The Letter

Forgiveness. What a crazy word.

I hear it thrown around all the time as if it is something easily obtainable. As if doing it is as easy as saying it.

“I forgive you.”

Like most things in my life, the more I think about it, the more confused I become. It’s difficult. It’s hard. It’s saying that I will no longer allow what you did to impact my life from this day on. I release you as my burden. But the truth is… it does still impact my life. It does still remain a burden.

I sometimes find it difficult to differentiate between forgiving and just not caring anymore. Knowing me and the way I operate, not caring about something is another form of avoidance. I avoid the pain by not caring and putting a pretty bow on it called forgiveness. True forgiveness would require me to take an extra step through the pain. A step that I would rather not endure if possible.

About ten years ago I was a juror in a murder trial.

Triple homicide. Three children were shot in the head while huddling in the corner on top of each other. As if protecting one another. I saw photos of their layered dead bodies surrounded by blood. Each photo taken from a different angle and distance. I heard the 911 tape of their mother screaming for help while the two murderers were trying to kill her. As I lived through each day of this trial, I heard and saw things that made me feel a level of emotion that I didn’t know existed. Those children. My God. Those sweet children. The mother survived the attack and as I watched her on the witness stand, I literally cried for her pain. I studied her eyes trying to comprehend what they had seen. Witnessed. The cold blooded murder of three of her four children.

The other jurors and I gave this murderer the death penalty. I was very pro capital punishment and walked away feeling like I had done my community a good service. I was mad knowing that this man had the option to appeal. My deep level of sadness and anger manifested itself into a need for bitter revenge. If someone had killed him right there in the court room… I felt it would be justified.

A few years later I was mindlessly flipping through the channels. I was halfway paying attention when I suddenly saw her face. The mother. I would recognize those eyes anywhere. One of the local stations was interviewing her about how she had forgiven these men who murdered her children. Forgiven them? But how? I saw graphic photos of what she experienced. I heard her screams. How can she forgive something – someone – so horrific?

I watched her eyes as I had done before. I listened to her words through my television. Her words were so honest and raw. Honorable. Moving. Poetic. I immediately gathered a piece of paper and pen and began writing her a letter expressing my respect. I admitted my confusion about her forgiveness, but my admiration of her decision. Within a few weeks I received a letter back from her. One that I did not expect to receive. One that spoke of peace. Of forgiveness. Of humanity. A letter that I will always hold on to and cherish.

Mary Hussian is an amazing woman.

She forgave the unforgivable. It took her several years, but she was finally able to find that place inside her. That peace. She no longer wanted the death penalty for this man that I had convicted in 1995. She fought for clemency, but failed. He died by lethal injection in 2003.

I’ve often wondered what it was inside her that clicked. What was it exactly that made her go from one extreme to the other? How did she forgive someone whose actions will impact her every day for the rest of her life? He killed her children execution style. How does one live through something so brutal and still manage to find peace? If forgiving someone requires an extra step through the pain, I don’t want to imagine that next level of her pain.

In comparison to hers, my life’s journeys have been quite mild. No matter how big my mountains are in front of me or behind me, Ms. Hussian is an example that forgiveness is possible. Doable. Even though I haven’t quite figured out her formula, I know that it exists.

Forgiveness.

The “Sunday School answer” says it’s for me and not them. However, this phrase doesn’t explain the process. It only explains the result. It doesn’t help me to understand how to turn “not caring anymore” into true forgiveness. It doesn’t explain that sometimes we need to forgive ourselves for not forgiving. Maybe this would release those pressures we place on ourselves and allow true honest healing.

I would love to have coffee with Ms. Hussian sometime. Forget the coffee… all I need is a hug.