BY GEMMA CABARDO ANDERSON

HE NEWS DEVASTATED ME. FOR THE second time in one year, my husband had walked into our house in the middle of the day with a sullen look on his face that told it all. There was another downsizing at his place of employment, and his job was among those to go.

My first reaction was to talk to God about it. We'd had a similar conversation about nine months before when the first layoff happened. At that time it seemed like a one-way conversation coming from one frustrated housewife to a God who was too busy to listen.

Apparently He did have me on His agenda, however, because three weeks later my husband accepted a job offer with a sizable room for advancement. What an incredible answer to prayer!

However, here we were again, faced with the problem of unemployment. And once again I was in my bedroom hiding away from my family, with a pit in my stomach the size of my house mortgage, praying the same desperate prayer. "Not again, Lord. How much more of this can I take? I know there are people out there with worse problems than I have, but right now this is too hard to take! This is so unfair! Lord, how are we going to pay the bills and keep our house, my beautiful house? We're already in trouble from the first layoff."

Despite the Lord's generous track record with me, I settled into a state of discontent. Discontent bred self-pity and worry; and self-pity and worry began to work its evil, systemic effects on me. My state of being was similar to that mentioned in Psalm 102:3, 4: "My days disappear like smoke, and my bones burn like red-hot coals. My heart is sick, withered like grass" (NLT). My problems overwhelmed me, and I became physically tired and sick; I was headed for full-blown poisoning of my bone marrow.

Then it happened. The news devastated me; a young friend was dying of cancer. By the time it was detected, the cancer had spread to his spine, hips, and legs. The bones, as well. The doctors gave him four months--if he was lucky.

Here was someone with a problem worse than mine.

Was It a Miracle?
I will never forget the day we first saw each other after I'd heard the news. My face was tired and stricken; his face was radiant. I was shortsighted; he was farsighted. I was beaten; he was triumphant.

Did God perform a miracle? What my friend shared with me was a miracle--though not the one I'd prayed for. It was the miracle of peace that goes beyond all understanding.

He'd gone through periods of numbing disbelief and denial to excruciating grief. He'd experienced long sleepless nights of uncontrollable weeping, with a pit in his stomach the size of--death. He called out to God, who seemed too busy to listen.

Apparently God had him on His agenda, because it was at this time that he finally felt the gentle hands of Jesus healing his sick, tired heart, cradling it ever so sweetly, and sweeping the waves of peace--sweet peace--over his soul.

His sights became fixed toward heaven for the hope that was meant to be. How wonderful it would be if he received immediate restoration of his stricken body from the effects of cancer--that would be a triumph; or if he went on to sleep in Jesus--that would be a triumph. Cancer. His bones had it, but his heart did not.

For my part, my heart was sick--and so were my bones. Proverbs 17:22 says, "A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones." I venture to say that a peaceful heart is a merry heart. I had allowed the state of financial instability to envelop me. Self-pity and worry sealed away and took from me the peace that goes beyond all understanding. I cried to God for relief, but did not surrender my will to His. I had set my sights on earthly things: my house, my beautiful house--mere sticks and stones--could break my bones, from the worry of losing it.

To See Beyond the Gloom
When we're faced with the inevitability of death, the grief we experience is real; it is a normal and expected reaction. When we're faced with financial instability, the grief we experience is real; it's a normal and expected reaction. It's normal to focus on ourselves and our immediate needs so we can respond accordingly.

There are stages of grief that we must go through, and each of us moves through these stages at different time frames; this also is normal and expected. The key is to move through it and not lose sight of the One who gives us peace while we're in it. I set my sights toward heaven, where my eternal treasures lie; the promised treasures of incorruptible bodies, and houses made of better material than sticks and stones.

When I'm overcome with the trials of this world--and these times are certain--I remember the words of the apostle Paul in Philippians 4:6, 7, "Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. If you do this, you will experience God's peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus" (NLT).

This peace enables us to overcome discontent, self-pity, and worry. My friend has this peace; you and I can have it, too. When we surrender all to Jesus, He has promised to turn our sorrow into joy and sweep over us the peace that goes beyond all understanding.

Postscript
My friend passed away last summer; and my family and I keep in contact with his sweet wife and children.

His wife told me that during his closing hours, he would gaze out the picture window and comment on the beauty and the wonders of creation and, most important, on how awesome and great his Creator was to him. She stated that although her husband was the one who was physically failing, he ministered to his whole family, friends, and community through his unfailing childlike faith, and his belief that either way--life or death--he would still be triumphant in Jesus Christ. He encouraged them to keep focused on the eternal prize. His family are strengthened daily with the memories of how he lived his life.

Meanwhile, we're still in our beautiful house of "sticks and stones." I recommit my belongings and life to God every day. I'm thankful and treasure all my blessings, aware that all we have can be gone at a moment's notice. Daily I pray for His peace, so that come what may, I can be triumphant in Jesus Christ.

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A homeschooling mother of two, Gemma Cabardo Anderson writes from her home in Bolingbrook, Illinois.