Expect a Miracle
The sharp voice of the cashier slashed through my Sunday meanderings as I weaved through a cluttered discount store, looking for paper plates. I stopped and glanced toward the checkout. I wasn’t the only one. Other customers were gawking too. It must’ve been just after church; the store was packed.
Behind the counter stood a middle-aged woman, scowling at a man fumbling with the card reader. He looked sheepish, trying to swipe his card the right way. The customers behind him were already digging through their wallets and purses, getting ready. No one wanted to be next in line for her frustration.
As I headed toward the back of the store, her sharp tone echoed again. I winced.
Should I just leave? I can get paper plates anywhere. She sounds really upset.
I found the plates, braced myself, and shuffled toward the counter. There were two people ahead of me. Following their lead, I opened my wallet. That’s when I saw it. A business card-sized note, leftover from a resilience group I’d facilitated. In bold letters, it read: Expect a Miracle. I had forgotten it was even there.
When it was my turn, the clerk looked up and glared. I smiled. We didn’t speak.
I handed her the card.
She looked at it. Then she looked at me. Her expression didn’t soften. Not yet. I thought, This is it. She’s going to let me have it.
But then her lips quivered. A tear rolled down her cheek.
She was crying.
She spoke, softly this time. “My grandson is coming to visit today. He’s only in town for one day. I was supposed to be with him, but my relief called off. I can’t leave until someone else gets here.”
I nodded. We stood there in that fragile moment together. I paid for my purchase, and walked toward the door. Just before I left, I glanced back.
She was smiling.
A miracle had happened, right there at the checkout counter.
About the Author
Rod Price has spent his career in human services, supporting mental health and addiction recovery, and teaching courses on human behavior. A lifelong seeker of meaning through music, reflection, and quiet insight, he created Quiet Frontier as a space for thoughtful conversation in a noisy world.