Sally was only eight years old when she heard Mommy
and Daddy talking about her little brother, Georgi.
He was very sick and they had done everything they
could afford to save his life. Only a very expensive
surgery could help him now . . . and that was out of
the financial question. She heard Daddy say it with
a whispered desperation, "Only a miracle can save
him now."
Sally went to her bedroom and pulled her piggybank
from its hiding place in the closet. She shook 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. Tying
the coins up in a cold weather kerchief, she slipped
out of the apartment and made her way to the corner
drug store.
She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her
attention . . . but he was too busy talking to
another man to be bothered by an eight-year-old.
Sally twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. She
cleared her throat. No good. Finally she took a
quarter from its hiding place 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." "Well, I want to talk to you about my
brother," Sally answered back in the same annoyed
tone. "He's sick ... and I want to buy a miracle."
"I beg your pardon," said the pharmacist. "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 can't help you."
"Listen, I have the money to pay for it. Just tell
me how much it costs."
The well-dressed man stooped down and asked, "What
kind of a miracle does you brother need?" "I don't
know," Sally answered. A tear started down her
cheek. "I just know he's really sick and Mommy says
he needs an operation. But my folks can't pay for it
. . . so I have my money. "How much do you have?"
asked the well-dressed man. "A dollar and eleven
cents," Sally answered proudly. "And it's all the
money I have in the world." "Well, what a
coincidence," smiled the well-dressed man. A dollar
and eleven cents . . . the exact price of a miracle
to save a little brother. 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."
That well-dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong,
renowned surgeon . . . specializing in solving
Georgi's malady. The operation was completed . . .
without charge and it wasn't long until Georgi was
home again and doing well. Mommy and Daddy were
happily talking about the chain of events that had
led them to this place.
"That surgery," Mommy whispered. "It's like a
miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?"
Sally smiled to herself. She knew exactly how much a
miracle cost... one dollar and eleven cents... plus
the faith of a little child.
~ Author Unknown ~