After nearly two hours of shopping frantically for a cocktail dress that I was told I needed to get for our upcoming trip to Vermont this Thursday, I found just what I was looking for. I placed my chosen outfit carefully on the sales counter. The clerk, a young woman with cornrows darting left and right on her head collected at the nape of her neck with a big yellow band, was wearing the most beautiful white smile I had seen in a long time. I was struck by her presence. She cheerfully said, "Is this all?"
No, I decided, it wasn't all. She was wearing her name badge - a white rectangular plate with the red letters M-I-R-A-C-L-E written on it. I had to know.
"Your name is beautiful," I said. "I bet there's a great story behind it."
"Yes," she said, as she looked down so as to divert my attention to other things. I was not willing to let this one go, so I asked, "Would you care to share your story with me?"
There was the bright smile. "Okay", she said as she worked on our transaction. She began to tell me that when she was in her mother's womb the umbilical cord was wrapped tightly around her neck (the doctors were unaware of this at the time). The cord was so restrictive that she stopped breathing. The disheartened medical team could not get her out of the womb and could not hear her heartbeat. She was pronounced dead. For five minutes they consoled the mother who would not have this beautiful girl child. For five minutes little Miracle lay inside, not being able to breathe. Quiet. Still.
"For some reason," she said very quietly now as she continued her story, "one of the nurses checked my mother's belly one more time with her stethoscope and heard my heart beating, faintly." Her mother was rushed into the operating room and a C-section was performed. Little Miracle was lifted out of the womb, the cord unwound and everyone waited for the blue baby to scream as she was welcomed into the world.
Miracle screamed. And today, twenty years later, little Miracle was smiling, brightly. I thanked her for her story and extended my hand saying, "It was very nice to meet you, Miracle."
Miracle was taken aback. "My, you are making me feel so special," she said as I walked away with my cocktail dress in hand. Her comment made me turn around and I said, "Well, you are special."
I walked out of the door of the store that night, passing many people. Nameless people. But knowing one thing: whatever we are called, wherever we came from, we are all special in our own, unique way. And our story will mean something to someone.
Have you shared your story yet?
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