Miracles

Melanie guides the grocery cart through the produce section. Jake, her chunky twenty-month-old, points at the watermelons. “Wah-men.”

He smiles in a strained manner and kicks his feet. Another speck of white is peeking through his swollen gums. Seedless watermelon had been her go-to for his previous tooth. However, the subsequent diarrhea was an unwanted side effect. Melanie tries to pass the melons as quickly as possible, distracting the baby by pointing out the mound of apples on the other side.

“Look, Jaky, red,” she says.

Melanie looks up in time to see the aisle blocked by a pair of elderly women thumping cantaloupes and discussing the price of blueberries. She waits patiently for them to notice her, hoping they will move over enough for her to squeeze by, but they continue in their own little world.

Before turning back to find another way around, she notices a teething ring hanging on a long plastic strip. It can be chilled in the refrigerator. That would be the perfect solution for her child’s sore gums. It hangs close to the two women, now sniffing the cantaloupes. Although she can’t get through the path with her shopping cart, she knows her long arms will come in handy, allowing her to reach the ring.

“Excuse me.” She tries again with no response. Stepping away from the cart, she reaches out for the ring. She hears a thump on the tiled floor. Guess she’d be buying watermelon after all.

Melanie turns to look at Jaky with his big “I’m sorry” eyes, but when she looks to where he should be sitting, he isn’t there. She scans the aisle for the person who must have taken him from his seat, but only the two elderly women share the aisle. As she steps around the cart, all the blood in Melanie’s body plummets to her feet. Jake is lying on the floor; his head is turned in an unnatural position. A small trickle of blood seeps from his ear. His eyes are slightly open but there is no life in them.

Someone screams with such a sharp volume it hurt her ears. She stands there looking at her little boy, waiting for him to cry, to run to her for comfort. Suddenly, a man in a clean white button-up shirt with a yellow tie grabs her by her shoulders. He is saying something to her, but the loud wailing is drowning out all other sounds. She desperately wants the noise to stop; it’s keeping her from thinking clearly.

A crowd starts to form. Thankfully the loud screaming stops as Melanie realizes she is out of air. Drawing in a deep breath, she sinks to her knees at her child’s lifeless body. As soon as her lungs are sufficiently filled again she realizes the sound was coming from her. The screaming turns to heart gutting moans.

Jake must have stretched out to take a watermelon. She hadn’t fastened the safety belt because one of the ends was broken. Why hadn’t she chosen a different cart? Why didn’t she just get him the stupid watermelon? Why had she walked away, leaving him unprotected? As quickly as the grief sets in, the guilt and shame flood her heart with stabbing regret.

Melanie puts her fingers under Jake’s body.

“Ma’am, don’t move him! We have called an ambulance and they are on their way!” someone, probably the well-dressed man, says.

Ignoring him, she picks up her baby anyway. There’s nothing they will be able to do. In her heart, she knows that.

Melanie brings his small body close to her chest.

“Give him to me.”

Melanie looks up through her tears at the teenage girl kneeling next to her.

“Please.” the girl says.

The compassion in her eyes compels Melanie to yield.

As soon as he leaves her arms, a fierce ringing bellows in Melanie’s ears. She feels as though her lungs are shutting down. She strains to draw air into them and pulls it in too fast, causing her trembling lips to vibrate against her teeth.

The ringing is soon replaced with the low hum of the teen speaking a language unknown to Melanie. Although she isn’t fluent in any language besides English, she can usually detect the familiar syllables of French, Spanish, and Chinese. But this is unlike anything she’s ever heard. It is rhythmic with repeating phrases.

The girl investigates the boy’s face then lifts her voice. “I command this child’s body to be healed and his spirit to return in the name of Jesus!”

Against all rational thinking, Melanie’s hope begins to rise. Please, God, save my baby. An unimaginable future plays out in her mind of what life would be like without her child. How would Rodney take this? Would this be the final push towards divorce their struggling relationship would suffer?

“Little boy, I said live! In the name of Jesus Christ. Be made whole and live!” The teen touches Jake’s forehead with one hand as she cradles him with the other.

Suddenly, Jake takes a sharp, deep breath. Melanie holds hers.

He gazes at the woman holding him, trying to figure out who she is.

Melanie’s eyes grow wide and her back straightens. The crowded gazers collectively take a step back and hushed awe comes over them. The atmosphere changes. There is a thick presence amid them all, dense yet, unseen with the naked eye.

Jake takes in another breath and starts to cry. He raises his head searching for his mother. When he sees her, he reaches out and clutches at her with his tiny fist.

Moving with the toddler’s momentum, the young lady hands him across to his mother. Melanie buries her face into Jake’s neck and starts sobbing again. This time in relief and gratitude to God. Yes, to God…. and the mysterious young girl.