Blog•
on February 15th, 2010•
What leads a woman who has lost her much loved husband to a drunk driver to smile at and give a hug and kiss to the man who took his life, influencing the judge to deliver a lesser sentence? Twenty years ago Anne Krueger read a book that, translated into English, had the title ‘To understand, to forgive, and to reconcile.’ Those words stayed with her so that she forgave the man who ran down her cyclist husband then drove on, and also forgave for the process she went through afterwards, the people who didn’t understand her grief, and the situations that upset her. She didn’t want to hate, she forgave the man in the belief that “We all want to have peace in our souls and in our lives, and not always to carry a burden and [be] blaming ourselves and other people” (Weekend Herald 13/02/2010, p A7 ‘Widow offers drunk driver forgiveness’).
I wonder what Anne Krueger said to herself and what picture she had in her mind of the man who was responsible for the death of her husband that she was able to forgive. It seems she sought to understand him as part of forgiveness. I hope I would have what it takes to understand, then forgive and reconcile if ever I should have the misfortune to be in similar position. On her own survival, Anne Krueger says she has, “a corner of my brain that says ‘you will get there.’”
Blog•
on February 3rd, 2010•
I was thinking about what makes the relationship between my sister and me so strong. We certainly don’t live in each other’s pockets. With busy lives we may not even talk for a month. But I know that if I was in trouble she would be there for me and I am sure she knows that I would be there for her. We understand each other and we get on so well.
In a family of six – my parents, my two brothers and my sister, the boys shared one bedroom and for fourteen years, the girls shared another. My sister and I had our ups and downs as kids. There were times when we would have a line down the middle of the bedroom and she wasn’t allowed on my side and I wasn’t allowed on hers. Luckily I had the side with the door and I was able to deny her permission to cross my floor space to go in or out of the bedroom, then puff with indignation when she broke the agreement and put her foot down on my side of the room.
Yet it was this childhood time that formed the foundation of what we have today. As children, every night we talked. We talked about our day and everything that had gone right or wrong in it. We shared everything openly and freely. We kept each other’s secrets, even when we were having a scrap about whatever long forgotten issue that was important at the time. We trusted one another and we communicated. We were sisters in every sense of the word. This trust and communication continues today and is one of those things in my life of which I have certainty.
I have an excellent, loving, trusting relationship with my brothers and I also know that we would be there for each other. Somehow though, it’s not quite the same. They are guys. We didn’t share a bedroom. We didn’t share our deepest secrets night after night over all those years.