I work with sharp things every day. Needles, pins, and scissors are the tools of my trade and while I aim them at fabric sometimes my skin gets in the way.
The other day I sliced the underside of my finger. It was not deep enough to bleed much and I ignored it. But the next morning it was fiery red, and clearly needed attention. A drop of Neosporin strategically placed beneath a band aid was an easy remedy. Then the real magic could begin. I find it marvelous that God brings healing with such sparse effort from me.
Two days later I decided to peek, and pulled off the bandage. The skin was intact. Astonishing. How does it even happen? Is it a battle by microscopic warriors on my behalf?
I have a relationship that was inflamed. I secretly welcomed reasons to complain to myself or others. I noticed a decision by someone else that did not annoy me at all, whereas it irked me in the person I had chosen to be critical of.
Our prayer group met and I admitted the turmoil. Using vague language I asked for support in healing the breach. I was weary of fiery feelings, and pictured a calmer friendship. I prayed for the person. The group prayed for me. One woman used the word transformation. A strong sentiment, but it seemed spot on.
Two days later calm showed up. Grousing about the person held no appeal. I suppose if they challenge me by, I don't know, being obnoxious I might buckle. But probably not.
I did almost nothing. In the time that it took to squeeze a dollop of antibiotic on my finger, invisible angels have labored for my benefit.
Perhaps they were waiting for me to ask.
