The Four Seeds

By Mary Grace Klukosky

Stella is a young mother and nurse struggling to hold onto her faith as she faces infidelity and divorce while trying to support and care for her children, her coworkers, and her patients. As Stella faces pain, anger, and heartbreak, she discovers her strengths and weaknesses. She learns to accept God’s grace.

Stella learns not only who she really is in Christ, but also who God really is and what He truly expects of her. Just as Jesus talked about the four seeds, Stella will find out just what kind of seed she truly is.

The Four Seeds is a heartfelt, emotional Christian novel about a young woman trying to believe in the goodness of God despite incredible difficulty. God does not promise Christians a pain free life. Every Christian needs to learn how to trust God, even when trouble derails our happiness. Stella’s story will help show how God can use our trials to mold us into His image. It may also help you to be prepared when suffering invades your personal story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jan 30, 2024
• ISBN: 9798385007646

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Copyright © 2024 Mary Grace Klukosky.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

WestBow Press

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®.

Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.™

Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide.

ISBN: 979-8-3850-0763-9 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-3850-0762-2 (hc)

ISBN: 979-8-3850-0764-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023917733

WestBow Press rev. date: 01/29/2024

CONTENTS

Domestic Storm

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

DOMESTIC STORM

Beside a faded yellow house,

Behind a gray picket fence,

Beneath a golden warm sun,

Young arms merrily clasp her mother’s thickening waist.

Mother, do not sweetly smile beneath the topaz sky.

See the thunderhead menacing your sun,

Feel the cold winds tearing at your sheets,

Hear the silence of the singing birds,

He joyously laughs as he conjures the storm.

Callous words rent the placid dawn with a clap of exploding thunder,

Lightning splits the sky as torrential words

Pummel the tranquil pair,

Ripping, tearing, lashing, thrashing mother and child.

Deaf to his love’s pleas,

Blind to his child’s tears,

He gladly leaves with another,

Abandoning mother and child.

The maelstrom tapers with his going.

Stark silence saturates the ravaged land,

Gone is the pale house and gray picket fence.

Gray clouds blot the warming sun,

Mother battered, bleeding, rises,

Comforts the wounded child.

Wiping her tears,

Her trembling hands grow steady.

Her bowed back straightens.

As she surveys the damage from the storm.

Shoulders back and head held high with child at her side,

She alone rebuilds the sunny yellow house beneath the topaz sky.

CHAPTER 1

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Stella looked down to see a quarter-sized spot of some fluid, possibly human, on her thigh. How did that get there—and how long has it been there? Stella sighed as she rubbed furiously at the spot with an alcohol swab. Her legs ached from being on her feet for thirteen hours with no real break or lunch. She removed the stethoscope that hung heavy around her neck. The kids will be in bed by the time I get home, she thought. I hope. Stella swiped her badge through the time clock with a large sigh of relief, just as Joan, the charge nurse, arrived.

Rough day? Joan asked.

Stella nodded and tried to push back the loose hair that had slipped from her ponytail and fallen across her face. Stella looked at Joan with jealousy. How did she always manage to have her hair so impeccably styled no matter what wildness occurred during the shift? Joan’s green scrub top with purple dragonflies perfectly matched her plain green pants and purple crocs. She had multiple shoes of various colors to match her uniforms. Her socks even matched her scrubs. Green ankle socks were visible through the holes in her shoes.

I bet her underwear even matches, Stella thought ruefully. Yes, Mrs. Leoni passed away right at the end of shift, and her family really had a hard time coping. Carmen, being new, wanted me to stay until the chaplain could arrive.

Joan nodded. As a nurse, dealing with the grief of a family was a skill that could not be taught. It took experience, compassion, and practice.

How are they doing now? asked Joan.

After Chaplain Marks met with them, they were finally able to say their goodbyes. The patient care techs are taking the patient to the morgue. The funeral home has been called and will pick up Mrs. Leoni in the a.m. Stella sighed heavily again, recalling the tears the family had shed. It was all she could do not to cry with them.

Is the death certificate signed yet? Joan asked, tapping the top of her clipboard with her pen.

