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Grant came back into the room with the calendar in hand, and we
counted up the weeks until Easter... nine, ten, eleven... There it was - the day was
Friday, so it was eleven weeks to Good Friday. It was at this juncture that I admitted to
my latest 'revelation'. I think God said, "Ten weeks and ten days."
Strange - what would that make it? Easter Monday! Well, well, well. From
that moment on I had a settled feeling of certainty that God really had spoken again, and
that a day had been set in heaven for my healing.
I was
happy with this. What was another few months, when I had been sick for years?
He also helped me see that I didn't need to keep trying so hard to get well, but that is
part of another story, and I don't want to get side-tracked here, so forget I said
that!
We
finished praying and I went to my room for an afternoon sleep. Later that day, while I was
minding my own business, the words came into my mind with that now familiar clarity, 'ten
years and ten days'. What!? What could that mean? What happened ten
years ago? It didn't enter my mind to think ten years ahead, as with the ten weeks;
intuitively I knew that God wanted me to think back ten years, so I dutifully put on my
thinking cap, and all I came up with was that my youngest child had been conceived at
Easter, nine years ago. Ten years would take me into a hazy area where nothing stood
out as significant... until I remembered something quite amazing that happened at that
time.
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