Until the Miracles Come

By Paul Paprocki

Tragedy struck Celeste House at the age of nine when both of her parents were killed in a car accident. Over the next twenty years, life threw her one hard punch after another. Determined to have a better life, each time she was knocked down, she stood up and reentered the ring.

Although she was working three jobs, she teetered on the brink of bankruptcy. Celeste and her seven-year-old son, Henry, lived in a rundown apartment in a bad neighborhood. This prompted her to pray every day for God to help her provide for her son. Henry also prayed every day for his mother to be happy. None of their prayers, however, had been answered.

While eating a TV dinner for her Thanksgiving meal, Celeste reached her breaking point. Defeated, she realized that only a miracle could turn things around. Frustrated, she went to her church and asked God why he had not been honoring her requests. This time God spoke to her, but it was not the answer she had expected.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Apr 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781512781342

Paul Paprocki

After being diagnosed with a juvenile form of Macular Degeneration, Paul Paprocki became legally blind at the age of sixteen. As a Christian, he prayed for guidance and wisdom to live a productive life. Forty-three years later, Paul shares God’s answers in a fictional novel.

Book preview

Chapter One

She’s against the ropes and her legs are shaky as the blows keep coming. Where’s the Rocky theme song when you need it?

—Celeste House’s diary

While Celeste was setting the dinner table, she wondered, how many years has it been? Her mind raced as she calculated twenty years. She thought, Twenty years since I last shared Thanksgiving with my parents. That’s when it all started—a twenty-year streak of bad luck.

When she turned the microwave on to heat two turkey TV dinners, she recalled the many disappointing Thanksgivings she had shared with Grandma House. Her grandmother was an elderly woman, in poor health, whose husband had passed away many years before leaving her only a small pension. Grandma House tried her best, but she lacked the energy and resources to be a good parent. Increasingly, Celeste became her grandmother’s caregiver, and she grew up lonely and poor.

As the microwave finished, her worst Thanksgiving memory flashed through her mind. When she was fourteen years old, she saved her babysitting money for many weeks and purchased the food for a Thanksgiving feast. After preparing a turkey, real mashed potatoes, stuffing, acorn squash, deviled eggs, and a pumpkin pie, her grandmother was too ill to eat. Celeste sat at the festively decorated table and celebrated the holiday by herself.

Henry, her seven-year-old son, brought her back to the present when he sat down at the table to eat. Celeste brought the TV dinners and joined him. As she began to eat, Henry said, Mom, don’t you think we should pray and thank God for our many blessings?

She nodded. Yes, Henry. We should. I’ll start. Lord Jesus, thank you for my son, Henry! I pray that you watch over us every day and bless us.

Henry prayed, God, I know you love me and my mother. We’ve had a tough couple of years, but I know that you’re waiting until the time is right to help us. Thank you, Lord! Amen.

After Henry had taken a few bites, he said, Mom, I miss Dad.

I miss him, too, Henry.

We don’t talk about him very often. Could you tell me about him?

Summoning all her strength, Celeste said, I met Randy, your father, when I was in college. We got married and soon afterwards, you were born. I dropped out of school to help him graduate and to take care of you.

Why did he leave us?

When you were two years old, your father left us because we were making it difficult for him to become rich, like his parents. They were mad that we got married and decided not to talk to us again.

Isn’t that sort of childish?

Celeste hid a laugh. Yes, Henry, it is. The Bensons are very wealthy and they were used to calling the shots. I think they were angry because they had no control over our marriage.

Mom? Why is my last name Benson and your last name House?

After the divorce, I changed my name back to my parents’ last name and kept your name Benson, hoping that your father’s parents would someday accept you as their grandson.

Is it dad’s fault that we’re so poor?

Celeste struggled to answer his question. It’s not that simple, Henry. Many things have happened that have hurt our finances.

Henry could tell his mother was getting upset. I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to ask so many questions.

It’s OK, Henry. You’re getting to be so grown up. I think it’s good that you learn more about your dad.

Is it OK if I ask one more question?

Sure. Go ahead.

Why did we lose our house?

For several years, I saved every dollar I could for a down payment on a house. I met a man who owned a construction company who said he could help me. I trusted him and he sold us a nice house. I didn’t realize it was too expensive and I would never be able to make the payments. He took the house back, sold it, and I lost all my savings.

Will we ever get our house back?

That’s two.

Two, what?

Teasing him, she said, Two questions. You said you had only one more question. They both laughed. "Our finances are very bad, Henry. I don’t think we will get a house for a very long time. I’m sorry.

