Our Lawsuit Folly

'Pointy fence posts' photo (c) 2011, Chris Waits - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

Every Friday my syndicated column appears in a bunch of newspapers in southeastern Ontario. This one concerns a horrible crime spree from two years ago, where the head of the largest air base in Canada was found to be a serial killer, murdering two women and sexually assaulting two others before he was caught. While he’s now locked up for life, the story is continuing. Here it is:

The crimes of Russell Williams rocked our little corner of southeastern Ontario, and put Tweed and Belleville on the map—and on CNN. But those who were indelibly changed were not those, like me, who were merely spectators, but Jessica Lloyd, Cpl. Marie-France Comeau, their families and friends, and the two sexual assault victims. They are the ones who truly suffered. The rest of us were just compassionate yet horrified onlookers.

Nevertheless, some bystanders did get unwillingly involved, most notably Williams’ neighbour Larry Jones, who was originally a suspect in the two Tweed sexual assaults. Last week he and his wife launched a lawsuit naming, among other defendants, Russell Williams and his wife, the police, and, most ludicrously, one of the assault victims herself, who misindentified his voice.

Whoa. Back the truck up. I totally understand suing Williams and his wife, but what were the police supposed to do? Ignore a genuine lead? And what was the victim supposed to do? She honestly thought it was him.

We are a sick society if we think that running to a lawyer can solve emotional pain. Besides, the more people run to lawyers, the more we distort healthy human interaction. I don’t know how Jones’ unfortunate involvement in this case ended, but 150 years ago the solution would have been straightforward. The police would have knocked on Jones’ door, after they arrested Williams, and said, “We’re really sorry, buddy. This must have been hell for you. We wish you all the best.”

Today, no one dares apologize for anything, because an apology is an admission of guilt. If a doctor apologizes to a patient for missing something, they may as well purchase a neon sign saying, “Easy Mark”. If a business owner apologizes when someone slips on their floor, they’re inviting a lawsuit. Few people today say, “I’m sorry.” We keep our professional distance and we shun courtesy, all so we can save our necks.

Yet lawsuits don’t just make courtesy disappear; they kill responsibility and common sense, too. In August, country duo Sugarland performed at the Indiana State Fair in very high winds. The stage collapsed, killing seven concertgoers. The families have now sued everyone remotely affiliated with that concert for failing to provide a safe environment.

If you’re out at a concert, and the winds start to gust at 60 miles an hour, shouldn’t your first thought be, “Maybe it’s not a good idea to be here?” Thinking, “Country singers know more about safety than I do so I will leave the decision to them,” is pretty stupid. Do we really trust other people to be more responsible with our safety than we ourselves? That’s insane.

Yet to me, what’s even more insane is that our police department will now have to dedicate valuable resources to defending themselves in this lawsuit, when they could be out solving crimes and enhancing public safety. I doubt their budget will be enlarged to cover these extra expenses, so all of the Quinte area will suffer less policing so the police can argue that it is, indeed, their duty to follow up leads.

Sometimes horrible stuff just happens. It was Mr. Jones’ bad luck to live next door to evil. I’m truly sorry for him, although I can’t understand how suing a victim will enhance his now ruined reputation. But horrible stuff happens to other people, too. A friend of mine lost her 16-year-old daughter to cancer this year. Another friend, younger than me, is undergoing cancer treatment. And for pity’s sake, two women were sexually assaulted and two other women murdered! Lawsuits against sexual assault victims and police can’t fix the pain anyone’s suffered. Exhibiting forgiveness, courtesy, and grace in the face of trial will. And no lawyer can give you that.

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Giving Up Your Expectations for Reconciliation

Jumpingphoto © 2007 Will Foster | more info (via: Wylio)
God made us to be loved, and to love in return. He made us to live in community; to find that community first in our homes, and then to expand that community as we grow. We are supposed to have good relationships.

But a lot of us don’t. For many of us, the most fundamental relationships, those with our parents, are broken. And that’s wrong. We can feel it in the very fibre of our being. A mom is supposed to love her kids. A dad is supposed to be there and protect them. And maybe your parents didn’t.

