He Forgives

So there I sat, looking at the traffic lights. The red extinguished the hope that the green ignited. The air in the car smelled of stale liquor and body odor. In my hand I clutched a bottle of whisky, the lifeblood of my existence, and the weapon of her demise. A girl’s mangled body lay on the side of the road where policemen circled like vultures eyeing their next meal. Firewater ran through my veins, distorting my memories, but still I knew it was my fault. Although I remembered checking out of the rehab center and tricking myself into thinking that a little alcohol wouldn’t be bad, the memories after that seemed like foggy illusions; my car running the stop sign, the thump as I went over her young body and the realization that this was more than just a setback. And when you spelled it out I guess I didn’t get that. Then I realized that I had committed murder. How would her family ever forgive me if they found out? I decided that I needed an alibi.

Opening the cracked door to my dim, dilapidated apartment, I searched my mind, trying to find a way to escape the consequences of my actions. I wanted to run away, I wanted to ditch my life, ‘cause all of my mistakes kept me awake at night. In the earlier days of my life, desertion had led to alcohol. First my wife left me. She left behind a lovely home, a loving family, a devastated daughter, and took with her our hearts. Next, God deserted me, taking my daughter with him; she was murdered one night when she ran away to try and find her mother. How could a loving God desert me in my time of need? From then on, I decided to desert God, just as he had deserted me, and rule my own life, listening to no one but myself. My actions led me up to that night.

I so hated consequences. And running from You was what my best defense was. God, don’t make me face up to this. Who would have ever thought that my actions would produce those consequences? After all of my escapes has been exhausted, I thought I had a way but then I lost it. And my resistance was once much stronger, and I knew I couldn’t go on like that much longer. I tried calling an old friend, but I only got his machine, saying that he was on a family cruise and wouldn’t return for a week. I knew that I couldn’t use him to establish my alibi. There was only one choice left, my mother. Unfortunately, she was also gone. Tears of self-loathing and fear ran down my cheeks as I sat in my chair, trying to think of a way out. And after all of my alibis deserted me, I just wanted to get by; I didn’t want anything to hurt me. I had no idea where my head was at, but if my heart said I’m sorry can we leave it at that? Because I just wanted for all of this to end.

A sudden pain ripped through my chest, and I knew that I would soon be going to join my daughter, although I couldn’t possibly join her in heaven. I had turned my back on God and I was a murderer. Was it too late to reconcile? My eyes fell on a Bible sitting on the floor, and I remembered something a priest had told me once. He said that when you are standing before God, all sins were the same, murder was just as bad as a white lie and adultery was equal to disobeying your parents. Relief washed over me as I fell to my knees, praying to God for guidance in my last hours.

A calm peace settled over me as a plan formed in my mind; I would admit to my guilt in a letter. As spasms of pain ripped through my chest and my breathing became labored I wrote a letter to the victim’s family. I wrote of my life and my deep sorrow for their loss and concluded with my reconciliation with God and His eternal love. In the letter, I begged for forgiveness but concluded that I would understand if they didn’t forgive me. As more pain ripped through my chest, I dropped the pen and fell to the floor and breathed my last. When I got tired of running from You, I stopped right there to catch my breath. There your words they caught my ears, You said “I miss you son, come home.” And my sins, they watched me leave, and in my heart I so believed, the love you felt for me was mine; the love I’d wished for all this time. And when the doors were closed, I heard no “I told you so’s,” I said the words I knew I knew. “Oh God, oh God, I needed you, God all this time I needed you, I needed you.”