Cheer up, Mom. I love you!

Celeste kissed him and said, I love you, too! She jumped up from the table and ran to the bathroom for a tissue. She was embarrassed that, despite working three jobs, the best she could provide was a run-down apartment in a bad neighborhood. She couldn’t even afford a decent Thanksgiving meal. As she wiped away her tears, she decided she needed to go to church and have a heart-to-heart talk with God.

Chapter Two

Unlimited talk on the 3G network, but maybe listening is better.

—Celeste House’s diary

The morning sun shone into the church through the magnificent stained glass Catherine window, illuminating the sanctuary with an iridescent hue of colors. The large, round window derived its name from Saint Catherine of Alexandria, who was a princess, the daughter of a pagan king and queen. At the age of fourteen, she converted to Christianity and was sentenced to be executed on a spiked wheel. The attempt failed, and Catherine lived, leading hundreds to Christ. Eventually, she was tortured and beheaded for not renouncing her faith.

The colored light from the window glistened on Celeste’s face as she gazed at its beauty. It was Saturday, two days after Thanksgiving. She was in the balcony of her church, her favorite place to pray. The balcony was illuminated by the Catherine window that was directly above and behind it. Her head slowly turned to the front of the sanctuary, where her eyes were instantly drawn to the large wooden cross that hung above the altar. With the warmth of the sunlight on her back, she breathed in the familiar smell. It seemed to her that all old churches had the same smell, the smell of time. The window, the cross, and the smell heightened her senses and helped her mind to focus on the great history of her faith.

Bowing her head, she began to pray. Lord, please help provide for me and my son. Frustrated, she stopped her prayer. A year earlier, she had promised God and herself that she would be a prayer warrior, praying faithfully every day. Being a single mother with a seemingly endless work schedule left her with little spare time, but she had honored her pledge.

After a year of devoted prayers, however, the unfortunate truth was she felt farther away from God, not closer. She thought, Lord, why are You not answering me?

During her shift at work the night before, she had overheard two customers talking. One of them had said, If you want to improve your friendship, you have to stop talking and start listening. Celeste contemplated their conversation and resumed her prayer. God, you must be sick of listening to me. I’m so sorry that I haven’t listened to you. Please forgive me! She pulled her small Bible from her purse and randomly opened it to Romans 5:2–5.

…through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

Celeste closed her Bible, then reopened it. The first words she saw were the words of Jesus from the Sermon on the Mount.

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

(—Matthew 6:25–34)

Celeste immediately resumed her prayer, saying, God, I heard You loud and clear. I should have prayed not to have You eliminate my problems, but to use them with Your help to build my character. Also, Lord, I’m sorry I have been begging for things that You have already promised. Thank You for giving me the wisdom to see my error. You have restored my hope.

After praying, she pondered its implications. I understand God’s message. I think I can endure the sufferings and, with God’s help, turn them into character. Then she thought about Henry. My sufferings are Henry’s sufferings. How much character should one expect from a seven-year-old? It only took a minute for reason to outthink faith. As her mind waged the doubt-faith war, Celeste glanced down into the church and was startled when she realized she was being watched.

Chapter Three

I’m sure God has a sense of humor.

—Celeste House’s diary

Pastor Bob and Mark Johnson met in the front of the church to discuss how best to assist the youth pastor with his field trip scheduled for the next day. Pastor Bob had led the congregation for ten years, and Mark joined the church five years ago. Currently, he helps the youth pastor and teaches a Sunday school class.

Their conversation halted as they simultaneously gazed up to the balcony. Silhouetted by the morning light sat a woman deep in meditation. Mark thought the scene looked like a painting of a saint in prayer.

He whispered, Bob. Who is that?

Her name is Celeste, and she’s been a member of the church since the birth of her son seven years ago.

Why haven’t I seen her?

She’s a single mother who works several different jobs and can’t come very often, but when she does, she’s the proverbial ‘wallflower’.

Celeste descended the stairs of the balcony and reticently walked over to the two men.

Bob said, I’m so sorry we intruded, but we couldn’t help noticing your intense prayer.

She seemed at a loss for words when Mark extended his hand and said, Hi, I’m Mark Johnson.

With a slight hesitation, Celeste extended her hand. Nice to meet you. I’m Celeste House.

We just happened to look up as you finished praying. Sorry if we made you uncomfortable. Mark said apologetically.

She smiled shyly. Actually, I had finished praying and was telling God jokes.

Mark chuckled. Which one was his favorite?