I spoke at retreats that last two weekends, and one of the stories I tell is of learning how to forgive the dad who left me when I was two, to only have a very sporadic relationship with me afterwards. For most of my teenage years I was really bothered by this, but I’m not in the least anymore, because God has worked a real healing in me.

Some of that you could call forgiveness. In this recent post we got into a bit of a debate as to what forgiveness really is; can you have forgiveness if the other person hasn’t repented? I think you can, but I think it depends on the definition, and so that’s what I want to talk about here. And maybe a better word than forgiveness is “freedom”. When we talk about forgiveness we get all caught up in what we’re forgiving and in what spiritually that means, but freedom we tend to understand. Jesus came to set us free, and He wants us to live in freedom. So how do you find freedom if you’re haunted by bad relationships?

After sharing at one of these retreats, a university-aged girl came up to me to talk about her dad. Her story was similar to mine, she said, and what she just wants, more than anything, is for her dad to acknowledge that he messed up and hurt her. Yet he never seems to do that. Instead, he’s active in his church and preaches about how to be a good father (he has a second family now). And all the while he’s never really reconciled with his daughter.

Can she find freedom?

I think she can, and I think it comes in this form: giving up your expectations that he will one day realize that he was a jerk. Giving up on the idea that one day he will actually apologize.

Should he apologize? Absolutely. But the fact is that most parents who messed up never see that they did, indeed, mess up. They’ve built this whole fantasy inside their heads about how they did the best they could, and everything that went wrong is someone else’s fault. I have a friend who was abused by her mother, and her mother still won’t admit it. It was always because someone else was cruel to her. And her kids never understood her.

People can be so cruel to their kids, and sometimes we feel like the hurt would be made better if they could just acknowledge that hurt. If they just saw it, it would be like they were validating us as people, and confirming that our feelings matter. Our view of the world is indeed correct; they did mess up, we were hurt, and we are not wrong for thinking so. It’s validating our personhood.

Is it the right thing to do? Yep. Is it going to happen? Most likely not, short of a miracle of God. People have this whole self-preservation system that often prevents them from seeing their own guilt. We can justify anything. And it’s quite likely they will continue to justify it, all the way to their graves.

So what do you do? I told this girl she had to let go of the dream that one day he would apologize. It’s not a question of whether or not he should; the problem is that as long as that dream is alive, then whenever she sees him she hopes that today will be the day. Her stomach is in knots. She gets a headache. She wants it so badly. And when it doesn’t happen she gets angry all over again, as though he has hurt her all over again.

If she were to let it go, though, and just realize that he is a very imperfect person, and that he was not the father he should have been and that he never will be, then she can renegotiate a new relationship with him. Maybe she can get to the point where, as an adult, they can enjoy the occasional dinner together, or talk on the phone sometimes, and that’s as far as it goes. Her emotional energy won’t be drained by these small encounters; they can just be part of her life, and that’s fine.

That’s where I’m at now in my relationship with my dad. I’m not mad. I’m not angry. And we chat occasionally, and that’s fine. And I got to that place because I let go; I said, “God, I want you to be my Father, not him, because you are the only person who can ever love me perfectly.” And I looked to God for my affirmation.

Some may call that forgiveness; I don’t want to put a label on it because then we get into the whole debate about repentance and reconciliation. The point, to me, is that by freeing him from the expectation that he will one day apologize, I freed myself from all the tension around our relationship.

Does that mean we have a close relationship? Nope. For that to happen, he would have to acknowledge what he did, because real intimacy isn’t possible if it’s based on lies. But we can find a type of relating that works for us, even if it’s not what it should be.

And I don’t have stomach pains anymore. I don’t cry anymore. I don’t really care anymore. God has given me so much more today, and I don’t need my dad. Occasionally I grieve for the little girl I was who deserved more, but not very often. I am the person I am today because of the things that happened to me, and I’m quite happy with who God has made me to be. So I just accept my dad as part of my story, and decide that God will be the one who will fill the holes that my father left.

