Jenny was a precocious eight-year-old when she heard her mum 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 a smaller flat next month because dad didn’t have the money for the doctor’s bills as well as their house. Only a very costly surgery could save Andrew and it was looking like there was no-one to loan them the money. She heard her dad say to her tearful Mother with whispered desperation, “Only a miracle can save him now.”

Jenny went to her bedroom and pulled out her piggy bank from its hiding place in the cupboard. She poured all the change out on the floor and counted it carefully, three times. The total had to be exactly perfect, no chance here for mistakes. Carefully placing the coins back in her bank and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way to the local pharmacy.

She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention but he was too busy. Jenny 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 coin 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,” Jenny answered back in the same annoyed tone. “He’s really, really sick… and I want to buy a miracle.” “What?” said the pharmacist. “His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside him and my dad 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 your brother need?” “I don’t know,” Jenny replied with her eyes welling up. “I just know he’s really sick and mum says he needs an operation. But my dad 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,” Jenny 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 a surgeon and he offered to complete the operation free of charge and it wasn’t long until Andrew was home again and doing well. Jenny’s mum and dad were happily talking about the chain of events. “That surgery,” her mum whispered “was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?”

Jenny smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost… one dollar and eleven cents …… plus the faith of a little child.

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