The Healer

     The bare terrazzo floor was cold beneath my feet. I sat back in a chair I can't picture now, and put my right foot into the plastic pan on the floor. Mama opened a box of Epsom Salts and poured in a generous dose. She went to the kitchen and brought back a pan of water, hot off the stove and poured it over  the salts and my swollen, purple foot. It scalded me, and I jerked my foot out of the water. "It's too hot!" Tears ran down my cheeks, and Mama gently placed my foot back into the water.

     "You have to leave it there as long as possible," she said with sympathy and a voice full of tears lodged in the throat instead of flowing.

     Mama kept me home from school that day and poured water and salts over my foot for hours. I didn't hear her prayers, but they filled the room and penetrated the ugly red stripes running up my leg and the puss filled blisters on my heel and they transformed my poisoned foot into an eight year old foot again, just like God intended. It wasn't until years later that I realized how serious my infection was.

     Mama isn't materially present any more, but the spirit of love and healing she gave to me that day and countless days after never cease, and neither did Mama. Love is eternal.

     

If you abide in my, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.

John 15:7
Peace. Love, Linda