Hope Amidst the Sorrow

God is all-knowing; he comforts; he understands—even when we violently lose someone.

Anne Peterson

Another home shattered. Almost every night a story airs about domestic violence. But when you know the victim, you become part of the nightmare.

A study conducted in 50 states and the District of Columbia showed that 25 percent of abused women were victims of their former or present husbands or significant others. We wonder, Why don't these women leave? Peggy Dianovsky was trying to do just that. With her divorce papers nearly completed, she began telling family members of her decision. I remember the day I got my letter.

A letter eagerly opened
full of heavy burdens.
"Divorce" the letter read,
"violence" it went on.
A long distance call made
I can't talk now!
He's harassing me again.
Much later a phone rings
and two sisters talk.
One tells of a hurting heart
and ten years of pain,
The other sobs in silence.
Calling the police was easy.
I wish I would have done it sooner.
Days later another caller,
She's gone. No one knows where.
She never showed up at work.
Her husband says she just walked out.
Disbelief fills a sister's heart,
Too many questions invade her mind.
Why would she leave her kids?
Why didn't she take her car?
Why not wait for the money
that would be hers the next day?
Some questions in life get answered
and some take time.
It has been twenty-eight years
since two sisters talked,
And one still hurts.

"This is going to shock you, but I'm getting a divorce." What did she mean she was getting a divorce? She had the perfect life. They were on their third house, raising three beautiful boys; she had it all. Shocked? Yes, I was shocked. What could she be thinking?

I dialed my sister's number, thankful a phone call could bridge the 2,000 miles between us. I barely said hello when she cut in, "I can't talk now! He's harassing me again."

My stomach tied in knots as I heard him taunting her. I hurt all over. "I love you," I managed to say, "I'll pray."

Pacing back and forth, I sent up an urgent prayer for my sister, "God, please help her."

I didn't know what to do. I felt helpless, angry that I was so far away, and scared for my sister.

About ten o'clock that night my phone rang. Relieved to hear her voice, I let her talk. For an hour she filled me in on her marriage and what went on behind the scenes, while I silently wept for her. As she was wrapping up the conversation, she told me how much I was going to love being a mother. "I'm sending you a rocking horse for your son; my boys just loved it."

"Thanks, Peggy. I love you." I added, "Talk to you soon."

The nightmare escalated, but God was my anchor.

Two days later another family member called, "Peggy's gone; no one knows where."

Peggy disappeared just two days after we talked. She never showed up for work, for her dentist appointment, or for a meeting with my brother. She never even picked up her last check. Something was wrong.

Her husband said she just walked out. But we knew better. Her car was in the driveway, and even more importantly, she never would have left her kids. Never.

Knowing who God is has gotten me through the terror since those days:

God is all-knowing. He's a God of comfort. He understands. Although we are surprised by the events that fall into our lives, God is never thrown off-balance. He knows everything, including what happened to my sister that night. Nothing escapes God.

Years passed, but we reconnected with Peggy's sons.

For years we weren't allowed to see my sister's sons, but when they got older we saw them at a wedding. I'll never forget when Bobby nonchalantly asked, "Has anyone seen my mom?"

His words shocked us. "Bobby, we don't believe she's alive," I said in the softest tone possible.

Now it was his turn to be surprised. After talking, we learned the boys were told their mother had left them. This opened our lines of communication. God brought a private investigator into our lives who shared vital information with us, guiding us every step of the way. Within a year, Peggy's missing person case was reopened as a possible homicide.

In 2004, we were told we would finally have our day in court. That court experience was excruciating. I remember one day in particular when the television monitors were turned toward us as we watched a video of Peggy's home. It was as if we were walking in the front door, and I kept waiting for her to show up. Leaning over to my brother I whispered, "George, I can't handle this." His look told me he'd pray.

Her two sons took the stand describing what it was like in their house leading up to that fateful night.

Her son, Bobby, testified that he saw his mother pinned down and beaten. He remembered seeing blood. Afterwards the boys were taken on a bike ride and upon their return they were told not to wake their mother. They never saw her again.

"It was the first time she didn't kiss us goodnight," Drew recalled.

Each day after court, we dragged ourselves to our respective rooms only to wake up and do it all over again. Foolishly I had thought knowing more would lessen my pain; I was so wrong. With each new piece of information, I felt worse.

God is present even in our fear and disappointment.

Just moments before my testimony, I sat in an empty room waiting for my turn. I prayed, "God, help me." And in that stark, colorless room I felt God's presence and began singing. I wasn't alone, just as Peggy hadn't been alone.

Testifying was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Looking at photographs of my nephews, which Peggy had sent me, I was asked how I obtained them and to identify each picture. I trembled as I held those precious pictures. When I was asked to point to the accused, I didn't want to look at him.

My heart beat rapidly, but just a few questions later my part was completed, and I was asked to step down. I wondered if I could even walk.

Finally after 10 days of endless testimonies, things drew to a close. You could hear a pin drop in the courtroom as we waited to hear the verdict. Hearing the words, "not guilty," we froze. People on the other side of the courtroom cheered, giving each other high fives. We just sat there, stunned.

God did not abandon us.

When there is a conviction in a murder trial, a family member is given the opportunity to share publicly how the murder impacted his or her life. But without a conviction, there is no opportunity; it's as if it didn't happen. On that day, Peggy Dianovsky was declared dead, as the result of a crime. However, the judge did not feel there was sufficient evidence to prove the accused guilty.

I was tormented thinking about my sister's life and what she must have endured those last few hours, until God assured me, "Anne, I was with her."

God comforted me as no one else could, and he is restoring the years the locusts have eaten (Joel 2:25). We are reunited with her boys again. While we can't control many of our circumstances, we can control how we respond to them.

God is all-knowing; he comforts; he understands.

Today when I hear about someone who is missing, my heart resonates with the family. It is hard enough losing a loved one, but when it's a tragic death, our grieving is complicated. I tried attending grief groups but quickly realized it was hard for some people to hear my story. Finally I found a homicide group that understood. I found myself comfortable with this group of strangers. We had all become members of a club we never asked to join. We would cry, listen, and just be there for each other.

I've often asked God why this had to happen to Peggy. Once I yelled, "God, do you know how I feel? My sister was killed."

And in the quiet of that moment I could almost picture him nodding his head. It was true. The God of the universe really did understand how I felt. He understood because he, too, had lost a loved one to murder—his Son.

God is all-knowing; he comforts; he understands.

Anne Peterson is a poet, speaker, and author of over 42 published Bible studies. You can learn more about her at www.annepeterson.com.