September 12th was an anniversary date. Actually, two dates in one.
Twenty-eight years ago on that date my sister Peggy Dianovsky disappeared. I was living in Colorado at the time and I received a letter saying the letter would shock me, she was getting a divorce. She was right, I was shocked. I dialed her number and picked it up and was upset.
“I can’t talk now, he’s harassing me again.”
I told her I would pray and hung up. Later that night she called back and talked for about 20 minutes and then told me she had to go, she didn’t want to run up the bill. So I called her back,
“Okay, it’s my dime, now talk.”
She talked for an hour and told me what she had been going through. She found out when she called the police he willingly left and she was relieved.
“I wish I would have done it sooner.”
We talked at length and hung up telling each other we’d talk again soon and that we loved each other.
We never spoke again. Two days after that call I received word that she had disappeared and no one knew where.
Five years ago her “missing person” case was changed to a possible homicide case. He husband was charged with her murder. A long ten days later we sat in a deathly quiet courtroom as the judge pronounced him,
We sat frozen watching her smiling husband receive high fives from family members.
That was one anniversary.
Thirty-eight years ago I got a ride home from a friend after a Bible study. I listened intently as this housewife shared why Jesus came to earth. On that rainy night on my way home I made a decision that would effect my eternity. I trusted Christ as my savior.
I have to say each September 12th these two events vie for my attention. For years I forgot about becoming a christian on that date and instead was overwhelmed by the events of my sister.
I am so thankful that my sister also knew the Lord. One day I will sit and we’ll talk non-stop like we used to.
Both of those events are important, but one outshines the other.
We don’t know where my sister’s body is. We may never know. But I know she is in heaven with our savior.
I don’t know all the details of what happened to her, but I know God was with her. He promises those who know him that he will never leave them or forsake them.
I remember one time when I was so distraught at what her last moments could have been like. It was in that darkness God whispered to me words that gave me hope.
“Anne, I was with her.”
I believe that with my whole heart.
It’s funny. Two anniversary dates and God was there for both of them.
Now I can look at September 12th differently. No longer do I have to dread it and try to make it through. I simply have to be still and remember that He is God.
About Anne Peterson
I write words you can feel, sometimes they rhyme. If I'm not writing, I'm telling stories from my head, to little ones who call me grandma.