As though a match to tinder, Celeste lit up and said, "Three pagans died in a car crash and went to the gates of heaven, asking if they could enter. Saint Peter met them, looked them over, and thought, ‘I better check these men out and see how much they know.’ He then asked, ‘Does anyone know the true meaning of Easter?’

"One man stepped forward and said ‘Yes, it’s when the fat bearded guy brings toys to all the kids.’ Saint Peter was stunned.

"The next man stepped forward and said ‘No, he’s wrong, it’s when the family gets together and has a huge feast celebrating that the crops were good.’ Saint Peter couldn’t even speak.

The third man stepped forward and said ‘They are both wrong. It all started on Good Friday when the Romans crucified Christ.’ Saint Peter stood up straighter and smiled. ‘They put his body in a tomb and rolled a giant stone in front of it. Then, on Easter Sunday morning, the stone rolled away from the tomb, Christ walked out, saw his shadow, and went back into the cave for another six weeks.’

Bob and Mark roared with laughter until they observed that Celeste’s fire had extinguished as quickly as it had ignited. The defeated look returned to her face and, in a soft voice, she said, I apologize for interrupting you. I need to go and get ready for work. With downcast eyes, she quickly exited the church.

The two men stared at one another before Mark commented, Oh! I think she has quite a story to tell.

Pastor Bob remarked, God has a plan for her, I just know it. I pray it happens before she has nothing left.

That night, Mark could not sleep because his encounter with Celeste earlier in the day had overwhelmed him with childhood memories. In sixth grade, he was asked by a teacher to help a struggling classmate, Lemont Washington. Academically, Mark was the top student in the school, but, socially, he lagged behind his peers. Tending to be an introvert, he was uncomfortable with the idea of tutoring someone, but the teacher was very persuasive and he finally acquiesced. Several days later, the boys met after school at Lemont’s small, unkempt apartment.

Naive, Mark assumed that everyone’s home life and opportunities were about the same. His father was a doctor and his stay-at-home mother was always available to take him or his siblings to their many extracurricular activities. They lived in a five-bedroom house in a nice neighborhood. He felt guilty when he compared his house to the apartment, and it only intensified when he saw that Lemont’s refrigerator was empty, except for mustard, ketchup, and half a dozen sodas.

Lemont’s face could not hide his displeasure with Mark’s preppy clothes and polite manners. Both boys seemed to understand that they were from different worlds and the tutoring sessions were probably a bad idea. However, Mark gave the sessions his maximum effort when he determined his student was very intelligent, and Lemont responded accordingly. Without a word ever being said, the study sessions switched to Mark’s house and Lemont frequently stayed for dinner. Within a few weeks, the boys became best friends.

Mark was dumbfounded that one simple suggestion by a teacher led to a big break for both of them. Lemont excelled academically and used his education to become an attorney, while Mark used his newfound social skills to become a high school science teacher. The friendship had endured and to this day they were still best friends. He reflected on his childhood for almost half an hour before he closed his eyes to pray, God, please watch over Celeste and her son. I think they just need a break like my friend, Lemont and I needed so many years ago. Don’t let her lose faith and … A calm descended on him, his eyelids got heavy, and he fell asleep before he could finish the prayer.

Chapter Four

Out of the mouth of babes …

—Jesus Christ (Matthew 21:16)

Celeste jerked, wakened by the sound of crashing dishes. For a minute, she struggled to figure out what day and time it was, as though she had just snapped out of a coma. Gradually, she remembered falling asleep last night on the sofa after working a busy double shift. More dishes crashed as she stumbled to her feet and ran into the kitchen. Her son, Henry, was washing the dishes, standing on a stepstool to reach down into the sink. Celeste saw stacks of plates and cups precariously balanced on the counter, but, to her surprise, there were no broken dishes, just lots of noise.

Good morning, Mom. I’m cleaning the apartment.

Thank you, Henry, but that’s not necessary.

I know, but you’ve been working a lot, and I wanted to help you. Besides, it’s about time for me to become the man of the house.

Celeste stifled a laugh. And what made you decide to become the man of the house?

It was after my prayers last night. I fell asleep and dreamed I saw grandma.

Celeste’s smile disappeared. You had a dream about my mother?

Yes, she talked to me.

What did she say?

She said she loves us and, until the miracles come, your mother needs help! She has done all that she can possibly do and just can’t do anymore. Just before I woke up, she asked me to be the man of the house, to help you.

Celeste passed it off as a silly dream, but she was happy to see that her son responded with so much enthusiasm.