Consumed By Hatred
May 5th, 2010 was probably the worst day of my life.
It started out like a regular day, it was Wednesday, I went to work, had meetings, usual stuff. Eddie, my husband, called that afternoon at about 2:00 as he was getting off work. He said he was going home to change clothes and then going up to our land in Cannon County to see about his cows. That was the last time I ever spoke to him. It was getting late, I had already fed all the farm animals at our house and the sun was setting. It wasn’t like Eddie not to have called. I called his phone a few times and no answer, then I started getting a feeling in the pit of my gut. I just knew something was wrong. It took some calling around but I managed to find out that Eddie had been in a wreck. When I called our neighbor to the farm I just remember her saying “Oh honey…. Why hasn’t anyone called you….” And my world started spinning out of control. My Eddie had been hit head on by an impaired driver at 2:45 in the afternoon on Wednesday, May 5th, 2010 and I would never talk to him again.
As difficult as that day was, I can say that it didn’t get any easier. A long and grueling process of court dates, delays and diversions by the impaired driver went on for many months. I will say that I was consumed by hatred for that person. I was so consumed by grief for my lost husband that some days I don’t think I could put together a coherent sentence. I had my two young adult sons that were still living at home, my oldest (I believe) struggled to become the man of the house and be strong by my side as we went through agonizing court date after date. My youngest son (I believe) was emotionally paralyzed by the grief and retreated in his own way. Everything. Was. HARD. And I hated the man that took my husband’s life.
As it became apparent that I was not functioning I sought counseling through my church. One of the pastors had his office at the counseling center and he shared his almost decade-long journey toward forgiveness. I remember him telling me that it was a process that I would have to work through. I struggled GREATLY with God in this process. At first, I wanted to convince God that He had made a mistake. I remember going into my barn with my goats on Christmas Eve and praying on my knees and begging Him to let me wake up Christmas morning and it would have all been a bad dream. And God would simply, gently, let me know that He did not make mistakes. As time went on God would gently lay it on my heart that I had to forgive. I say gently… but I will tell you… in my humble opinion, God can be a bit of a nag. I would push the nudging of forgiveness aside… “I can’t God!!!” then something would come on the radio.. or I would read the new bestselling book “The Shack”… and I would wail at God… “But he has never said he was sorry God!!!” And gently, but persistently (Thank you Lord for being so persistent with me) He continually laid it on my heart… “you MUST forgive him, this is for YOU, my daughter”.
Years have gone by. Seven years, eight months, and twenty-five days. As the pastor told me, it is a process. This last summer, on June 20, 2017, I went to a second parole hearing for the man that killed my husband. I read my statement, that I did not feel like he had served enough time. And, as I came to the end of my statement, I told the parole board officer that I had one more thing I wanted to say. “Ma’am, you’ve already gone over your time.” he said. “I know, and I’m sorry, but this is important.” I told the parole board officer. My hands were trembling, my voice was shaking. “I forgive you” I said, “I release my hatred for you and I lay it at the feet of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, as a precious sacrifice. I release you to God.” I said it. And I meant it. I don’t think I am through having to forgive that man. I’m pretty sure that there will be times that I will have to make a conscious decision to lay my hatred at His feet again. He will remind me, I’m sure. And I hope, as I hoped at that parole hearing, that God will see me and smile.
