WillyBWright
Fleet Admiral
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2003
- Messages
- 8,200
The horror of the slaughter couldn't possibly have been imagined by anybody reading this. A gentle man, loving husband, devoted father, kissed his kids and bade them a good day at school, then inexplicably burst into a one room schoolhouse in an Amish community in Pennsylvania, held 10 young girls hostage, tied them together, pulled out a gun, and opened fire. It shocked even the unshockable among us last Autumn.
Yet, in their unimaginable pain and soulwrenching grief, the families and friends of the slain walked to the man's house. Not with rage, or revenge, or hate, but with forgiveness and sorrow for the widow and children of the selfslain gunman. How? Why? What manner of human, in the face of such immense evil, can possibly muster such ... Humanity?
In traveling to and from work each day, I pass through an Amish community in Wisconsin. I slow for their horsedrawn buggies. I see the kids walking to school dressed as children of the Pioneers did. I see with envy their simple lifestyle among the modern world swirling around me, and yearn for a simpler time. Then I arrive at work, and the reality of my world sets back in. But I work on boats for a living, and that's good too.
When the man was buried, more than half of those attending the funeral were of the Amish community. No harsh words were spoken. No call for retribution was uttered. Just tears, grief, and forgiveness for the man's family that too few of this world will ever even try to understand. It's true that funerals aren't for the dead, but for the living. Nowhere could this have been more apparent.
The Devil seems to be devoting an awful lot of overtime to our troubled world these days. But then, as shown by these uniquely "Christian" acts, so apparently is God. My Christmas wish this year is that warring factions around the world look at this tragedy, and learn from the Amish.
Albeit early, Merry Christmas.
Yet, in their unimaginable pain and soulwrenching grief, the families and friends of the slain walked to the man's house. Not with rage, or revenge, or hate, but with forgiveness and sorrow for the widow and children of the selfslain gunman. How? Why? What manner of human, in the face of such immense evil, can possibly muster such ... Humanity?
In traveling to and from work each day, I pass through an Amish community in Wisconsin. I slow for their horsedrawn buggies. I see the kids walking to school dressed as children of the Pioneers did. I see with envy their simple lifestyle among the modern world swirling around me, and yearn for a simpler time. Then I arrive at work, and the reality of my world sets back in. But I work on boats for a living, and that's good too.
When the man was buried, more than half of those attending the funeral were of the Amish community. No harsh words were spoken. No call for retribution was uttered. Just tears, grief, and forgiveness for the man's family that too few of this world will ever even try to understand. It's true that funerals aren't for the dead, but for the living. Nowhere could this have been more apparent.
The Devil seems to be devoting an awful lot of overtime to our troubled world these days. But then, as shown by these uniquely "Christian" acts, so apparently is God. My Christmas wish this year is that warring factions around the world look at this tragedy, and learn from the Amish.
Albeit early, Merry Christmas.
