Charity

Four years before I was born, Thomas Merton wrote No Man is an Island. The books were printed, distributed, read, critiqued, put on shelves, packed in boxes, and stored away. One day in 2005 I found a copy on the basement book shelf at The Angel Inn, Green Lake, WI. After reading No Man is an Island, I read 10 or more other books by Merton. I keep picking up No Man and finding more insight.

Charity...makes me an instrument of God's Providence in (other's) lives. I must become convinced and penetrated by the realization that without my love for them they may perhaps not achieve the things God has willed for them. My will must be the instrument of God's will in helping them create their destiny. Chapter I 6

Yesterday I met a 34 year old named Brian, who was preparing to appear in federal court for sentencing on drug trafficking charges. Today was his day before the judge. This young man had been involved in a major marijuana distribution conspiracy moving a highly potent form of the drug from New York to Madison for three years until the fall of 2003. When I met Brian I didn't know the details of his charges and I offered to join others in supporting Brian in the court room. I sat in the audience and heard the Federal prosecutor explain some of the findings. As the story was told it occurred to me that Aaron probably was drawn into this exact conspiracy in the summer of '03. The extreme volume of pot this organization was moving makes it highly likely that Aaron was affected by the operation.

There was a time from 2003 through a good part of 2005 when I wanted to destroy those people like Brian who were killing my son and my family. I hated these people. For a day in the summer of '05 I wanted to kill any of them. Revenge, I imagined, was better than grief. Anger, hatred, revenge. A drug pusher was going to pay. These guys were the pushers, not the teenagers. They just wanted to be like the pushers. They wanted what the pushers had. The pushers tell the great lies. They coach the kids to manipulate their parents and siblings. They're the role models. They kidnapped my son's mind. Parenting doesn't have an instruction manual but drug pushing does.

I'm grateful for recovery. Today I sat in the courtroom without judging. I had a wide range of feelings for all of the players in the drama. The Judge who may have weighed the political risk of leniency on a drug pusher, the defendant who has changed his life, the family who's nightmare won't end, the prosecutor who appeared to have no friends in the room, and the Mother in the audience who just wanted to know if the defendant, or anyone, knew her son Amos. Amos has been missing for 4 years. She feels no one cares and no one is looking for her son. Of all of my feelings today, anger was not one of them. Sadness, contentment, compassion, envy, sorrow, peace, satisfaction, disappointment.

With my head in my hands I breath and know I stood close to what once was part of the evil that claimed the innocence of Aaron and I immediately experienced the Providence of God. In the presence of what once was evil, I was aware that my compassion for this person is necessary for him to achieve what God has willed for him. Only charity can defeat evil.

No man is an island.