In that I mean, I can eat and not feel a lot of pain. (I feel some pain, but not much, and far less than the preceding days. Praise God.)
What I want to dig into is something I noticed within myself while I laid in bed and binged watched four seasons of “Justified.” Before this week, I didn’t often pray for healing. Perhaps that comes from built-in aversion to the Benny Hinn heresies we see so often, I don’t know, but there is absolutely no reason to not ask God for help.
Was it doubt that God could do it? Nah. I’ve never struggled with that. He’s the Creator God.
Or, was it doubt that God would do it? Did I, in my past, avoid asking God to heal me from pain (physical, emotional or spiritual) because I didn’t think He would, therefore avoiding disappointment? I cannot say, but there’s probably something to that. I have rarely been good at processing disappointment, but thankfully that has improved some too.
But this week, I did. Whether God directly intervened or time simply made things better, all credit goes to the Lord. (After all, who else would be responsible for time and its passage?)