SEVENTY TIMES SEVEN

CHAPTER 10

Longbranch Washington
August 2006

Judy

"...the human charioteer drives his (winged horses)in a pair; and one of them is noble and of noble breed, and the other is ignoble and of ignoble breed; and the driving of them of necessity gives a great deal of trouble to him." Plato (from the Phaedrus Dialogue)

"Forgive as the Lord forgave you..." Paul, the Apostle Colossians 3:13

"We forgive freely or we do not really forgive at all." Lewis Smedes - "Healing the Hurts We Don't Deserve"

A young, confident disciple named Peter asked Jesus “how many times should we forgive someone?” Feeling smug and self righteous he suggested 7 X 7. That sounds like a lot of times…49! But Jesus replied with an even greater number. He said you are to forgive 70 X 7 times. I read that conversation many times thinking I can’t imagine needing to forgive someone four hundred and ninety times. That is until after Fred’s accident, actually after his recovery.

During Fred’s most critical time in the hospital, I was consumed with his daily progress. Everyday prior to his first surgery blood was drawn to check his white blood cell count, his liver enzymes, and other things that indicated whether his body could endure surgery. Sometimes this was the only news I could give to people. Things moved slowly.

I was also consumed with pacing the hall outside of the ICU room when he was crying out in pain. I discovered nurses have very different ways of monitoring for pain in patients. Some were strictly by the clock. If there were 20 more minutes until the next dose of morphine was to be administered, you would wait those 20 minutes. No matter how much I was in their face pointing out that my husband was really in pain and he needed relief right now, they stuck with their time schedule. Then there were other nurses who would ask Fred, “Now on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the worst pain imaginable, where are you right now? If that pain gets to a 7 or an 8, you let me know. We’ll give you something before it gets too bad.” I loved those nurses!
When he was moved to the rehab hospital in El Paso I started each day with going to work early and working through my lunch hour so that I could drive the thirty five miles to El Paso from Las Cruces. I wanted to be there every day to cheer Fred on in his slow recovery.

When Fred returned home there were a whole new set of challenges. These were some of the hardest days for me. I would get up early so that I could help Fred into the shower, tend to some stubborn wounds that were still healing and help put on his white, tight ted hose. Although I know wearing the ted hose was important to promote good circulation and prevent blood clots, I sometimes felt they were sent from Satan himself. What a struggle to get them on each day!

Although these were challenging, draining and even at times discouraging days, I was not entertaining thoughts of bitterness toward God or towards Bob. I knew God was a sovereign God. I had never lived by the health and wealth theology that seems to say if your faith is strong enough, if you plant enough seeds (usually money), you will be blessed. The implication being, you will be well and wealthy.

I knew that believers were not exempt from tragic things happening to them. Godly people have cancer, still born babies, rebellious children, spouses that cheat on them, and they are involved in tragic accidents. I knew that God did not take you out of difficult times but was with you during them. In the cycle of emotions that people are supposed to go through after a serious loss, I thought I was just skipping the anger one. That is until Fred was as recovered as he was going to be and I realized how life altering this accident would make his life.

One of the things that attracted me to Fred early in our relationship was his physical abilities. In my star struck 17 year old eyes, he was a hunk. He loved to hike, play pick-up basket ball, and ski difficult slopes in the Rocky Mountains. He was just generally a very physically fit person. This was quite a contrast to me. I didn’t even learn how to swim until I was in college. Backpacking, are you kidding? That was not my idea of a really good time.

Fred’s love of exercise only increased after we were married. In our first year of marriage he led a group of high school boys on a long bike trip around Lake Michigan. This was followed by many other long distance bike trips. He continued to ski, loved to play golf, and added regular running to his life of being physically fit.

I was especially grateful for his love of running. He could come home from the office or from a day of stressful visits feeling down, stressed and/or tired. After a good three to five mile run he would return invigorated and light hearted. I loved what running did for him. As many people have discovered, exercise helps to reduce stress. This was certainly true of Fred.

