October 2, 2007 

If there was ever a day when I wanted to see justice served, today was the day…

For the first time in sixteen months, I got angry. I have not experienced anger throughout this entire grief process. I have been told that it would come, in time, but I didn’t believe it would happen to me. I am just not angered easily; it’s not part of my nature, well, it wasn’t… but I am experiencing something different today. It’s the closest thing I know to anger, mingled with resentment and sadness. Perhaps this is the change in the air that I sensed was imminent from my last writing…

Today a Denver ruling sent me into a tailspin. If you follow the local news at all, you must know the story. But on some level, it is my story, too, because it hits so close to home. One of the major differences is that this one saw justice play out in a court of law; but my claims were never heard by the courts because they were never filed.

The women who crossed into our lane of traffic and plowed her truck into our Subaru on March 26, 2006 was never cited at the scene. No ticket. No summons. No ramifications for her actions. Two lives ended that day and one was irreversibly transformed. She cheated me out of my family, my health, my hopes and dreams, my sense of reason… she didn’t rob me of my faith, but essentially, all that I valued was stripped away in an instant. And she walked away unscathed.

Life is unjust, but we serve a just God. I am conflicted from the inside out.

I know we are instructed to act mercifully, to turn the other cheek, to not judge ‘lest we be judged, to show kindness to strangers, to forgive… but today, I can’t find it in me to do it. Today, I want her to live with my heartache, if just for a moment. I want her to feel the deep sense of loss that I feel every day. I want her to have sleepless nights and pace the floors in an attempt to expend excess nervous energy. I want her to have the daily dilemma of learning how to live again, how to breathe again. I want her to experience the emptiness, the sorrow, the suffering.

Until now, I believed that I had grieved in a Godly way. I was convinced that I should not write these thoughts; that it would absolutely abolish my faith-based testimony. But I have said all along that I want to be authentic. I want to demonstrate my sincerity about pursuing Christ in all things, through my actions and my words. And while God continues to work in my heart and teach me His wisdom for living, I recognize that I am utterly flawed and I will be the first to admit that I certainly have not perfected this process of grieving.

Editing my anger from these pages felt cowardly and deceitful. Sharing it exposes my vulnerability and my humanity.  I am compelled to disclose the darkness in my heart because I know it’s there and I want Him to shed His light in the deep crevasses of my soul. I also want you to see the human side of me, the real me. I want you to know the struggle that I am facing today. No pretenses. No dramatics.

But I’m in trouble. I need your prayers. I am asking the Lord for guidance and pleading for help as I grapple with these new, wayward emotions. I do not want the anger to last and I do not want a root of bitterness to spring-up and choke out the goodness in my heart.

In my current study of the book of James, select verses talk of extending mercy to those that have wronged you.  James 2:12-13 says, “Talk and act like a person expecting to be judged by the Rule that sets us free. For if you refuse to act kindly, you can hardly expect to be treated kindly. Kind mercy wins over harsh judgment every time.”

I desperately want to put that into practice, but today, I just don’t know how.  

October 8, 2007

Over the course of the last several days, as I have meditated on these things, I have continued to wrestle with my thoughts and feelings, still convinced I should not post last week’s entry.

I talked with God. I called my counselor. I rationalized my anger with my sister. I prayed with my Women’s Bible Study group, after a lengthy discussion on what constitutes righteous anger. And I even discussed it with my attorney. Then on Friday, on a shuttle ride over a shared burrito, I confessed my self-serving anger, my twinge of jealousy, and the inequity of it all to my friend and ally. While I was still trying to sort it all out in my head, I decided that I must contact her, the only other survivor of that car crash.

I am praying about that possibility even now…

October 16, 2007

It has taken me fourteen days to get to this point of confrontation and retribution. Fourteen days since I initially confessed my anger and began consoling this polar sentiment. I had prayed specifically for a sign, that I would know precisely the right time to contact my “nameless nemesis” who inflicted such harm sixteen months ago. The sign came today.

It was completely unexpected: a phone call from John, a long-time friend. There was no small talk. No idle chatter. He launched right into sharing a passage of scripture with me; one he said God had placed on his heart just for me. He quoted from Psalm 26 and emphasized the word ‘publish’ in his reading.  “I will wash my hands in innocence; so I will go about Your alter, O Lord, that I may proclaim (publish) with the voice of thanksgiving, and tell of all Your wondrous works.”

John was unaware of what I was battling. The lingering anger. The reckless behavior. The suffocating guilt. The debilitating fear. The gripping trepidation of publishing my views for public scrutiny. The self-perception that I had disqualified myself from being a spokesperson for Christ. The prevailing feeling of unworthiness, yet wanting desperately to make it right again.

John was also unaware that I had just cancelled a speaking engagement. I had clear direction from God to do so but considered following through with it in my own strength, despite His divine prodding to withdraw gracefully. News of the icy road conditions sealed the decision to not make the four-hour trek to Steamboat and speak. And I thought, ‘My integrity is shot!’ I felt like a failure for not upholding my obligation. I could hear Shane’s voice in my head saying, “Your word is your bond… Keep your commitments… It is better not to vow than to vow and break it.”  Yet, because of my unforgiving spirit and my wretched conduct over the last two weeks, I could not rightfully enter the alter and proclaim with the voice of thanksgiving about the wondrous works of God in my own life. That verse was precisely what I was praying for…

I hung up the phone with John, immediately called in prayer reinforcement, and proceeded to dial Diane, the driver of the other vehicle. 

We talked for well over an hour. I sensed instantly that she was sorrowful and still grieve-struck. I think that is what I needed to hear. And my heart softened. I listened intently to her as she described the accident that day and what she has experienced every day since then.

She explained that she has also wrestled with God, and has asked Him, “Why did You devastate that family? Why didn’t You just take me? Why did You have to cause them so much pain?” She said she remembers asking God over and over again for the answers to those questions. Then she explained that one day she heard His voice, gentle yet chastising, say to her ‘thine harvest would not have been as great…’

Diane confessed that she would have gladly traded places with Shane and Ellie. She said she wanted to put her truck in the ditch when she saw our car appear out of the snow. She talked about the road conditions that day and about the events afterwards. Many of those details I had never heard before. It was good to see it from her perspective and I understood that there is more to the story, a whole other side to things.

I was surprised to learn that she logs onto her computer day by day and checks these pages for comfort and to connect. In almost a whisper, she said she prays for me daily. I was also startled to hear that she has visited the crash site numerous times and that she has even made several trips to Whaley Cemetery where Shane and Ellie (and little Caleb) are buried.

We cried together. And we bonded.  I realized then that I don’t want Diane to suffer unduly. She is battling her own pain and sorrow. We declared that we would continue the discussion and work through the grief together. At some point, I believe Diane and I will meet face to face. What a transformation from fourteen days ago!

There is only One I know who could purge my cold heart,  bring healing and restoration, and usher in complete forgiveness. His name is Jesus and He has modeled that forgiveness for us so that we can extend it to others and live in His abundant grace, free from the shackles of anger and resentment, free from the bondage of guilt and shame.

The internal conflict has been resolved. It is finished. I made the choice today: I have really forgiven Diane and I want her to know and experience—not justice—but God’s mercy.