AdobeStock_357940575
By Father David Axtmann
It was July 21, 2001. My doorbell rang. As I opened the door, I saw the Hyde and Hughes county sheriffs, along with Father John Short. They told me the vehicle my son, Eric, a senior in high school at the time, had been riding in had collided with another vehicle about 15 miles from our home. The driver, Andy, and the driver and passenger in the other vehicle were being airlifted to Sioux Falls in serious condition. Eric had died at the scene.
I was stunned. Realizing that I would have to tell Eric’s sisters and brother overwhelmed me. I couldn’t sleep that night. Questions raced through my mind: What if Eric was the driver? Should I be contacting the other families involved? But mostly: God, what is going on?
I learned that the vehicle Eric was in had been traveling at a high rate of speed. I also found out Eric was a passenger and Andy was the driver. Before me lay the precipice that many of us have had to face: resentment. It began to grow inside of me toward Andy. I knew forgiveness was going to be difficult.
The following day, as I arrived home from making funeral arrangements, I learned that Andy’s mother was in my living room, wishing to speak to me. She broke down and told me how sorry she was. I responded with the words, “There will be no hard feelings on my part.”
Where did those words come from? I certainly did not feel that way. Grace! The Holy Spirit was pushing me back from that precipice. I realized that Andy’s mother had made the choice to leave her son’s side at the hospital to visit me. But even with this grace and revelation, I was reluctant to leave that precipice of anger and resentment, and it began to grow towards Andy once again.
Two days after the funeral, I opened a letter addressed to me from a prisoner at the state penitentiary. The letter was from an inmate who knew of the accident. His suggestion was simple: I needed to visit Andy at the hospital.
The next day, while riding with Father Mark Axtmann, Eric’s brother, I shared the contents of the letter. Father Mark suggested that I take the advice and visit Andy. The next day, I found myself walking into Andy’s room at the hospital.
When I saw Andy, unconscious and strapped to a bed with tubes running in and out of him, I immediately realized this was not someone I could hate. His mother and I shared a conversation where I learned that another vehicle had been involved in the accident and that speed was not the only factor. We ended our conversation with a prayer.
When I look back, it is scary to think how much different my life would be if I had not allowed God’s grace to heal my anger. I would never have become a priest, and Eric’s brothers and sisters would have also found forgiveness difficult without my example.
What often prevents forgiveness is confusing it with other things. Forgiveness is not condoning. We may forgive without approving the offense. Forgiveness is not forgetting. Some hurts are unforgettable. Forgiveness is not pardoning. We can’t release others from the pain they may have to suffer for their acts. Forgiveness is not denial. We must look the offense in the face and call it by the right name.
By not forgiving, we only hurt ourselves. Someone has said that not forgiving and holding a grudge is like drinking poison, thinking it will hurt the other person. Forgiveness is about giving up our right to resentment, anger and revenge. Our healing requires the removal of these things. The healing must be as deep as the wound. This is what Christ meant when he said we must forgive not only seven times, but 77. Wounds can take a long time to heal, and we must continually forgive as the pain of that wound arises over time.
If there’s one thing you take from this story, take this: Let go of anger and resentment as soon as you can. Allow God’s grace to keep you back from that precipice. Once you plunge in, it’s like stepping into wet cement: it’s easy to get into, but difficult to get back out of. When we allow God to work with us through difficult times, the trajectory of our lives can change dramatically.
Father David Axtman is a senior priest in the Diocese of Sioux Falls.