Dr. Reales said he would come by first thing in the morning.

He had better, Joan responded. You know we can’t release the body until he signs it.

Stella nodded.

Good. See you tomorrow morning, Joan said before marching off toward the nursing unit.

Stella adjusted her purse and slung it over her shoulder. Even that felt too heavy to carry right now.

The drive home was one of Stella’s favorite times of the day. There was little traffic, and it gave her time to relax. To help her relax, Stella turned on the Christian music station and sang loudly along with her favorites. Cars passing by would have seen Stella waving her arms or clapping to the beat at the lights. Stella liked singing alone because no one griped about her flat voice or the way she sang too loudly or out of key.

As usual, the music lifted her spirits, and she was in a good mood until she pulled into her driveway. She groaned loudly as a small knot of irritation instantly flared in her belly. Stella could see every room was lit up. The kids were obviously not tucked into bed for the night, which meant they would be grumpy and irritable for school the next day. She sighed deeply to release the irritation. Well, at least I get to see them, she thought, trying to look on the bright side, but this did little to relieve the tension.

As she walked into the house, she was greeted with the usual mess. Stella gritted her teeth as she carefully stepped over toys, crayons, papers, and shoes scattered across the living room floor. The kitchen table still had the fast food and dirty plates from dinner sitting on the table. A pink drink had been spilled and leaked onto the floor. It had not been cleaned up and now was partially dried. Stella stomped her foot in frustration. She forced a smile when two small children—a six-year-old boy and a four-year-old girl—ran into the room, both their faces decorated with black permanent marker.

Her six-year-old’s freckled face and big eyes smiled up at her. Do you like the mustaches we drew? We are like Daddy now.

Yeah, said her four-year-old, bouncing up and down.

Wonderful, Stella flatly mumbled as she gave each child a hug and kiss. She dropped her purse onto the sticky counter and began picking up the dinner mess. As she cleaned, the knot in her stomach grew tighter. She tried to say calmly to the children jumping happily next to her, Where is your dad?

He’s on the computer, they chimed together and ran off.

Stella paced around the kitchen in anger, trying to carefully form her words as she had learned in her counseling class. Ricky had not done anything he had promised he would do when she went to work that morning. The knot in her stomach felt like it was now the size of a football. Angrily throwing the dirty dishes in the sink and wiping down the table, she prayed silently in her head. Her prayer was not divine or spiritual; it was just a rant to God about her husband. She carefully listed all her complaints one by one as she had done in the past.

Stella whispered, Heavenly Father, please help me talk to my husband. I am so angry right now. The tension decreased in her gut, and she closed her eyes as tiny tears of frustration welled up. Wiping away the tears, she walked into the office to see her husband bent over the computer, controls in his hands, mesmerized by a video game. He did not even notice she had walked into the room. The whoosh of a flying spaceship and explosions as it shot down imaginary enemies filled the room.

Hello, Stella mumbled as she leaned against the wall.

Hi, he muttered without taking his eyes from the computer screen. She watched him vigorously shake the remote as he tried to shoot down the enemy ships.

Can we talk? Stella asked, trying to keep her voice calm and neutral. Ricky got irritated with her if she showed signs of anger or frustration.

I’m almost done, he answered without taking his eyes off the screen. I have to finish this level, or I will lose everything I’ve done. As Ricky expertly shot down another row of enemy fighters, Stella let out a groan and left the room. She rounded up the two children, washed the marker off their faces as best she could, put them in their pajamas, and tucked them into bed. When she was done, she went back into the office. Ricky was still engrossed in his game.

Taking a deep breath, she said to the back of his head and the flashing lights, I am feeling very frustrated right now. Can you please get off the game and talk to me?

What are you ticked off about now? Ricky growled, ignoring her request. Stella bit her lip as she watched the spaceships dash across the screen. Bad day at work again?

No, Stella began, then stopped. Well, yes, but that’s not why I am frustrated. Stella leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Watching Ricky play his game was making her even more aggravated. I can’t talk to you while you’re playing that game.

I’ll be done in a moment, Ricky said.

