Think No Evil: Inside the Story of the Amish Schoolhouse Shooting...and Beyond
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All of the girls who survived the shooting were also back in school, save one, and even she had returned in her wheelchair for the spring celebration. Vietta found it hard to see her wheelchair bound, but also felt this incredible sense of the miraculous—this was the girl who had taken a shot directly in the head and, defying all of the doctors’ predictions, had lived. Her release from the hospital had been widely reported as her being taken home to die, yet she lived on.
Vietta had spent much of her time the day of the shooting working on that particular girl, trying to save her, and here she was, still in a wheelchair. Vietta would steal glances at her and wonder if she could have done more. Or perhaps her work had kept the girl from passing. There were so many what-ifs.
The day continued and became one of serenity and peace and healing for Vietta and the others, talking and playing with the children, surrounded by the bright spring sunshine and the smell of freshly cut grass and growing things. Children’s laughter danced around the school yard on butterfly wings, and it was genuine laughter, the kind that gave Vietta moments when she almost forgot exactly why she was there. Those moments didn’t last long but were hopeful in themselves: perhaps someday Vietta and the children and even the parents who had lost children would live lives free of the intense pain that day had brought them.
Some of the pregnant mothers who had been in the schoolhouse on the day of the shooting had delivered their babies in time for that spring gathering, and they brought their own air of hope to the day. There is something about the tiny package of a baby, so innocent and dependent and new, that makes time pass slower and the world seem a much safer place. Vietta thought about Naomi Rose’s namesake, now only a few months old. How would she find the world? How would her experiences in the Amish community, and its interaction with the outside world, shape her life?
There were eerie moments and difficult memories—some of the Amish girls recognized the first responders as the ones who had worked on them. The children would look up at them with a timid sort of questioning look, or a thankful smile. They remembered the first responders as if from a dream, or from a time so long ago it must have been before they were born. Emotions were close to the surface, and even the smallest of comments or questions could break through that thin layer of composure. When the tears occasionally came, they were brushed away quietly—they were not out of place, but it was not a day to let the overwhelming grief take precedence, even when some of those present still felt it.
Then the chopping sound of helicopter blades snapped the morning air. Parents cringed, children ducked their heads. The helicopters passed overhead once, then circled around and hovered above the school. The sound seemed so out of place in that new environment of safety and new beginnings. Even seasoned first responders could no longer hear the rhythmic sound of the blades without being transported back six months.
Get those helicopters on the ground!
We need stretchers!
Quick, these two girls first!
The helicopter landed close to the new Amish school, and as the blades slowed, and finally came to an easy stop, everyone found it easier to breathe. Smiles returned. Some of the children ran the short distance to the waiting helicopter. The crew who had flown the helicopter on the day of the shooting were off work and had been able to drive to the picnic—the crew that landed the helicopter could afford only a quick visit, but they allowed the Amish schoolchildren to climb inside, handle the controls, pretend to fly.
Six months before, some of those children had been loaded into the helicopters, strapped down to stiff orange boards, straining to stay alive. The crews had not brought them aboard with smiles and soft words, but deliberately and urgently, wanting nothing more than to save their lives. But this was a welcome change, the way the children could climb in on their own, the way their nervous looks turned to wide grins when they sat on the edge of the helicopter, wishing they could fly away in it.
Soon everyone gathered close to the school. The children lined up, some looking nervous, others swelling with confidence, and sang some songs for the responders that they had been practicing. Their voices were a reminder of all that had taken place, yet somehow they were also the promise of a hopeful future, a promise of good days that could not be stopped by anything. As Vietta stood there in the sunshine, she was once again taken aback at the resilience of the Amish community.
When the children ended their songs they served treats to their guests: ice cream and other traditional Amish desserts like shoo-fly pie and whoopie pies. Everything tasted homemade and fresh: the ice cream on the verge of melting and the chocolate treats, rich and sticky. It was a tremendous celebration of life, of service, and of one particular community’s determination to continue on in a spirit of hope and forgiveness.
I DECIDED to drive by the old school grounds recently. I’m not sure why. Something deep inside me must have wanted to revisit a place that had symbolized both the worst and the best of our lives. It’s hard not to mentally picture the chaos of that fateful day, but at the same time I am reminded that this tragedy has been redeemed by the powerful stories that will inspire and encourage others for generations to come.
The small “No Trespassing” sign seemed unnecessary, out of place. It’s just a field. Why would anyone care if you walked across it? But to our community it is so much more than just a field. It is the place on this earth from which five small girls and a hurting man departed. It is a place that held so much pain. Yet, in the midst of that suffering, the grass grows rich and green again. The cycle of life continues. And where hate could have grown and flourished, seeds of peace and compassion have sprouted.
All because of forgiveness.
I often think about my own life, and what it means to forgive. I wonder if sometimes, when someone wrongs me, I hold on to that pain, almost as a monument to remind me how much they hurt me. Do I sometimes secretly enjoy those reminders, allowing myself the freedom to look occasionally on them and remember how that person was so wrong to do me that harm? The Amish were wise enough to tear down a “monument” that would remind them, every time they passed it, of the pain dealt them by one man. Am I willing to dismantle those things that have caused me bitterness and pain?
What about you? Remember what the Amish said when they were asked how we should represent them to the press. All they wanted was to see this tragedy point people toward Christ. Have you let the hurts you have experienced at the hands of others keep you from enjoying the abundant life God intends for you?
