This is a story about a soup that multiplied! I was 15 at the time and we were living in Tarma, Peru. As I probably have mentioned, I grew up in Chile and Peru where my parents were missionaries.
As I start writing I realize I probably have written about this miracle before, and I search my files but can’t find the subject. So, forgive me if I repeat myself. My son-in-law would say that he already read the book! But there might be someone who hasn’t heard the story.
My parents arrived in Tarma in the fall of 1958. They moved from Arequipa, where I stayed on to finish my school year. It must have been so much safer back then. I don’t think they worried too much. Some Assemblies of God missionaries, the Mocks if I remember correctly, opened their home for me.
In Tarma Dad planted a church (I will have to write about that in another blog), but since his goal was to visit villages in the mountains as a Bible teacher he needed someone to pastor the church. Julio Martinez was appointed. This story is about Julio’s family and my miracle soup.
Mom’s mother, my grandmother Signe Holmgren, was very sick. It was hard for my mother to be so far away from her. The distance between Peru and Sweden is quite considerable. How my parents managed to handle a trip for her to visit her mother, probably merits a spot under the category of miracles. They had a very tight financial budget!
So that us kids could study at an American school for missionary children in the jungle Mom worked there as a housemother and also in charge of the kitchen. During summer vacation she made the trip to Sweden. She left me in charge of the kitchen. I loved it! I guess I felt proud to be a housekeeper.
One day I cooked a beef soup. That’s when the miracle happened! I served Dad and my two sisters and two brothers. We all ate and the pot was still full! That’s when God spoke to my heart to take the soup to our pastor’s family—to Julio Martinez.
Here is a picture I have from that time. They were very young; his wife was only 13 when they married. I remember how that impressed me. I wanted to get married and have a family and I kind of envied her that she got to do it at such a young age. On the picture she is around the age I was when I married, and here she is surrounded with kids.
That particular day, when God multiplied my pot of soup, they had no food on the table and had been praying to God for something to eat. How wonderful that I as a teenager was chosen to be the answer to their prayers! I felt foolish to walk over to their place with a pot of soup, but I did want to obey the prompting of the Lord. Apart from the soup I filled a basket with groceries and my siblings and I went to visit.
Dad has testimonies about receiving food when we as a young missionary family had an empty pantry. But here was I, on the giving end! What a privilege!
I have another very interesting miracle from that time. I will leave it for another blog. It was such a privilege to grow up in an environment of faith. My Dad is my faith hero. He has believed God for so many miracles and God has done them abundantly in his life.
I’m starting a special blog in Swedish to put some of his stories from his missionary life. I’m sure that with time we will translate those stories to English and Spanish. When I have it running I will put a link here.
May God use us all to bless others, even with such a simple thing as a pot of soup!
Print the story about the soup: 19 Margaret and the MIracle Soup