Creative Nonfiction: How much does a miracle cost/ Cuánto cuesta un milagro? (ENG/ ESP)
How much does a miracle cost
"Maíta, can we take one of the coins?" - We would ask when we saw the bowl full of money.
"No, ladies, that money belongs to the virgin. Respect,” my grandmother would repeat every time she saw us approaching the bowl like a cat approaches a mouse.
"When are we going to spend that money?" - we asked curiously, certain that our grandmother would eventually get tired of asking so many questions and would share out the virgin's booty.
"When the frogs grow hair and the one-armed man grows fingers,” she would say, making it clear that the money would never be spent.
On one occasion, on the advice of my older sister and because we were three figurines short to fill an album, I took a bill from the Virgin's bowl, but with such bad, or good luck, that my grandmother saw me and not only made me return the bill to the Virgin, but also forced me to ask her forgiveness and even pray to her for a week, accepting my guilt:
"The virgin is going to punish you if you take money that is not yours again" - and I would start praying, with my eyes closed and kneeling on my knees, promising the virgin that I would never touch that money and that the guilty one was my older sister for giving me bad advice, so if I had to punish someone, I had to punish her.
Even my dad, one afternoon, was scolded by my grandmother because he didn't have enough money to buy a car part:
"Maíta, could you lend me some money and I'll pay you back on the 30th?" - she asked casually.
"My son, I don't have any,” my grandmother confessed plaintively.
"What about the money in the glass bowl?" - Dad asked, pointing to the bowl on the table.
"Oh, I wish that money were mine, but it's not. That money belongs to the Virgin,” my grandmother confessed, looking at the image with incredible adoration.
"Maíta, please, I will give it back to you at the end of the month. Besides, at some point that money is going to be spent,” said dad, losing his patience.
"That money is sacred. Nobody is ever going to spend it,” he said in an authoritative manner, and although Dad did not agree, he knew he should not antagonize my grandmother, especially in front of us, because at that time we were little parrots who repeated or imitated everything.
One afternoon, an aunt, my grandmother's youngest daughter, came to my house crying because one of her children had fallen out of bed and from that fall, had had convulsions. Dad left with my aunt and the child to go to the hospital, but then returned alone in the night:
"They left him hospitalized because they have to do a lot of tests. Rafaela is very worried because the tests are very expensive,” said my dad to my grandmother's insistent questions.
According to my dad, the blow had been so strong that maybe it had affected his brain:
"The blow knocked him unconscious" - affirmed dad shaking his head negatively.
That week and the following ones was a coming and going to the hospital, morning and evening, and although we were not allowed to ask many questions, my grandmother would tell us:
"With the favor of God and the Virgin, he is going to get better". - My grandmother would say, looking straight at the Virgin as when a mother talks to another mother.
I never knew when they emptied the virgin's bowl, nor when they began to light candles to the little virgin of the Valley. I only saw my grandmother who kept praying, day and night, in front of the improvised altar. I would look at her and think, in my childish thoughts, that maybe my grandmother prayed so much because she had spent the money that was in the bowl and that she was probably afraid that the Virgin would punish her.
Only months later, when my cousin was out of danger and released, I asked my grandmother:
"Maíta, where is the money from the bowl?"
"It was spent,” said my grandmother without wanting to delve into the matter.
"And what did they buy?" - I asked curiously.
"A miracle. A miracle was bought,” answered my grandmother, and for a long time I believed that miracles could be bought and that they were very expensive.
All images are free of charge and the text is my own, translated in Deepl
Thank you for reading and commenting. Until a future reading, friends
![Click here to read in spanish]
Cuánto cuesta un milagro?
Al lado de la figura de cerámica de la Virgen del Valle, abuela tenía un recipiente de cristal donde había billetes y monedas que ella iba poniendo, diariamente, en forma de ofrenda para la virgen:
_Maíta, ¿podemos agarrar una de las monedas? - preguntábamos al ver el tazón repleto de dinero.
_No, señoritas, ese dinero es de la virgen. Respeten - repetía mi abuela cada vez que nos veía acercarnos al recipiente como un gato se acerca a un ratón.
_¿Cuándo vamos a gastar ese dinero? - preguntábamos curiosas, con la certeza de que nuestra abuela se cansaría en algún momento de tanta preguntadera y repartiría el botín de la virgen.
_Cuando las ranas echen pelo y el manco eche dedos - afirmaba y con eso dejaba claro que ese dinero no se gastaría jamás.
En una oportunidad, por consejos de mi hermana mayor y porque nos faltaban tres figuritas para llenar un álbum, tomé un billete del bol de la virgen, pero con tan mala, o buena suerte, que mi abuela me vio y no solo me hizo devolverle el billete a la virgen, también me obligó a pedirle perdón y hasta rezarle por una semana aceptando mi culpa:
_La virgen te va a castigar si vuelves a tomar un dinero que no es tuyo - y yo comenzaba a rezar, con los ojos cerrados e hincada de rodillas, prometiéndole a la virgen que jamás tocaría ese dinero y que la culpable era mi hermana mayor por darme malos consejos, por lo que si debía castigar a alguien, debía castigarla a ella.
