A story...part one

A story crept into my mind and I am trying to let it out bit by bit:

 I collapsed from pure exhaustion and the kind of weary that can only come from a hard-fought battle. It is not just one isolated fight that has worn me out. It is an ongoing battle and my adversary knows just how to wear me out. I have found the threshold of a place of refuge and I can only collapse here and wait to be found. I must have brushed against the door and made some scratching noise because I hear her - the woman inside - coming to the door. The beautiful woman who opens the door is not shocked to see me lying on the  threshold. She looks out over my body into the distance to assess whether I made it there on my own or if I had been deposited there by another. Seeing no one and no tracks, she leans down and brushes my hair from my face and checks my breathing. It is shallow, ragged, and labored but present. She bends down to lift me off of the threshold and whispers to me. She calls my name and reminds me that I am safe now.

She carries me into her home easily as if the years have not ever diminished her strength and agility. She slides a pillow under my head and stretches my body out on a beautiful Persian rug. I know that I am covered in dirt from battle and I try to protest for fear of getting dirt on her precious rug. She shushes me and I stop protesting because I know that it is useless. She cares for me in ways that I am not able to care for myself. She knows who I am and she knows what I need. She places her hand on my forehead to assess for a fever and finds my skin warm and moist as if a fever has in fact begun to race through my body. She is relieved that my body has made this valiant attempt to heal itself. She closes her eyes for a moment and I know that she is whispering a prayer for my healing. We have done this many times before. She smooths my hair again and smiles at me and although my eyes are closed, I can still feel the warmth from her smile.

She stands up and walks to the kitchen to turn on a pot of water. She has all of the secrets of the earth in that kitchen. There will be a tea that is bitter on the tongue but sweet on the stomach. That tea will be one of the keys to this healing ritual. She returns to me and begins to untie my boots and pull them off of my aching feet. Dirt, blood and debris are caked in the boots but she has no concern for the filth and clumps of earth that fall off as she tends to me. Healing trumps housekeeping in this moment. She pulls my thick hunter's socks down my calves and hesitates when she sees that my feet look gnarled when in fact, they are cramped from dehydration and the potassium depletion that is a result of the battle.  With warm hands, she lifts my left foot into her lap and begins to stretch my foot until the muscles give in to her touch. No longer twisted over onto each other in a death grip, the muscles relax into a position that looks like the Creator's intention. This is always the most painful part and if I had breath, I might scream as the pain sears through my body on the way back to normal. The muscles in my foot seem to remember what they are supposed to do and be and with only a few twinges of confusion that look like a return to the cramped position, my left foot resumes its natural state and now, she will do the same with my right foot. There is no magic to this. She merely restores my feet to their natural state. This is her gift. She restores broken parts of me to their natural state. She reminds me all of the time that there is no magic and no secret to what she does. She is a healer and with her touch, she restores things to a rightful place. Muscles remember to relax in her presence. Bones no longer ache with the burden of stiffness. Hearing becomes sharper because distractions are filtered out. The mind works with greater efficiency now that there is room for every thought and they do not take over the rest of the body. She restores balance and I do not have to do anything but be in her presence. Her healing gift lies in her ability to allow me to just be. My feet know this and are healed and grateful.