...The voice belonged to my mother, who was furious—again—at my grandmother for something. Or nothing. Still, I adored my mother. She was beautiful, and she sparkled when she laughed. I hovered at the periphery of her fascinating charm. On the rare occasions she was home she slept, often all day. My grandmother kept my brother and me far away from the bedroom with many admonitions to "Not. Wake. Your. Mother." Ah, yes. Grandma. Synonym for security. Years passed before I understood all she had borne to shelter us in her love. She never said a word to us against our mother.

When I was six, I received what I was sure was the answer to my earnest nightly prayers for a daddy. My mother married a quiet man, unused to children but always kind to me and my brother. It seemed that my dream of a mother, father, and a happy family was finally going to become reality. A few months into the marriage, this dream was shattered the night I stood in the doorway and watched my frenzied mother break an end table over my new daddy's head.

When I was twelve, another stepfather walked in the door, literally. He was already married to my mother by the time I met him. Within two weeks I was packed up and bundled off to live in another house in another city with a stranger who had three of his own kids. There was barely enough time to say good-bye to Grandma. In the nights my throat would ache as I thought about my grandmother left alone. I would picture her house and every article of furniture. This all had to be hidden, of course, because I knew that my mother was desperately trying to make us all one happy family, and I sure didn't want to be the one to spoil things. In this marriage the violence was two-sided. After my mom suffered a broken ankle and after countless gut-wrenching arguments, some of which lasted days, the end came. I came home from school one day to discover all of the furniture gone, courtesy of stepdad. Poor Mom. Poor all of us. Life was out of control, full of erratic turns that all led to deeper and more intense misery. Nothing was sure. Nothing was constant or dependable. There was no peace. Serenity was not a word in my vocabulary.

Stepdad number three came when I was sixteen. I attended the Las Vegas ceremony in a detached kind of way. He was very kind, very nice to me, and very alcoholic. So was my mother, but I had only realized it in the last year or two. This time things weren't as bad. At least the arguments were one-sided. No matter how many cruel words were thrown at him, this man just wouldn't expend the energy to fight back. One angry voice was a lot better than two.

In high school I met a caring, considerate boy who, when I was eighteen, became my husband. I was away at last and was determined to have my own happy, peaceful family. I thought you could do that—just plan a happy and peaceful family and then make it happen. But even though the outward things were in place, something was missing. Something big. Something essential. What it was, I had no idea.

One day, after two years of marriage, my husband came to me and said that something had happened to him. He loved Jesus! This was news to me, because the boy I had married was definitely not religious. I thought it was a joke, because he was a very funny guy. But no, he was serious. He began to tell me how real the Lord Jesus was, and that he had met Him personally. I listened with open-mouthed astonishment mixed with horror. My response was a resounding rejection, culminating in our separation. Now I was alone with our baby daughter—no husband, and no happy family. No happy anything.

For weeks my husband called me constantly, trying to talk to me or invite me to dinner with some of his new friends. For weeks I refused. Eventually, the day came when I said yes to the dinner invitation. The home that we went to was, well, peaceful. As I was sitting in the living room of the young host couple, the husband walked in and sank into a chair with a sigh. Although obviously tired from the day's work, he said to my husband, "Boy, did I enjoy the Lord today!" I don't know if the shock could be seen on my face, but I sure wasn't expecting to hear the words enjoy and Lord together. "Whaaaat? Enjoy the Lord?" raced through my head. Again I thought, "Did he say, 'enjoy the Lord?'"

After dinner I spent the next hour and a half listening to people of different ages and nationalities speak of their "enjoyment" and "experience" of Christ. When the evening ended, a few of the people there came to talk with me, and one of them suggested that we all "call on the Lord." "Okay," I murmured, and waited for The Prayer. The formal kind. Instead I heard voices softly calling, "O Lord Jesus! O Lord Jesus!" I sat silent, unable to join in. It was so—intimate, somehow, so personal. When they stopped, a person beside me leaned over and said gently, "Let's try it again, shall we?" I nodded and this time closed my eyes and began to call with them. "O Lord Jesus. O Lord Jesus. O Lord Jesus." As I called, something began to stir within me. The stirring radiated, bloomed, filling an awful emptiness that I had never been able to identify. I lifted my head and looked at these people with their faces full of love and happiness for me. For the first time in my life, pure joy flashed through me. My mouth stretched into what soon became a face-aching smile. Riding home in the car, I sat next to my husband, unable to stop smiling in the darkness. My husband said to me softly, "Well, you've always wanted a big happy family, haven't you?"

Yes, I had always wanted a big happy family, one filled with peace. Only I understood now that peace was not a controlled temper or the absence of alcohol. Peace was a Person. And I had just met Him.

D.B., Georgia

If you want to receive Christ as peace, simply pray the following prayer with a sincere heart:

"Lord Jesus, I do not want to live without peace any longer. I confess that I am unrighteous. Thank You for dying for me that I could be forgiven of my unrighteousness. Lord Jesus, come into my spirit and fill me with Yourself as peace. I receive You as peace. Thank You, Lord Jesus, that You have come into me!"