Hasta mi papá, cierta tarde, recibió el regaño de la abuela porque no tenía dinero para comprar una pieza del carro:
_Maíta, ¿será que me prestas dinero y te lo pago el 30? - le preguntó de manera casual.
_Hijo mío, no tengo - confesó mi abuela de manera lastimera.
_¿Y el dinero que está en el cuenco de cristal? - preguntó papá señalando el recipiente encima de la mesa.
_Ay, quisiera yo que ese dinero fuera mío, pero no lo es. Ese dinero es de la virgen - confesó mi abuela mirando la imagen con una adoración increíble.
_Maíta, por favor, te lo voy a regresar a final de mes. Además, en algún momento ese dinero se va a gastar - dijo papá perdiendo la paciencia.
_Ese dinero es sagrado. Nunca nadie lo va a gastar - expresó de manera autoritaria y aunque papá no estaba de acuerdo, sabía que no debía contrariar a mi abuela, especialmente frente a nosotras, porque en esa época éramos unas loritas que repetíamos o imitábamos todo.
Una tarde, llegó a mi casa una tía, la hija menor de mi abuela, llorando porque uno de sus hijos se había caído de la cama y a partir de esa caída, había tenido convulsiones. Papá salió con mi tía y el niño rumbo al hospital, pero luego regresó solo en la noche:
_Lo dejaron hospitalizado porque deben hacerle muchos exámenes. Rafaela está muy preocupada porque los exámenes son muy costosos - dijo mi papá ante las preguntas insistentes de mi abuela.
Según mi papá, el golpe había sido tan fuerte que tal vez le había afectado el cerebro:
_El golpe lo dejó inconsciente - afirmó papá moviendo negativamente la cabeza.
Esa semana y las siguientes fue un ir y venir al hospital, mañana y tarde, y aunque no teníamos permitido preguntar mucho, mi abuela nos decía:
_Con el favor de Dios y la Virgen, él va a mejorar. - decía mi abuela mirando de frente a la virgen como cuando una madre le habla a otra madre.
Yo nunca supe cuándo vaciaron el bol de la virgen, tampoco cuando comenzaron a prenderle velas a la virgencita del Valle. Sólo veía a mi abuelita que se mantenía rezando, día y noche, frente al altar improvisado. Yo la miraba y pensaba, en mis pensamientos infantiles, que tal vez mi abuela rezaba tanto porque había gastado el dinero que estaba en el bol y que seguramente tenía miedo que la Virgencita la castigara.
Solo meses después, cuando mi primo salió de peligro y lo dieron de alta, le pregunté a mi abuela:
_¿Maíta, dónde está el dinero del bol?
_ Se gastó - dijo mi abuela sin querer ahondar en el asunto.
_¿Y qué compraron? - pregunté con curiosidad.
_Un milagro. Se compró un milagro - respondió mi abuela y por mucho tiempo yo creí que los milagros se compraban y que eran muy caros.
A very tender story. Among the grandmother's convictions, the father's need, the accident, and the child's innocence, a family dynamic emerges that evoked nostalgia in me. Thank you, @nancybriti1. My grandmother also had a makeshift altar, with a bowl and a Virgin figurine.
I believe that there are things that never change and that are the same in all countries and with all grandmothers! Grandmothers' altars are one of those things. Greetings and thanks for commenting
I was cracking up at the frog hair and finger-growing one-armed man line but then you flipped it on us, real smooth.
That was a saying my grandmother had to say: “jamás”. hahaha. Greetings
Your story reminded me of my late grandmother's devotion. I think all grandmothers have that very special devotion. A beautiful ending where the money had an almost mystical ending.
Thanks for sharing your experience with us.
Excellent Thursday.
That's exactly what I was thinking. There are things that unite us, that are eternal, that don't need language and the devotion of grandmothers is one of them. A beautiful Thursday, my friend
A beautiful story told with a wee sense of humour. The coins went into good use and I'm sure that's what the Virgin Mother would have wanted.
Saving the life of that young boy was indeed a miracle.
Yes, I learned that later, over the years that the money had been used to give my cousin the tests. One way or another, the money was used to perform the miracle. Greetings and thank you for your comment
Happy and grateful for your valuation, friends.
I know your grandmother. I grew up with her. She was my mother, and my aunt. She was any of the women in my family who were devoted to the Virgin Mary. No one in my family would have questioned that jar. My mother made promises to the Virgin that she held to for a lifetime. I had an aunt who wore brown every day, after the end of WWII, because of a promise she made to Our Lady of Mount Carmel.
I love this story. You were lucky to have that grandmother.
We were very lucky, because you were also lucky to have such faith-filled women around you. We are very fortunate. Greetings and thank you for such a beautiful comment.
I always smile when I read one of your grandmother stories!
Do you know why?
Well, it is because she always gives you a scolding🤣
I never knew the Virgin Mary's bowl, I presume after the miracle was bought, the bowl got filled with money again? A big miracle hug to you Nancy :)
Of course. In fact, then came other bowls, and other miracles. Without knowing it, my grandmother and my father have become my great references. A hug for you, Ed :)
Oh and do you have your virgin bowl Nancy?
Last year I asked with all my might for a miracle, but it didn't happen! Maybe I still don't have enough “points” to get a miracle, Ed! :(