It was Fred who first tried to teach me to downhill ski. We were dating at the time. I wanted to learn how to ski so we could enjoy this sport together. I loved the majestic mountain views and although I was not at all inclined to athletic endeavors, I was hopeful this would be one I would catch onto fairly easily.

I found my first challenge in learning to ski. It was the time that just about ended our budding relationship. Fred was determined I needed to learn how to stand up after I had fallen. He gave me directions, plant your pole, dig the edges of your skis into the slope of the hill, and push yourself up. It all sounded so easy until I tried again and again only to slip back to the ground. Finally another skier held out his hand and helped me up. I decided to take lessons the next quarter of college.

I did learn to ski and we enjoyed many trips to pristine Rocky Mountain ski areas. Keystone became one of our favorites. I loved watching Fred effortlessly glide down the slopes, skis always parallel, unafraid to tackle even the most challenging slopes. That was the point where we went our separate ways, however. I stuck to the easy and intermediate slopes and he sped down the black diamond slopes. We would meet at the bottom and start up together again on the chair lift. These were good times. When our daughters became teenagers, skiing became a sport our whole family enjoyed.

When we were in Enumclaw going through the interview process that would lead to a call to Calvary Presbyterian, one of the things we talked about was how great it would be to live so close to a ski area. We made plans to buy season tickets and even do some night skiing after a work day. Skiing after a work day was probably a pipe dream. Even if we had arrived in Enumclaw in perfect health, our schedules would likely not have allowed for that to happen. Under the best of circumstances our idyllic dreams and reality collide.

The second winter after Fred’s accident he decided he was going to give skiing a try again. He had his skis adapted with a half inch plate under the binding of the left ski to compensate for his leg length difference. He knew it would be different and difficult but did not realize how hard it would be with the permanent paralysis that kept him from being able to life up his feet or keep them turned inward.

Now in Washington State we made the trip to Crystal Mountain Ski Resort, only an hour drive from Enumclaw. The winter day was typical for western Washington. It was rainy when we left Enumclaw and cloudy and lightly snowing at Crystal Mountain. After getting our skis on, Fred headed to the bunny slope and I glided to the chair lift to go up to the top of the mountain and ski down. He didn’t want to ruin my time on the slopes by staying with him. All the way up I kept thinking how unfair it was that he was the one that had the ability to ski taken from him. He was the one that loved it the most.

I skied to the bottom of the hill, waved to Fred and got back into the line for the chair lift. The line was slow moving so I could watch Fred on the slope with all the other beginners, most of whom were young children. He fell frequently and struggled each time to get up again. As I moved into place to get on the chair lift, I met a woman who was from our church. I burst into tears. “I can hardly stand to watch Fred. It breaks my heart to see him struggle to ski. He was such a competent skier and now he can hardly stand.” She replied to my outburst the way many people would over the next few years when I would feel discouraged for Fred. “But aren’t you glad he is alive?” Of course I was glad he was alive. But somehow that didn’t take the hurt or anger away from my heart. There were huge losses that were a result of the accident. The reality of these losses gnawed at me and made me sad and angry.

I think that may be the first time I wrote an angry letter to Bob in my mind. “Why didn’t you stop that bus? What were you thinking or not thinking? You have no idea how awful life is for Fred. You are probably just happily living your life now thinking ‘Everything is fine now. Fred is well. He is at his new church. Life is good.’” Well, it isn’t. It’s terrible.”

Fred tells me I have a tendency to overreact.

It’s true, life was not all terrible. I was so grateful that Fred was walking, that he was alive. There was much happiness in our lives but none the less, the permanent paralysis in his legs would limit what he could do physically. Some injuries can be exercised back to complete wellness but spinal cord damage is not one that any amount of exercising will help. He was permanently disabled.

Because of Fred’s foot drop, he would often trip. He would trip and fall in the middle of a street or on a sidewalk. One time we were in a Park and Ride lot rushing to catch a shuttle bus to go to a University of Washington Husky football game when Fred ended up on the cement. Later in the stands Fred faced another challenge. It was almost impossible to maneuver to our seats because of the narrow space between the legs of the people we had to pass and the seats in front of us. This was compounded because Fred could not lift up his feet. Off went another bitter, mental letter to Bob.

