It was old beyond human life measure, but kept to a rather settled good repair. The courtyard contained the remains of the hopes and dreams that built her.

Inside she was busy and bright, with a chapel of no small fame. Spontaneous healings told of by the brother sitting under discarded crutches displayed on the wall.

The hole in the floor, spoke the story, contained dirt used to wipe slates clean. No matter how much was taken away, the hole level always remained the same.

I stuck my cross down in the powdery dirt, always needing a healing or two, and proudly wore that miracle dust until it migrated to somewhere new.

So if you seek healing of body or soul, or your burden is to much to bear, get yourself out to the Chimayo Chapel.

I Believe the "True Healing Power" really is there!