My healing has been a miracle. It has been a slow, prolonged miracle, but a miracle none the less. On Sunday at the evening service I stood before the (Okay very small) congregation and told them, in the context of Penny's sermon on healing, my testimony.
I did not go into any details, I simply told about the deep, dark hole in which I had been living for such a long time and told them about how Penny, instead of trying to drag me out of the hole or chuck prayers down into it as others had tried to do, actually clambered in there with me and brought God with her. I told about how we had journeyed together hand in hand through the rocky places and through the muddy places and how she was there alongside me, getting covered in mud right there with me.
I tried to get across that the miracle of God's healing does happen, but it may not always happen just exactly how we expect it to. God heals each person in the right way for the individual.
It was a miracle. My mind would never have coped with an instant healing- an instant yanking out of the pit- I am too analytical for that and it would have been too far from the way I generally work. He knew that. He healed me in the way that was just right for me.