An Imperfect Miracle by Thomas L. Peters

kind of strange and mixed up for a second, but he didn’t say anything.
    â€œFaith healing,” Mom snorted kind of testy. “That’s the big new thing in town. I’m sure it’s just a passing fad though. I hope so anyway.”
    Then Mom told them how I was the first one to see Mary’s face on the concrete, and they all laughed about that. Even Uncle Carl seemed to perk up, which I was glad about because I wasn’t used to seeing Uncle Carl all sad and gloomy. Mom was the one who was supposed to be depressed all the time, not Uncle Carl.
    â€œThe town council is holding a public meeting tomorrow evening to discuss what to do about it,” Mom said. “I guess some people are complaining about all the traffic and noise.”
    Right away I asked Mom if we could go. She said that I could tag along with her if I promised to keep my mouth shut. I promised and she said okay, probably just so she wouldn’t look so mean and stubborn in front of Uncle Carl and Aunt Helen. Then Mom said we better get going because we had to get up early for church.
    Just as we stepped outside I gave a secret hand signal to Chewy to make sure she knew to climb back into our car. I hadn’t decided yet whether Chewy had superfast powers when it came to traveling, like she could fly or something, or whether she had to ride in the car with us. I expected she could fly home on her own if she really wanted to, but I didn’t feel like taking any chances.
    It wasn’t long before it was pitch black out, and as we drove along I could hear the crickets singing by the road, which always made me feel a little lonesome. Then my eyes got heavy, but I kept pinching the loose skin on my arm because I wanted to tell Mom something before I forgot.
    â€œI don’t wanna move out to the country.”
    Mom smiled up into the rearview mirror.
    â€œWe’ll have plenty of time to talk about it later.”
    â€œWhy are you always telling people that I don’t have any friends? Carlos likes me, and so do some of those old ladies like Mrs. Marcella.”
    â€œWhy don’t you go to sleep?”
    I must not have been able to hold out any longer, because everything went dark until we got home and Mom made me go to bed.

Chapter 5
    Mom said our church didn’t look like a lot of churches, because there weren’t any crosses or stained glass windows or pulpits or altars or anything too religious, nothing like the kind of stuff Carlos was always selling at his little table. We didn’t even have any song books or Bibles out where the people sat. Everything you needed to know, even the Bible verses and the words to the songs, they flashed up on a big screen behind the stage, just like at the movies. And the seats were soft and cushy too, not like those hard plastic chairs at school. You could even lean back a little and fall asleep if you wanted to, although sometimes it was hard to fall asleep with all the shouting and praising God going on. Some Catholic kids at school said I was a Protestant, even though I told them that our church was called “Lamb of the Redeemer Holy Ghost Worship and Revival Center.” Some kid with big ears even called me a Fundamentalist once, whatever that meant, and he made it seem like it wasn’t such a great thing to be, either. When I asked Mom about it, she said we weren’t really anything. She said the church was on its own and we just went there because we liked it. Our church didn’t have any statues of Mary outside, that was for sure.
    That Sunday Pastor Bob was preaching. He was real tall and lean, and from back where we sat most Sundays he looked like all nose, chin and legs, except for his thick gray hair that he combed straight back. Mostly I tuned Pastor Bob out and just sat there daydreaming, because he talked a lot about what to do and what not to do. And I had a hard time remembering all those little rules of his. I guess I could have