Stella rolled her eyes as she watched him. You promised to clean up the dinner and get the kids into bed so I could relax when I got home, she said to the back of Ricky’s head. Stella waited a few moments, but Ricky did not respond. You didn’t do a thing.

Ricky shrugged his shoulders. I got busy.

Stella rubbed her forehead with her fingers. The incandescent lights coming from the computer screen were making her head ache.

Ricky finished the level with a massive explosion and started a new one.

I thought you were going to just finish that level and get off, Stella muttered through clenched teeth.

I’ll be done in a minute, Ricky said.

Stella closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The knot in her stomach had grown as her frustration flowered.

Can you get off that ridiculous machine now? Stella cried. I need to talk to you.

Ricky angrily dropped the controller onto the desk and twirled around in his chair. What? he demanded, crossing his arms with his back stiff against the chair.

Stella took a deep breath in an effort to keep her voice even. I am feeling very frustrated, she repeated, wiping away some tears. When I get home, I am very tired, and seeing the toys all over the floor, the food all over the table, and the kids a mess and running around makes me feel as though you do not care about me.

You always make a big deal about everything, Ricky answered, turning around in his chair and picking up the controller again. What’s the big deal? I fed the kids, and they are fine.

"The house and kids were a mess … no … they are a mess."

Ricky shrugged again.

Stella fought the urge to rip the game controller out of Ricky’s hands. She clenched her hands in frustration.

The house is always a mess, Ricky countered, his eyes glued to the computer screen. If you’re tired, clean it in the morning.

I work tomorrow too, she snapped.

Ricky did not respond, his attention focused on the screen. Tears of frustration slipped from Stella’s eyes, and she quickly wiped them away. Tears just made Ricky shut down even more. He had accused her once of using tears to manipulate him. I work as many hours a week as you do. Why can’t you help around the house?

Designing bridges is mentally exhausting, Ricky answered, glancing at her over his shoulder. If I make a miscalculation, people could die. I need time to wind down. Besides, playing computer games helps me think.

"My job is just as stressful, Stella argued. If I am tired or upset, I could make a mistake and hurt people too." Her voice was now cracking and high-pitched. Even to her ears, it sounded whiny.

Ricky ignored her.

The knot of tension grew in her stomach as she watched a new game boot up. Stella bent down and angrily unplugged the computer.

Hey! Ricky yelled, whirling around in his chair and glaring at Stella before bending down to plug the computer back in. What is your problem? he said as he waited for the computer to boot up.

You are! Stella stomped her foot. You do nothing to help me at all. You can’t even get Audri and Charlie into bed. She gritted her teeth. After twelve hours of being on my feet, I’m tired!

Then go to bed. No one is stopping you, Ricky said slowly, pronouncing each word.

Stella’s whole body stiffened. Her hands were balled into fists at her side. I can’t. The kitchen is disgusting. There is old food all over the table, spilled juice, dirty dishes. The living room looks like a tornado hit it. Stella pointed passionately toward the offending rooms. She was annoyed that her voice had become so high-pitched as she talked. I can’t sleep knowing that there is this huge mess, which if you would just make a little effort, would not be so huge.

Sure, it’s all my fault as usual. Ricky punched some keys on the computer, restarting his game.

Stella stamped her foot again. You agreed to clean up the kitchen and get the kids into bed. Why can’t you do that? Stella’s voice continued to rise as she fought back angry tears. She was looking at the back of Ricky’s head again. She knew he was mad because his back and shoulders were stiff. Well, I am mad too, she thought. You don’t help at all, she said to Ricky’s back. The kids needed a bath, it’s way past their bedtime, the house is a mess, and you’re playing video games like a child.

Ricky glanced back at her. Why are you such a nag?

Why are you so immature? Stella yelled, finally losing her temper.

Your tone is disrespectful. He threw down the controller. That’s abusive. I’m sick and tired of putting up with your demands. He stood up, grabbed his coat, and stormed out the front door.

