Why Mirakel

Mirakel is a danish word.

In English, it’s miracle. In Spanish, it’s milagro—. It is used to describe something divine, other times just as a way of saying “what a blessing,” or “what luck.”

Coming from Latin roots, where Catholicism and faith were an important part of what I grew up with, a “miracle” is word that I used to hear often on my daily life, that together with “God”. But when I first came to Denmark, religion suddenly became a big question mark for me. There seemed to be a church every three kilometers —but people didn’t really talk about it. Religion was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

When my daughter was born, I had to face the question again. Should we baptize her? For me, it couldn’t just be tradition—I didn’t want to do something so important unless it had meaning. After reading and reflecting, I realized that folkekirken, Lutheranism, was the right choice for our family. Faith matters to me. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not a fanatic. I don’t spend my days going to church or constantly talking about God. But after my bike accident, being alive at all felt like a miracle. Faith gave me a way to move forward, even in the confusion and fear.

That being said, I never really talked about religion with my Danish family or friends. What I have always talked about—and obsessed over—is the idea of creating something of my own. I’ve always been passionate about startups. Not because of numbers or status, but because I believe a startup is more than a business—it’s a way to build a community. A group of people who share values, support one another, and move forward together.

Ever since I came back from Colombia, I’ve carried that dream with me. I wanted to go for it, to build something that made sense to me. But life seemed to have other plans. First maternity. Then the accident. And then, the long, slow road to starting again.

So, Mirakel is a word that means a lot of things, specially for me. And maybe that’s the real miracle: the small things. A smile, a kind word, a bowl shared with someone you love. Those little moments remind me I’m alive and moving forward—step by step.

Still, here I am—part of Kitchen Collective, slowly turning that dream into reality. It hasn’t been easy. Most days, my thoughts still feel scattered. But every step counts.

Here is Ana arriving to her first day at Kitchen Collective run by Mia Maja Hansson.