In this Sunday’s Gospel, we meet a father desperately trying to save his dying daughter. His name is Jairus, a leader of the synagogue, a respected man in his community. He falls at Jesus’ feet and begs him to come to his home. His only daughter is twelve years old.

But on the way, Jesus encounters another woman whose story is very different.

For twelve years, she has suffered from bleeding. The same twelve years that brought Jairus’s family the joy of watching their daughter grow have brought this woman years of illness, pain, and disappointment. While one family counted birthdays, she counted years of suffering.

And notice another difference.

Jairus has a name, a position, and a voice. He comes to plead for his daughter. But the woman remains unnamed. Nobody comes to Jesus on her behalf. We do not know whether she has family or friends to support her. In the Gospel, there is no one speaking for her.

She does not even ask Jesus for help. She simply approaches from behind and touches his garment.

But Jesus notices her. Although he is on his way to save a dying child, he stops. He makes time for her, listens to her story, and calls her “Daughter.”

What a beautiful word! Jairus has a daughter for whom he is willing to do anything. And this woman, for whom nobody has pleaded, hears Jesus himself call her daughter.

Jesus then continues to Jairus’s home and restores his daughter to life. Neither daughter is forgotten. Neither is less precious to him.

There are times when we, too, feel alone and powerless. Our struggles may go unnoticed, our prayers seem unanswered, and we may even wonder whether God has more important people and greater problems to attend to.

But this Gospel reminds us that God’s love does not work that way. His attention is not limited, nor does his compassion depend on our importance in the eyes of the world.

Even when nobody else notices our suffering, Christ sees us. Even when we cannot find the words to pray, we can still reach toward him.

And just as he called that lonely woman “Daughter,” he reminds each of us that we are never strangers to him. We belong to him, and we are never forgotten.