In the newspaper today, there was a story about a crime victim who had taken her own road to reconciling the wrong that had been committed against her and the young man who perpetrated it. It is the lesson of an open heart and all that comes from forgiving.
Two years ago Thanksgiving, a woman driving on a local highway fell into the path of a car full of bored teenagers on a low activity night. As a prank, one of them threw a frozen turkey out the window that smashed into the woman’s front windshield, shattering her face. The teens were all up on charges with varying punishments, but the young man who threw the projectile was looking at 25 years. In an act that surprised all concerned, the victim asked the court for leniency on his behalf, believing that a young person’s life should not be defined by one tragic choice, even as her face would forever bear witness.
The teen served his 6-month sentence and is now doing community service. And so is the victim. She tours schools and speaks to the newly formed student clubs, Students Against Destructive Decisions, as an example and an inspiration. All the laws and powers of a justice system pale in the face of an act that can only be called spiritual.
Which brings us to the Amish. Mark Twain once said, “Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.” The wave of sadness, awe and ultimate respect the nation felt after the tragedy at Nickel Mines is testament to the power of goodness in its purest form. But how do we get there?
On a good day, the most forgiving we have to be is for the elderly driver who cuts us off twice as we enter the parkway. But, oh the bad day. When achieving acceptance is the farthest we can go and actual forgiveness seems to slip through our fingers like sand. A Wise Man I once wailed to about a personal betrayal smiled at me and replied, “And who ever said you were exempt from getting screwed?”
We really are all a neighborhood. We know that bad things happen to good people. We keep our eyes open. Do we keep our hearts open? The best neighborhoods are filled with people who look out for one another as well as themselves. I believe this is called humanity. Or, maybe, salvation. If it were a sound, it would be Ray Charles. If it were a taste, it would be hot chocolate on a freezing day. And if it were a scent, it would be violets.