Tess was a precocious
eight year old when she
heard her Mom and Dad
talking about her little
brother, Andrew. All she
knew was that he was
very sick and they were
completely out of
money. They were
moving to an apartment
complex next month
because Daddy didn’t
have the money for the doctor bills and our house.
Only a very costly surgery could save him now and it
was looking like there was no-one to loan them the
money. She heard Daddy say to her tearful Mother with
whispered desperation, “Only a miracle can save him
now.”
Tess went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar
from its hiding place in the closet. She poured all the
change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three
times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No
chance here for mistakes. Carefully placing the coins
back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out
the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall’s
Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the
door. She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give
her some attention but he was too busy at this moment.
Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing.
She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound
she could muster. No good.
Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on
the glass counter. That did it!
“And what do you want?” the pharmacist asked in an
annoyed tone of voice. “I’m talking to my brother from
Chicago whom I haven’t seen in ages,” he said without
waiting for a reply to his question.
“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.
“His name is Andrew and 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. If it isn’t enough,
I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs.”
The pharmacist’s brother was a well dressed man. He
stooped down and asked the little girl, “What kind of a
miracle does you 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, but I can get
some more if I need to.
“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 kind of miracle you
need.”
That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a
surgeon, specialising in neuro-surgery. The operation
was completed without charge and it wasn’t long until
Andrew was home again and doing well. Mom and Dad
were happily talking about the chain of events that had
led them to this place.
“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 … plus the faith of a
little child.
