I once sat with my grandmother on the open buffalo plains. In the solitude she'd play her wooden flute, soft like spring rain.

We'd sit for hours in the sun letting it tan our face and backs. We'd watch the silver dime rise to the happy applause of a distant wolf pack.

Sometimes she'd tell me stories which I eagerly digested. Sometimes we'd sit in pure silence observing nature un arrested.

Grandmother always had her buckskin medicine bag at her side. Quite often I wondered of what it contained: furs, stones, herbs and all good things nature does provide?

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Grandmother said it contained the best medicine on earth. It contained power that spoke life and gave the dying rebirth.

It brought peace and healing like no other medicine. There's nothing in this world that can stand in comparison.

Beautifully beaded and carefully made, how many treasures did this small bag hold? Grandmother smiled and slowly removed a small Bible, its pages lined with gold.

"Listen closely. Listen well." She whispered as on my forehead she placed a kiss. "There is no greater medicine than that of this."