She was sicker than she could remember.
An opportunity had come to her door
That fit her like an old pair of jeans but
A throat aflame and a head that thrummed
Would prevent her from accepting an offer
To mentor others in art-making.
The medicine woman's daughter called and
Listened to her wretched complaints: fever, chills,
Congestion, and aches in places never imagined. . .
"Come to my house and I will make you a soup."
The request was more of a command and less of an invitation. . .
She summoned all her strength, left her warm bed, and made the journey
To the woman's home, though sicker than she could ever remember.
She was led down a long, dark hallway and
Seated at a wooden table with a single spoon.
The tiny sunlit kitchen was warm and uncluttered.
A huge bowl, filled to the rim, with a thick bubbling broth, and
Steamy aroma of tubers and woven spices was placed before her.
Sip-by-sip, radiant heat spread to the edges of her body.
Soupy warmth nourished her mind and weakened spirit.
Soft conversation filled the room.
There was a sense of tranquility and contentment.
The potion released its most powerful magic.
At the last sip of soup, there was no sign of fever or aches. . .
"What's in it? You could sell this miracle soup to the world!" she proclaimed!
It has my roots, rutabagas, vegetables -- it has no meat.
When you told me you were ill, I went to the store.
I carefully selected my tubers and prayed.
I asked each of the vegetables to assist you.
I enlisted all of them to help me in your healing.
The two women spoke of planting a garden together.
They would lick each seed before planting it.
The seed would know them and their request.
There would be prayer - prayers that it would grow into a
Healthy plant to nourish them and go to those very
Places that needed healing - it would know those places!
This extraordinary story of the healing soup turned out to be a gift.
We would also go to the market and hand-pick the richest, most
Colorful varieties of indigenous roots and tubers and
Prepare them with love and prayer because
A chronically ill friend had spoken of giving up --
He was tired of the endless struggle with illness.
An important part of the healing medicine is the sacrifice. . .
To carry out an important task - the friend would be required to
Travel a great distance to our door for a single meal.
All vegetables would be summoned to nourish, protect, and heal;
The ritual soup would be served and the story retold.
Yet, no one predicted others at the table would receive a healing too.