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became years. Until she was two, Isabelle had numerous incidents where she stopped breathing—a common condition with premature babies. But each time she was able to start again on her own.
    “Each time your father and I would thank God for saving you. And each time we reminded ourselves that you were a fighter. You wanted to live; and that was the great est part of the miracle.”
    When Isabelle was a toddler, it had become obvious that she struggled with her gross motor skills.
    “The doctors told us that though it was a miracle you were alive, you definitely had cerebral palsy on your left side.” Lucy began to cry and put her hand over her mouth. Isabelle reached for her hand, tears stinging her own eyes. After a moment, Lucy found her voice once more. “The doctor said you would never learn to walk.”
    Isabelle's parents had talked over the diagnosis and de cided that only God could determine whether Isaballe would ever walk. After all, he'd brought her this far. Certainly he'd see her through to whatever plans he had for her life.
    As Isabelle grew, she encountered numerous chal lenges. But with every obstacle, she fought to overcome. She and her brothers developed a close friendship and never did her cerebral palsy keep her from playing with them.
    Suddenly Isabelle remembered something Lucy used to tell her when she was little. “Remember what you used to say?” she said, squeezing her mother's hand. “You'd tell me I was special, and that cerebral palsy wasn't a restriction or a problem. It was a reminder of how blessed I was to be alive.”
    “Yes.” Lucy wiped her tears from her cheeks. “You learned to walk by the time you were three and when you turned six, you began to dance.”
    At that point in the story Lucy hit the play button on the remote control and again the image of Isabelle as a young dancing girl lit up the television screen.
    Isabelle could hardly see the picture through the tears in her eyes.
I wasn't supposed to walk,
she thought.
Yet there I was, dancing across the stage. Dancing. And no one in the world could have made me stop.
    When the segment ended, Lucy leaned over and hugged Isabelle close. Then she tenderly touched a single finger to the area over her daughter's heart. “The fighter is still in there, honey. No matter what happens with the job, keep fighting. Because all of life is a dance.”
    Isabelle clung to her mother's words while she waited for word about the position. During that time, God worked in her heart as she hadn't allowed him to work in years. No longer was she discouraged by her limitations. Rather, she was reminded that every day, every breath, every step in the dance was a reason to celebrate.
    And that attitude made it all the better two weeks later when she received a phone call from the art school.
    “Isabelle,” the caller said, “we'd be honored if you'd ac cept our offer of a position at the school. We think you'll make an outstanding dance instructor.”
    It was the very best dream come true. Isabelle imagined how her mother would take the news, the way it would prove her right again that Isabelle was a living miracle. In that moment, Isabelle knew without a doubt that her mother was right about something else, too. The music still played; indeed, it would always play.
    And never again would Isabelle stop dancing.

Rescued by an Angel
    I t was Easter Sunday and Lola Randall had much to be thankful for. Times were hard and most people were still trapped in the throes of the Great Depression. But Lola's husband, Jeffrey, had a job in Phoenix and his in come provided a small home and plenty of food for their young family.
    They even had enough gasoline money to make the trip north that Sunday afternoon to Flagstaff, where Jef frey's parents lived.
    “Sure is a beautiful day to celebrate Easter,” Jeffrey commented as they drove through the scenic mountain roads and eventually into Greeley.
    Lola smiled and gazed out the car window. Then she turned