“Tell me a story,” said the 12-year-old girl.

His goddaughter was lying in bed. He was tucking her in. They had spent a full day playing on the beach. They were moderately sunburned because both are fair-skinned and ruddy.

“There once was a little girl,” he began. “She lived in a village far, far away.”

“What color was her hair?”

He paused. “Um. I don’t know. Her hair was… Um. Blond.”

“Was she tall or short?”

“I don’t know. Short.”

“Was she a blind person like me? Or did she have her vision?”

“She was blind, just like you.”

“Thank you for making her blind,” said the girl. “There are no stories about blind girls like me.”

“Well,” he went on, “this is a story about a blind girl.”

This pleased her. “What’s her name?”

“Um. Rhonda.”

“No. That’s a really weird name.”

“Okay, her name is Sherry.”

“Nobody is named Sherry.”

“What do you think her name should be?”

“Rachel.”

“Okay. It’s Rachel.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Continue.”

“Little Rachel was a brilliant young woman who had a voice like an angel. Whenever she sang, people came from miles around just to hear her angelic voice ring throughout the land.”

“What songs would she sing?”

“I don’t know. Regular songs.”

“Does she know ‘Thunder’ by Imagine Dragons? It goes like this…”

The little girl began to sing.

“I guess so,” he said. “She probably knows that song.”

“Good for her. That’s a good song to know. Go on.”

“Well, sometimes, the young princess was sought out by people who were going through very hard times of their own. Pilgrims and travelers were always stopping by the little girl’s village just to meet her and talk to her.”

“Wait? She’s a princess now?”

“Um. Yes.”

“Why did they want to meet her?”

“Because, the little girl was special.”

“Why was she special?”

“Because Rachel had gone through a lot in her life.”

“And that made her special?”

“Experience makes one special. Yes.”

“What had she gone through?”

“She was born into a bad situation.”

“Tell me about it.”

“The girl was born to a mother who was addicted to drugs, she was born into an unhealthy family who didn’t take care of her. It caused all kinds of health problems.

“The little girl went into foster care. She underwent more surgeries than anyone could count. And then she went blind.

“Then she was adopted by two wonderful foster parents in North Alabama who loved her and gave her a beautiful life. And then she inherited two fairy godparents from Birmingham.”

“This girl sounds familiar,” said the child.

“So anyway,” the storyteller went on, “this little girl helped many people throughout her lifetime.”

“How did she help them?” the girl asked.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“Rachel is blind. She can’t do anything.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. She could do more than she thought.”

“Like what?”

“Well, she cheered them up.”

She wrinkled her face. “That’s not actually ‘helping’ people.”

“Oh yes it is. Cheer is a precious commodity. In a dark, hateful world like ours, cheer is hard to find. There are millions who travel the world over just to find one thing that will cheer them up.”

“How did the girl cheer people up?”

“Just by being who she is.”

“Who is she?”

“I’m glad you asked. She is a perpetually optimistic young woman who, somehow, although she has gone through more hard times than ought be allowed, has remained so full of light, so full of joy, so full of faith, that she makes my heart proud.”

“Wow. She sounds special.”

“She is.”

“And just think,” the kid said, “you were going to name someone like that Rhonda.”