Stella slammed the door behind him as angry hot tears welled up in her eyes. Why was it so hard for him to see her point of view? Tears began to flow down her cheeks, but the sound of two children fighting immediately disrupted the flow. Stella quickly wiped away the tears as she entered the bedroom in time to see them in a tug-of-war over a stuffed bear. Stella snatched the bear away from the children. Stop it! If you’re going to fight over the bear, then no one gets it, Stella shrieked more harshly than she had intended.

Both children looked at her in shock.

Stella let out a sigh, releasing a mountain of tension. It’s not fair to take out my frustrations on them, she thought. She brushed back a few stray hairs and forced a smile. Come on. It’s time for bed. Let’s go to sleep, she said more gently.

After they were tucked into bed, she let each one pick a book for bedtime. When she finished the two books, she knelt by their beds to say bedtime prayers with them. Kissing each child on the forehead, she said, Now go to sleep. Please … Mommy’s tired.

Stella went to the kitchen to finish cleaning up the sticky mess. When she was done, she checked in on the kids. They were both sound asleep. Thank you, Jesus, Stella whispered. She slipped into her pajamas and brushed her teeth.

The silence in the house was deafening, and Stella was acutely aware that Ricky had not yet returned.

Stella knelt beside her bed to say her evening prayers. Lord, you know I’m trying to be a good wife, but I don’t know how much more I can take. Ricky and I can’t even talk to each other. Why does he find it so difficult to help me?

After she finished praying, Stella went out to the living room to wait for Ricky. She sat down among the scattered toys in the living room and began to pick them up. Beneath the toys were peanut butter crackers that had been ground into the beige carpet. Tears of anger and frustration starting streaming down her cheeks again. Ricky just lets the kids do whatever they want. Does he even watch them?

Stella rubbed the carpet furiously with a moist towel and tried to get up as much as she could. She got the majority of the peanut butter up, but some was deeply embedded in the carpet. She was able to pick up the larger pieces, but the smaller pieces had to be left alone. I will have to vacuum tomorrow. Can’t do it now because the kids are asleep. She glanced at the front door. Where is Ricky?

Stella curled up onto the puce green overstuffed couch that her husband had insisted they buy because it was on sale. Stella hated everything about the couch, but Ricky had insisted that it was too good a deal to pass up. He insisted she could always throw a cover over it if she hated the color. Tired of the argument in the middle of the store, Stella had given in like she usually did. It’s just a couch. Is it really worth this fight? Stella had tried using a cover, but more often than not, it was on the floor and not on the couch. She had given up on trying to cover it and had come to hate the couch with a passion. It represented so much of what was wrong with their marriage. Ricky seldom compromised, and Stella always gave in.

Focus on the good points. Stella sighed; this was becoming a daily exercise. She started to tick off his good qualities in her head. He does love the kids, and they do love him. He takes them fishing and camping in the summer. He works hard and brings home his paycheck. He is willing to help people. He does the oil changes on the car. She drifted off to sleep and was woken up with a start as the front door opened. Where did you go? she said sleepily as she sat up. She glanced at her watch. It was two o’clock in the morning. It’s really late.

Ricky tossed his jacket onto a chair. I ran into an old friend at Walter’s Market, and we got to talking. Lost track of time.

For this long? Stella asked. Aren’t you going to be tired? Don’t you need to be well rested to ensure you make no mistakes? Stella winced.

If Ricky noticed the sarcasm, he ignored it. I slept in the car. Why do you need to know everything I am doing?

Stella said, I was just wonder—

Ricky shoved a small bag of groceries into her arms. We were out of bread. He sat on the couch and untied his sneakers.

Thanks. Stella glanced into the bag and sat down next to Ricky. We need to talk about what happened tonight.

Ricky barely glanced at her as the took off his socks and tucked them into his shoes. I don’t want to talk. I’m tired and I am going to bed.

We are not supposed to let the sun go down on our anger, Stella replied, trying to remind her husband of past counseling recommendations.

Ricky sat up, ran his hands through his hair, and looked at Stella. That is not even a realistic. He picked up his shoes and stood up. I am going to bed. He headed toward the hallway, paused, turned around, and scowled at Stella. You know, you cause most of the fights in this house with your constant whining. He