I leaped at the shrill ringing of the phone. At the other end I could hear my mother's Finnish accent in a voice that sounded much too small. "How was the doctor's appointment?" I asked, reaching toward the stereo to turn the volume down.

"Not good," she said. "Not good." I pressed the cold phone to my ear and listened as she told me that the doctor had found cancer metastasis in her liver-which was now twice its normal size and barely functioning. She talked resolutely about making changes in her diet. What changes? I thought in panic. How can she eat any healthier?

For an hour we talked-my mom and I. We talked about cancer and faith and miracles, but never death. Anything but death. How much longer? I silently wondered, but I was unable to form the question. Ten years? Five years? One year? She must have been wondering too. But we were both spared the knowledge that it would be only six more weeks.

For the next couple of days I would see vibrant old women everywhere I went-on the bus, in the grocery store, at the park. I would find myself gazing at them and wondering at their radiant health. Do they realize how lucky they are to be alive? To see children married and grandbabies born? The jokes about my mother's grandpuppies and grandplants no longer seemed funny.

At night I would lie in bed too spent to pray. God would have to commune with me in silence. But I knew that many more were putting my thoughts into prayer. Around the world people were praying for a miracle-pastors, missionaries, new Christians, prayer warriors, family members, friends, friends of friends, children, even unbelievers lifted my mother's name in prayer.

But most of all, my mother was praying for a miracle. "It's never too late for God," she would tell me. Oh, how she wanted to live!

At her anointing service she encouraged the congregation. "The time of miracles has fortunately not passed," she told them. "When Jesus walked on this earth, He mostly healed and gave life, He didn't even ask if the sick ones understood the prophecies or lived according to some creed. Christ will accept me today, warts and all, and cover my sins with His precious blood so I'm perfect through Him, not a thread of human works thrown in. His grace is sufficient for you and me.

"My favorite Bible text is Jeremiah 32:17," she continued, flashing the audience her famous smile. "I read it several times a day, especially when I'm having a dark tunnel experience. It says, 'Ah Lord God! Behold, You have made the heavens and the earth by Your great power and by Your outstretched arm! Nothing is too difficult for You'" (NASB).

WEB SITES That Offer Grief Counseling Help and Other Services The following listings are just a few online resources available to those who have lost loved ones to cancer and/or other illnesses. In addition to these and many other services available on the World Wide Web, most hospitals and colleges (including the majority of Seventh-day Adventist institutions) offer assistance to young adults grieving the death of a friend, parent, sibling, or other relative. Cancer Care and Counseling American Cancer Society: www3.cancer.org National Institutes of Health's CancerNet: cancernet.nci.nih.gov New York Online Access to Health (in English and Spanish): www.noah-health.org National Alliance of Breast Cancer Organizations: www.nabco.org University of Pennsylvania OncoLink: www.oncolink.com Money, information and services for psychological issues: www.lesko.com/help/ MentalHealthHelp.htm Grief Counseling and Education Counselors and help listed by state for the Seventh-day Adventist Church in North America: family.nadadventist.org/ counselors.html Health and social services directory that lists a variety of agencies for grief counseling and other concerns: www.rollanet.org/health/ nwhlth.html Books and educational materials www.tagnet.org/wash/ resources/books.html

The miracle, however, would never come. At some point my mother must have realized this, but her faith never wavered. "Praise God," she said when the birds sang outside her bedroom window. "Praise God," she murmured after my father helped her take a shower. "Praise God," she whispered, though the wind blew cold and hope vanished.

"He's so good," she told me. Her attempts at smiling broke my heart. She looked so little-was so little. Striped pajamas hung on her malnourished frame. The cancer had eaten away everything except this astonishing, faith-filled spirit.

But that wasn't enough. The cancer wasn't satisfied. Satan flexed his muscle and taunted that he was yet ruler of this earth. For even in dying, there would be no mercy. Though my mother was racked by pain, the morphine would never arrive. "Lord, be merciful," she whispered.

"The morphine is on its way," my aunt comforted. And indeed the hospice nurse promised that it was. But first the morphine was delayed, and then the courier got lost. "Oh help, oh help, oh help, oh help," my mother moaned as minutes, and then hours, ticked by. Her eyes were closed and her arms outstretched. At 1:40 p.m. blood began to gurgle, then gush, out of her mouth. One more breath, and then she was dead.

It was Mother's Day. The cards my sister and I were planning to give her lay on my bedroom dresser. Her walking shoes waited by the front door. Her jackets hung in the closet. Her book, half read, sat on the coffee table. Her wedding band lay in a box inside her small writing desk. A hundred things left undone. A hundred things left unsaid.

"Why?" I cried, my face contorted in agony. "Why couldn't there have been a miracle? Why couldn't she have lived longer than six weeks? Why didn't she live past Mother's Day? Why couldn't You have at least spared her the pain?

"If nothing is too difficult for You, why didn't You do it?" The accusation hung between us. Cold and joyless. Cold and joyless was how I saw my life stretched before me.

Late that night my father prayed. "Lord, You understand what it's like to see someone You love be tortured and then die. You understand what it's like to be helpless in the face of unbearable agony."

Yes, I thought wearily. God understands. God truly understands. He could have stopped His Son's suffering. But He didn't-praise God, He didn't. If He had, there truly would have been no more hope for humanity.

A Clarity of Faith
In the weeks since my mother's death I have been haunted by the melody sung by Faith First. The powerful words of "Where There Is Faith" speak to my heart:

"There is a peace like a child sleeping;
. . . hope everlasting in He who is able to
Bear every burden, to heal
every hurt in my heart."

Where there is faith, Satan will not have the final say! God could have healed my mother. God could have helped her live longer. God could have eased her suffering. And I still don't know why He didn't. But I do know that suffering has nothing to do with having faith.

One of my favorite Bible verses is Romans 8:28: "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose."

When I was little I thought it meant that life would always be easy.
I thought that the skies would stay blue and that flowers would remain beautiful. Tears would be reserved for baptisms, graduations, and weddings. Life would be good because I loved God.

I see it much differently now. Cancer is not good. It wasn't good for my family. It isn't good for hundreds and thousands of families who lose loved ones to it. There is nothing good about cancer.

But God promises that ultimately everything will work together for good. I can almost hear Him say, "Hang in there, Sari. Your mom loved Me. And ultimately things will turn out well for her. I will wipe away every tear from her eyes and she will laugh again. In heaven she will be able to romp and play with those grandkids she never saw (if you have them). In fact, she will be filled with a joy that you can not even imagine now."
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* "Where There Is Faith," words and music by Billy Simon, 1989, River Oaks Music Company.

Postscript: Fordham's mother, Kaarina Fordham, died on May 14, 2000. Kaarina Fordham loved the Lord and served Him well as a pastor's wife and as a teacher. Together with her husband, Gary, and their two small children she courageously followed God's call to the mission field at a time of political turmoil. They served in Uganda for six years and Kenya for three. Memories of Kaarina will be cherished by her husband, her two daughters, her siblings, her father, her students, and her many friends.

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Sari Fordham was studying for a master's degree in English at Iowa State University when she wrote this article. She is currently teaching at a university in South Korea.