly, that man is an instrument of God.”

Shortly after the three departed from the village, Jesus found himself stewing over what had happened, and confronted Ruth.

“You knew as well as I that the old woman’s son injured the boy. And probably strikes his wife and daughters, too! Why did you stop me from challenging him?”