| A Winter's Tale A True Story of Tragedy and Forgiveness Anthea Barth “That’s Donald. He was six. And the other is Pete. He was twenty months.” My eyes filled with tears as Sara pointed to the large photograph on the wall and relayed her story: It was a Friday, January 2nd, and we were still on vacation from school. That afternoon the boys and I went to get our hair cut. Dinner was leftovers from our New Year’s party. After we ate we went to visit a neighbor who was dying of cancer. It was a crisp night and the stars were bright as we walked through the newly fallen snow. I heard the snowmobile… Three months later my husband Joe came to visit me. He told me the snowmobile had struck us all. Joe had numerous broken bones and was hospitalized for months, and I had only just awoken from a coma. I asked him who was baby-sitting for the boys. He had to tell me that we didn’t need a baby sitter any more. On that snowy night Joe’s screaming finally brought help from neighbors two hours later. Joe, Sara and the two boys were rushed to a nearby hospital. Joe was admitted; his broken bones were set and he was released from the hospital three months later. Sara however, had to be taken by ambulance to a larger hospital where she could get more help. She was put on a ventilator and was attached to numerous machines and tubes. Because the doctors thought she would die, they gave the surgical job of fixing up her gashed and broken legs to the interns to practice on. As for the two boys, Pete was killed instantly on impact. Donald was brain dead. After two days his father held his hand as he was relieved of the machine that only mechanically kept his body alive. Sara continued: In the days that followed my waking up I had to come to grips with the fact that my boys were dead. Though I was now awake, I would never walk again and would have very limited use of my hands. I remember crying and sobbing for days. At that time Sara had very high fevers caused by an infection in her legs. The doctors wanted to amputate both legs but a nurse begged that they try a different IV antibiotic first. This was done and Sara’s legs were saved, deformed as they were. I was angry for a long time and thought to myself: Why did God do this to me? Why did he allow this to happen? I think a lot of times my Catholic upbringing came in the way because I always felt like I was paying a debt for something I had done. I wasn’t that bad a person; I never killed anyone. I taught my students the best I could. As a child Sara went to Catholic elementary and high school. In 1976 she received her master's degree in special education. She worked as a substitute teacher in an elementary school for a year, but soon got a job at a high school, teaching students with learning disabilities. Sara loved her work and warm mutual relationships developed between her and her students. In fact, one of her former students heard of the accident, flew in from California, and read to Sara every evening while she was in the hospital. During those months in hospital the pastor who had married Joe and Sara came often to visit her. Together they would talk of that horrible day and the days that followed. The pastor told Sara about the funeral mass for Donald and Pete at the Lutheran church. How the church was crowded with Sara’s students and former students, and how the two little caskets were carried up to the cemetery only 300 feet from their house. Sara thought how often she and the boys had walked and played in that very spot up there on the hill. The pastor brought Sara communion every couple weeks and helped her find new courage and faith. Seventeen years later, Sara is still wheelchair-bound and needs 24-hour care. Yet she has accepted her condition to such a degree that I can sense the peace in her room at the long-term care facility where she has lived for the past several years. Sara’s outlook on life after all that has happened to her is amazing, but most incredible is her attitude toward the man responsible for the death of her children. A neighbor of theirs, he served a couple years in jail after the accident but has returned to the neighborhood. To Sara's knowledge, he has expressed no remorse to this day. In her own words: I pray to the Lord that I am able to forgive the man who killed my children. I pray often each day for this forgiveness to remain with me. It’s difficult, but it’s the only way I can live. I look at my picture of Christ on the cross and I think to myself that I’m by no means as strong as Christ, but that’s what Christ would do. There may not be justice on earth but we’ve got eternal life to look forward to. The man who killed my children has that to deal with as well. I know my sons are up in heaven with God, looking down at me and they are my inspiration. I love their pictures right in front of me. I look at their eyes... Sara’s story didn’t leave my heart and mind for days. I kept seeing those two beautiful boys with their dark innocent eyes. I thought of Sara lying helplessly in bed with the reward of forgiveness surrounding her—inner peace. I have visited Sara many times since our first meeting. We have shared our thoughts about forgiveness. Most of us will never have to forgive a wrongdoer for such a horrendous deed. But when I talk with Sara I realize that she not only has to forgive the murderer, but being dependent and vulnerable, she must daily forgive her caregivers, who are sometimes rough or impatient with her. Because her nurses are so busy, she often has to wait for assistance. Impatience aggravates her muscle tone, causing her muscles to go into spasm. At these times, she prays for patience. Sara tries to teach her caregivers how to relate to people who are disabled. “The caregivers ought to have understanding for the patients’ disabilities and should not expect them to do things that they are unable to do. I’m earning my teacher retirement pay by teaching others.” As one aide told me, “Sara is like a mother to us all; she watches over us.” Sara will always be an example of courage for me. The facility where she lives, like many such places, has a depressing atmosphere. But when I visit her, her humor, fortitude and peace are like springs in the desert. © 2003 Bruderhof Communities Diambil dari situs Bruderhof: http://www.bruderhof.com |
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