Forgiveness & Faith

I am so emotionally drained right now that this will probably not be some of my best writing. But I have to write this, and it has to be today. Because today I went to a memorial service that both shattered my heart and filled it. T was not someone I had the privilege to know very long, but I'm thankful that I knew him at all. Every morning when I would drop our boy off at preschool (usually late), T would be strolling out of the school smiling at us, always ready with a high five for my little guy, and always with a grin my way that said, "Yep, you're late again. But that's okay. No judgement here." He was by far the friendliest parent I met at the school, and he had such an easy and peaceful way about him.

When the school did a field trip to the movies last year, I brought my boy in and saw that all of the other kids were already paired up with one another. I sighed, a little sad, and committed to sitting with my guy alone, worried that he would feel shunned by his peers since he's just sitting with his boring old mom. And then I heard a voice behind me say, "This guy has been begging to sit next to your boy", and I turned to see T with his adorable son (who we will call "X").  And X and my little man sat next to each other for the movie belly laughing and cramming popcorn into their mouths, with T and I like bookends on either side of our excited, happy little men. We had such a good time. I was so touched by the friendship developing between X and my boy.

And then today I had to attend a memorial for X's dad, wondering the whole time what he must be thinking, how his little 4 year old brain must be processing all of this. I didn't know T well but the sheer sadness of the situation made me feel like I would snap in half. I felt foolish for how much I cried, considering how little I knew T. But still, I couldn't stop crying....for X losing a parent at such a tender age, for the violence in how T was prematurely snatched from this world (driveby shooting), for the sorrow I felt for T's wife in now facing the task of raising her two babies without her husband by her side.

So I sat there wallowing in my despair when one of T's female family members got up and gave a short speech. She carried herself with a strength and sureness the likes of which I have never seen in my 40+ years. And she talked about T and she talked about loss, and then she asked us....to forgive his shooter. I about fell out of my pew. What had she just said? Did this woman grieving her loved one just challenge me to forgive his killer? And then she drove the point home: "If you want to see T again, then you need to be like him. You need to be kind like he was, selfless like he was, and Christian. And that means to forgive. You need to forgive." I was in awe. I'd heard the stories of the Amish girls shot in the church in Lancaster, and their parents forgiving the shooter, to my shock and disbelief. I'd heard of the Charleston church shooting that resulted in the victims' relatives offering up forgiveness for the heinous act. But I had never seen forgiveness - not forgiveness like this in person - until today. That woman was a force to be reckoned with. And she was the type of Christian that makes me proud, the type who walks the walk. The type who *gets* what Jesus was preaching and follows it.

I can only dream of ever reaching that level of faith. I admit I am still mired by anger and I would like to beat the killer to a bloody pulp right now, if I had the chance. And this is me, someone who didn't even know T that well. But when I think about what that cowardly shooter has done to that family, I feel the rage inside me boil over. But I can't think like that. I need to heed that woman's advice and let it sink its hooks into me. I need to forgive.

I was doing a virtual spin class last week and the narrator said something towards the end that struck me: "You're going home." I was moved by that because it made me feel empowered to leave my baggage behind and look forward to my husband and son, my home. And to look forward to my eternal home one day, when I'm called there by God. (Hopefully, he'll let me stay with him.) So T, you are home. I know you are good because you're with our maker, and you've found true peace. And I will do my best to help your family through this time.