During the night Fred would have leg cramps. The natural thing to do is pull your feet back stretching the back muscles where the cramp resides. Since Fred could not do this, he would struggle out of bed sometimes several times a night trying to relieve himself of the pain. Another mental letter off to Bob.

Fred didn’t have these feelings toward Bob at all. I marveled at his forgiving spirit and his ability to not cast any blame on Bob. Why was I having such a hard time? I think that once I had done everything I could for Fred, once I realized how difficult some things would be for him and I couldn’t do anything more to fix it, I just felt helpless. That is when the anger toward Bob set in. More than one person told me that it was harder for the person, often the spouse, to watch their loved one in pain or suffering than it is for the person going through it.

The mental, angry letter writing became more frequent. I knew it was not right nor particularly helpful. I wondered if it was cancer that Fred was struggling to overcome. Who would I be angry at? The people who use too many dangerous pesticides on our food? Second hand smoke? Or just the gene pool that we have drawn from?

When I would have these thoughts of anger and even blame aimed at Bob, it actually sent me into a state of confusion. I knew Bob did not do anything intentionally to hurt Fred. He cared deeply for Fred. He was his friend. He was a brother in Christ and a real servant. If there was a person in need, Bob was there. I knew he felt horrible about the accident. How could I be harboring any ill feeling toward him! It was hard for me to accept that I needed to forgive him

My narrow view of forgiveness was something you gave someone who had intentionally done something to hurt or harm you. I am always amazed to hear of people who forgave someone who intentionally shot them, raped or molested them, was driving drunk and caused an accident, or slandered them. Our friend Bob was not in this category. There was not an ounce of malevolence on his part.

Bob did not do anything intentionally, but in my mind he was the one who started the bus, was behind the wheel and did not stop it. His lack of response caused Fred to suffer and sustain permanent injuries. I realized I had not forgiven him for that.

I knew that forgiveness was something God expected from us. “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” So, my journey of letting go of my anger began with the Lord’s Prayer. Every time we would pray that prayer as a community of believers or I would pray it alone in quietness, I would think of Bob and forgive him, not for what he did but for what he didn’t do, stop the bus.

I’d like to say it just took a time or two to completely and finally forgive Bob, but it didn’t. I had to do it again and again, again and again. I began to understand why Jesus said you need to forgive seventy times seven. Sometimes it takes that many times.

It was seven years after Fred’s accident. I was part of a small group of women that was studying the book 40 Days of Purpose. I had shared in my small group Bible Study at other times my struggle with forgiveness and letting go of my anger, but this night when I shared, the women prayed specifically for me. There was not a bolt of lightening but the next time Fred tripped, I didn’t write a mental letter to Bob

In spending time in further reflection I realized that my struggle to forgive Bob was likely a smoke screen for not wanting to truly accept what had happened as part of God’s sovereign will. Was I angry at Bob or at God for somehow being absent at the moment of the accident and allowing it to happen? My smugness in thinking I could easily accept whatever came my way as something God had allowed believing He was in control was tested and I was found wanting.

I am not unlike many people of faith who wrestle with how the sovereignty of God and the free will of man fit together. Great theologians and thinkers have written volumes trying to put these two truths into perspective. I have come to think of them as parallel truths. On the very best of days there is only a tiny flicker of understanding about how these can both be true.

I am not a puppet but God is in control. Every day I make decisions. Every moment of every day, God is in control, holding together the very universe yet mindful of me. This was true on the day of the accident, it was true during the difficult days of rehabilitation, it is true today. Bob was behind the wheel of the bus but God was on his throne not surprised by one second of the events of that day.

Has forgiving Bob, accepting the accident as part of God’s sovereign will made me forget what happened? No. Do I still yearn for Fred to have full use of his legs, to be able to fully do everything he did before the accident? Yes. But what forgiveness and acceptance has done is it has replaced anger and resentment with a quiet, calm sense of peace.