Saturday, June 25, 2005
Paul
He was in second year university and school had begun a few short weeks earlier. It was the weekend, and they wanted to go to town for the evening. He drove a couple girls and spent time with them, laughing together. One of them was Candice, a freshman.
On the way back from down after dark, they laughed some more. The train drove beside them, and they paced with it. Approaching the dangerous S-curve just before the university entrance Paul accelerated. Perhaps not lots, but enough to beat the train so that they didn't have to stop and wait for it to cross the road when so close to their destination. His car slid on the tracks and stalled. He tried frantically to restart it, but time was running out. He shouted for his friends to get out of the car, and they scrambled. It was difficult for the girls in the back to get out of the vehicle, and the train headlights had borne down upon them. One girl got away clear. Paul knew he could do nothing to help. He jumped away from the car just before impact; his leg got hit with part of the metal.
Julie had arrived on campus a couple weeks before. It was her first time away from home, and in another province. Her family lived in Saskatchewan. In the panic she fought to get away from disaster. She pressed off the back seat and got out of the vehicle just as the train's momentum and strength descended on that tragic portion of track. She was on the pavement just outside the car door when the collision took her away. Yes, it's a true story.
When Julie's parents came to get her, they met Paul. It was gut wrenching for him. They told him they weren't angry at him...they forgave him. It was in God's hands. They showed him Christ.
A year later Paul had undergone surgery and much therapy for his ankle. He was being prosecuted for manslaughter. Things were dim. He was suicidal. He was unable to forgive. Not the traindriver for failure to stop more quickly. Not the friends for not discouraging him from racing the train. Himself. He had been forgiven by the family who was permanently changed by that moment of wrong decision, yet he couldn't forgive himself. He chose to carry that burden for them, even if they wouldn't join him.
I don't know how Paul is now. A few years ago I saw him and life had a semblance of normalcy. He was married, and employed as a psychologist. To see him you would never know the burden he carried for those years.
This makes my fried hair tale of 1986 so trivial. The scale of injustice seems to be less than zero in comparison with Julie's story. Where does yours seem on the scale? And really...does it matter?
What burdens do your past carry? Affairs, pregnancy outside of marriage, addiction, gossip, malice, stealing, betrayal? Sometimes we can't see the other people involved to hear that they forgive us. Maybe they still hold it against us. Maybe there's something we hold against them. It's outside our ability to change their response. It's only possible to change ours.
Paul needed to forgive himself. It was a mistake. We all make them.
On the way back from down after dark, they laughed some more. The train drove beside them, and they paced with it. Approaching the dangerous S-curve just before the university entrance Paul accelerated. Perhaps not lots, but enough to beat the train so that they didn't have to stop and wait for it to cross the road when so close to their destination. His car slid on the tracks and stalled. He tried frantically to restart it, but time was running out. He shouted for his friends to get out of the car, and they scrambled. It was difficult for the girls in the back to get out of the vehicle, and the train headlights had borne down upon them. One girl got away clear. Paul knew he could do nothing to help. He jumped away from the car just before impact; his leg got hit with part of the metal.
Julie had arrived on campus a couple weeks before. It was her first time away from home, and in another province. Her family lived in Saskatchewan. In the panic she fought to get away from disaster. She pressed off the back seat and got out of the vehicle just as the train's momentum and strength descended on that tragic portion of track. She was on the pavement just outside the car door when the collision took her away. Yes, it's a true story.
When Julie's parents came to get her, they met Paul. It was gut wrenching for him. They told him they weren't angry at him...they forgave him. It was in God's hands. They showed him Christ.
A year later Paul had undergone surgery and much therapy for his ankle. He was being prosecuted for manslaughter. Things were dim. He was suicidal. He was unable to forgive. Not the traindriver for failure to stop more quickly. Not the friends for not discouraging him from racing the train. Himself. He had been forgiven by the family who was permanently changed by that moment of wrong decision, yet he couldn't forgive himself. He chose to carry that burden for them, even if they wouldn't join him.
I don't know how Paul is now. A few years ago I saw him and life had a semblance of normalcy. He was married, and employed as a psychologist. To see him you would never know the burden he carried for those years.
This makes my fried hair tale of 1986 so trivial. The scale of injustice seems to be less than zero in comparison with Julie's story. Where does yours seem on the scale? And really...does it matter?
What burdens do your past carry? Affairs, pregnancy outside of marriage, addiction, gossip, malice, stealing, betrayal? Sometimes we can't see the other people involved to hear that they forgive us. Maybe they still hold it against us. Maybe there's something we hold against them. It's outside our ability to change their response. It's only possible to change ours.
Paul needed to forgive himself. It was a mistake. We all make them.
// posted by Annette @ 9:09 a.m. 