One Sunday the priest at church asked our congregation whether they had experienced God’s presence in their lives in the past week. One after the other, different members, young and old, got up and told the others, some with voices choked with emotion, how miracles had taken place through prayer. I watched as there were tears in the eyes of the listeners and looks of pure amazement as they heard about a God who answered their call for help.

Then I watched as children of different age groups came up and spoke about miracles, they had experienced. But there was one difference, here there were no tears, there were no expressions of surprise as had been seen on the faces of the grown ups; the children spoke as if it was the most natural thing in the world for God to work miracles in their lives!

Miracles were part of an everyday happening for them and I remembered a story: Little Tess took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter.  “And what do you want?” the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. “Well, I want to talk to you about my brother,” Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. “He’s really, really sick…and I want to buy a miracle.”

“I beg your pardon?” said the pharmacist.

“He has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?”

“We don’t sell miracles here, little girl. I’m sorry but I can’t help you,” the pharmacist said, softening a little.

“Listen, I have the money to pay for it. Just tell me how much it costs.”

The pharmacist’s brother who was standing nearby, was a well-dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, “What kind of a miracle does your brother need?”

“I don’t know,” Tess replied with her eyes welling up. “I just know he’s really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation. But my Daddy can’t pay for it, so I want to use my money.”

How much do you have?” asked the man from Chicago.

“One dollar and eleven cents,” Tess answered barely audibly. “And it’s all the money I have.”

“Well, what a coincidence,” smiled the man. “A dollar and eleven cents—-the exact price of a miracle for little brothers.” He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said “Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let’s see if I have the miracle you need.”

That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed without charge and it wasn’t long until the boy was home again and doing well. One day Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led to this event. “That surgery,” her Mom whispered, “was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?” Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost….one dollar and eleven cents…!

I don’t know how much you’ve got dear reader, but if it’s just a few rupees and the faith of a child, then there’s somebody up there who’s got a miracle waiting for you..!

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