It is hard to release people of expectations, but when you do that, you really free yourself. You realize that you will never get the emotional affirmation that you need from them, and so you turn to God instead. And then you end the tension that surrounds that relationship.

Have you ever experienced this? Or are you still trying to let go of expectations? Tell me about it!
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Let It Go

angryphoto © 2008 A of DooM | more info (via: WylioEvery Friday my syndicated column appears in a bunch of newspapers in southeastern Ontario. This week’s was really more regional in nature, so I thought I’d scour the archives for another one to print you probably haven’t read. Here’s an oldie but a goodie:

Recently we received a ticket in the mail from the Toronto Parking Authority. It seems we parked one evening at midnight in a no-parking zone, and we owed them $40. There was just one minor detail they overlooked. It wasn’t us. Sure, that was our license plate on the ticket, but we were nowhere near Toronto that night. My husband was working in the Emergency Room, and I was home with the kids two hundred kilometres away. No problem, I thought. I’ll just clear this all up.

That was easier said than done. There was no email address on the ticket, just a regular phone number (not even toll free) to phone during business hours. The only other way to deal with it was to go in person. So I phoned. It was busy. I tried for three days. And then, miraculously, I got an answer. “You are number 24 in line. Your wait will likely be 38 minutes.” So I waited. And waited. Number 17. Number 8. Number 3. And finally, number 1. And as I was being transferred, I heard—a busy signal. I had been disconnected.

In desperation, I called some traffic ticket specialists, figuring they could help me. They told me that if I didn’t pay the ticket on time, the authorities would double the fine, and it would cost me more than $40 to fight it. I could take them to small claims court, they explained, but again, it would cost me more than the price of the ticket. I may as well just pay it. “But it wasn’t me!” I told her. “It’s the principle of the thing!” She told me she understood, but there was nothing I could do.

How could the government just do this to me? I was really steamed. I told everyone my story, and actually found other people who had received similar tickets. “What did you do?” I asked. “We paid.” they said. “We could never get through on that phone number.”

So after a week of worrying about this, doing little else, I finally realized there was no point. Sometimes you just have to let it go.

A lot of life is like that. We choose to hold on to our grudges, because it’s the principle of the thing. Bitterness, though, doesn’t pay very good dividends. Someone once said that anger is like a poison that you take yourself. It doesn’t do anything to the person you’re angry at, but it hurts you. You go through life always testing, always suspicious, and never at peace.

Letting go isn’t easy, but it’s a lot better than driving yourself nuts. I could have fought that ticket on principle, but it would have cost me more. Bitterness often costs us more than forgiving would, even if forgiving doesn’t seem fair. Forgiveness, of course, doesn’t mean that we ignore problems or subject ourselves or our kids to harm. It just means that we choose not to let those problems consume so much of our emotional energy. We let the anger go so we can enjoy the rest of life. Dwelling on such problems and seeking revenge, even if only in your head, only hurts you. You spend your life with such negativity that you don’t even notice to see the good around you.

I know someone whose wife left him for someone else. It wasn’t a pretty situation. It certainly wasn’t fair. This man, though, now uses his kids to get back at her. He won’t buy them clothes, school supplies, or toys. He tries to minimize his child support payments as much as possible so she has very little money to live on so that she can’t spend on herself. He’s punishing her, he thinks, but really he’s hurting his kids and himself in the process. He’s losing out on his relationship with his children because he’s still so hurt over her.

She did betray him. She did hurt him. But sometimes you have to let it go. It isn’t always easy, and it isn’t always pretty. Chances are, though, that life will be much easier on the other side. The principle of the thing isn’t always worth it. People are. Sometimes that’s hard to swallow, but it’s the best medicine there is.

After finishing this column, I gave that phone number one last try. To my amazement I got through, and they cancelled the ticket immediately. It felt great, but not nearly as wonderful as giving up that anger in the first place.

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