So, here’s the thing. When most of us think about Encanto, we imagine Isabela’s picture-perfect flowers, Luisa’s Herculean strength, and Abuela Madrigal’s no-nonsense leadership. But let’s get real for a second—there’s one character who doesn’t get enough love. I’m talking about Mirabel. The only one in the family without a magical gift. The one who, for all her quirks and imperfections, is literally the glue holding the Madrigal family together. I mean, let’s be honest—Mirabel may have no glowing powers, but she’s the secret sauce behind the family’s survival.

So how does the girl with no magic end up being the family’s salvation? That’s what we’re diving into.

Mirabel: The Unexpected Savior

Okay, so let’s rewind for a second. Mirabel’s lack of a gift in a family of overachievers isn’t just a small detail. It’s a big deal. Everyone’s got something going on—super strength, flower power, even a house that moves (we’ll get to that later). Mirabel? She’s left out. Ouch. For a while, she’s the underdog. But, and this is key—being the only one without magic doesn’t make her less valuable. It makes her the unsung hero of the story.

I was kind of like Mirabel when I first tried to grow my herb garden—my first herb garden, by the way, that died faster than my 2020 sourdough starter—RIP, Gary. The only thing I grew was regret. Anyway, here’s the kicker: Mirabel’s magic isn’t in flowers or lifting mountains. It’s in her heart, her determination, and yeah—her ability to bring the family back from the brink of disaster.

Mirabel starts off in the story as this outcast in a world where magic equals value. You think about Isabela and Luisa—Isabela’s grace, Luisa’s brawn. But Mirabel? No gift, no grand powers to boast. Yet she still finds herself at the center of the storm, not because of what she can do, but because of who she is. She’s the one who sees the cracks, who feels the weight of the family’s pressure, and—yep—she’s the one who’s gonna fix it all. So, let’s just get this straight: Mirabel is the heroine. And it’s not the gift-less girl who saves the family; it’s the human one.

Cracks in the Family’s Magic

Now, let’s talk about the magic. Because it’s not all sparkles and rainbows. Sure, the Madrigal family’s magic looks awesome on the surface. Who wouldn’t want to turn rocks into roses or bench press a donkey? But behind the magic, there’s something… off. The family’s gifts—meant to be blessings—have become a trap. Yikes. Everyone’s got expectations to live up to, and guess what? Those pressures are starting to crack the foundation of the Madrigal home.

The house, Casita, is like a character in itself—it’s the literal physical embodiment of the family’s magic. It moves, dances, fixes things, even scolds people (kind of like my aunt Carol, no joke). But when the family starts unraveling emotionally, the house does too. As cracks appear in the structure, so do the cracks in their relationships. It’s not just the tiles falling off; it’s their connection to each other coming undone.

And here’s where Mirabel comes in. While the others are too wrapped up in their own chaos—Isabela’s perfect image, Luisa’s unbreakable shoulders—Mirabel sees things that no one else does. The magic? It’s disintegrating. And she knows that the only way to save it isn’t by fixing a house, it’s by fixing the family.

How Mirabel Becomes the Family’s Healer

Fast forward past three failed attempts to “fix” the house, and Mirabel gets it. She figures out that the magic isn’t in the house, the flowers, or the super strength. It’s in the family’s relationships. And without getting all sappy on you, let’s just say Mirabel’s emotional intelligence is off the charts. She starts connecting the dots, like, “Hey, what if the magic’s cracking because we’re all too busy being perfect?”

You know, once I realized that I could still make a mean pot of chili without being a “perfect chef,” I felt something like Mirabel—free! She goes to work, one awkward family member at a time. There’s a moment when she realizes that Isabela is just as trapped as she is. Isabela’s entire existence is a carefully curated image of flawlessness, but Mirabel helps her break free. She shows her that it’s okay to be real, and maybe even messy. Mirabel, you’re the real MVP.

And let’s not forget Luisa, who’s been carrying the weight of the world (literally) on her shoulders. She’s trying to be everyone’s pillar, but Mirabel helps her see that it’s okay to ask for help. She doesn’t have to do it all. Man, I wish someone would have told me that before my third attempt at becoming an expert on composting—I swear, I killed more plants than I care to admit.

Mirabel’s not just solving problems; she’s untangling the emotional mess that her family’s gifts have created. Once she helps them let go of their fears and the idea of perfection, the family starts to heal. It’s like the family starts rediscovering its roots—no pun intended.

Mirabel and Abuela: The Heart of the Family

Here’s where things get real deep. Because it’s not just about the family figuring out their own stuff—it’s also about Mirabel confronting her relationship with Abuela. If you’ve seen the movie, you know that Abuela Alma is the powerhouse behind the Madrigal family’s magic. She’s the one who’s been holding on to the idea that perfection and order are what keep the family—and their magic—alive. But let’s be honest, this type of control comes with its own price.

Mirabel, in her own awkward way, manages to get Abuela to see that magic, family, and love don’t come from control—they come from connection. Yeah, it took a lot of patience (and probably some deep breathing exercises), but Mirabel gets through to Abuela. And suddenly, everything changes. The house begins to heal. And that’s when the magic starts to return. It’s a beautiful, tear-jerking moment—well, at least I was crying by the end of it.

But here’s the thing—Mirabel’s not trying to save the magic just because she wants things to be normal. She’s doing it because she loves her family. And when she starts fixing the cracks between them, everything else falls into place.

The Real Magic: Love, Imperfection, and Acceptance

Here’s the kicker, though: the real magic in Encanto isn’t the flowers or the strength or the house. It’s love. It’s family. It’s the unspoken bond that ties everyone together despite their flaws. And Mirabel, the one without a magical gift, is the one who brings that back.

Let me tell you, I’ve learned the hard way that you can’t force perfection (shoutout to my failed attempt at home-brewing kombucha). But what I can do is love the process, embrace the mess, and be okay with not having everything figured out. And that’s what Mirabel teaches us. The magic of family isn’t in their gifts. It’s in their love for each other. And when Mirabel starts accepting herself, and when the family starts accepting each other, the real magic is restored.

Mirabel’s True Gift: Being Human

And here’s the thing—I don’t think Mirabel’s gift is ever truly magic. Sure, she’s part of a magical family, but her gift is the ability to see beyond the superficial. She sees her family’s pain. She feels their burdens. And that’s why, despite her lack of flashy powers, she’s the only one who can truly save the day.

Once she helps her family let go of their need for perfection, they find their magic in each other—not in their powers, not in their status, but in love and acceptance. I mean, is there a bigger lesson here? Mirabel may not have a glowing gift, but she’s the one who shines the brightest.