I hope visiting Nickel Mines has shown you that you really do have a choice when it comes to forgiveness. You can wear your old hurts like a badge of honor, dragging yourself and others into the vortex of bitterness and anger. Or you can take the high road, the wise road, and, like the Amish, tear down those old strongholds, rake the soil free of the debris that reminds you of your pain, and plant new seeds of friendship and grace. It won’t be easy. And it will take time. But if you let the new grass grow in your life, who knows?
Maybe your children and your grandchildren and even their children will follow your example.
It has happened before.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
GROWING UP AMISH, I acquired only an eighth-grade education and later discovered that I am severely dyslexic. To say that I never dreamed of writing a book is an understatement!
The subject of this book has shaped who I am today. Lessons in forgiveness have taught me who God is and who I am in God. So first I would like to thank God for His forgiveness and for blessing me with a desire to know Him more.
I would like to thank my parents for being true to the faith of their fathers and for giving me living examples of forgiveness in action. The positive life skills modeled in my childhood home have carried me through the darkest of days. And to my sisters, thank you for always standing by me! And to my brother Sonny, I have missed your presence since the day you left this life to continue in the next.
To my lovely wife, I want to say
thank you for responding positively to my forgiveness. By accepting my forgiveness, you completed the cycle that has led to our complete reconciliation. Thank you for taking your place beside me as my wife. Through everything, my love for you has only grown stronger.
To my daughters, thank you for your constant support and for the four beautiful grandchildren who bring me indescribable joy. To my son-in-law Russ, you are truly a son to me. To Angie, I think of you every day and will never forget your place in our family. Your absence is matched only by your influence. See you in Heaven!
To Cuby Ward, the fruit of your challenge to me to love my wife as Christ loved me will be revealed only in eternity.
To Wayne Welch, the wise and loving counsel my wife and I received from you shaped my life calling to counsel others.
To Dr. Richard Dobbins, your counsel and teaching led me out of the darkest time in my marriage. Your counsel saved my wife from her own despair and, later, my daughter from hers. I am deeply grateful to you for the investment that you have made in my family. Your life and teachings inspire me to learn more and help others.
To Dr. and Mrs. Tom Wilson, allowing us the opportunity to minister to couples in your church added immeasurable benefit to our own healing process. Your friendship and love continue to bless me and my family.
To Dr. Diane Langberg, your graceful approach during times when “the counselor needed counseling” has deepened my understanding of God, myself, and others.
To Bill and Gloria Gaither, thank you for the beautiful music that you create, coordinate, and orchestrate that has impacted my life in such a positive way. Some things can be said only in a song and I thank you for your commitment to the ministry of music.
To friends and family not mentioned here, thank you for your support and encouragement over the years. All of you contribute so much to the fullness and rich blessings of my life!
NOTES
Chapter Two: Nickel Mines, Asleep
1. Bill Simpson. “History Lesson ... Nickel Mines,” Lancaster County, July 2007, 34–38.
2. Steven M. Nolt, A History of the Amish: Revised and Updated (Intercourse, Penn: Good Books, 2003), 74.
3. Our sources for chapters 3 and 4 include information from Amish and non-Amish interviews and news reports. One of the most thorough summaries of the shooting is “Lost Angels: The Untold Stories of the Amish School Shootings,” from the Lancaster New Era, the details of which are listed below. This twenty-seven-page publication is available by e-mailing lostangels@LNPnews.com ($5 plus postage; all proceeds from the sale of this publication will benefit the victims of the West Nickel Mines School shooting).
Chapter Three: Converging on an Amish School
1. “Feel Like Traveling On,” lyrics by William Hunter (Public Domain).
Chapter Four: Point of No Return
1. “Lost Angels,” 11.
2. Stephen M. Silverman and Tim Nudd, “Amish Killer May Have Sought Revenge,” People, October 3, 2006, http://www.people.com/people/article/0,1541823,00.html.
Chapter Five: “Shoot Me First”
1. “Lost Angels,” 15.
Chapter Eight: Think No Evil
1. Dan Collins, “Amish Forgive, Pray and Mourn,” CBS News, October 4, 2006, http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2006/10/04/national/main2059816.shtml.
2. “Amish Grandfather: ‘We Must Not Think Evil of This Man,’” CNN, http://www.cnn.com/2006/US/10/04/amish.shooting/index.html.
Chapter Nine: Godly Examples
1. Encarta Dictionary http://encarta.msn.com/element/features/dic tionary/dictionaryhome.aspx.
Chapter Ten: “Maybe I Should Forgive, Too”
1. Associated Press, “Amish Mourn Neighbor Who Killed 5 Girls,” MSNBC, October 7, 2006, http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/1517 4741/.
Chapter Eleven: Contend Valiantly
1. Steven M. Nolt, A History of the Amish (Intercourse, Penn.: Good Books, 1969), 10.
2. Ibid., 12.
3. Ibid., 17.
4. Ibid., 20–21.
5. Thieleman, J. van Braght, The Bloody Theater or Martyrs Mirror (Scottdale, Penn.: Herald Press, 2006), 741–42.
6. Ibid., 831–32.
7. Nolt, A History of the Amish, 297–98.
Chapter Twelve: From Forgiveness to Friendship
1. Robert Enright and Gayle Reed, “Process Model,” http://www.forgiveness-institute.org/html/process_model.htm.
Chapter Thirteen: Why Forgive?
1. http://www.emotionalcompetency.com/forgiveness.htm.
2. http://www.forgivenessandhealth.com/html/benefits.html.
3. Ibid.
Chapter Fourteen: Edit Your History
1. I am indebted to Dr. Dobbins for the counseling and mentorship he has provided throughout the years. The concept of “Editing Your History” is found in his books Feelings: Friend or Foe and Invisible Imprints.