It will be hard to forget the horror that happened the first week of October to the peaceful, God-loving Amish community of Nickel Mines, Pa. That a disturbed man could invade the school where Amish children respectfully and peacefully were learning their lessons, intending to sexually molest and kill young girls, will forever sear our memories.

But beyond this horrific crime was another headline, as seen in my daily paper: "Amish Urge Forgiveness for Shooter." Reporters kept asking about "revenge and hatred," but the Amish parents, relatives and friends spoke of forgiveness.

For so many onlookers, this willingness to seek forgiveness rather than vengeance was so out of the norm that they sought an explanation. One researcher, Gertrude Huntington, identified also as an "expert on children in Amish society," explained: "They know their children are going to heaven. They know their children are innocent and they know they will join them in death."

Then she said something everyone should latch on to: "The hurt is very great, but they don't balance the hurt with hate."

Yet, when you are seared by such horrible loss and pain, how can you fight the hate that overtakes you? I know that place. I was thrown into that hell when I lost a son and a daughter-in-law at the hands of a murderer. Then, in the space of a phone call, I had to struggle with whether forgiveness was possible, whether it ever made sense and even whether it was the right thing.

I would break out in a sweat thinking of the violence, the sin that happened that night when an 18-year old slid through a basement window into their home, stealthily went up the stairs to the bedroom where they were sleeping and shot them to death with his 9 mm semiautomatic gun. The word "forgiveness" never crossed my mind, and if it had at that moment I would have written it off as nonsensical.

But I soon realized there was only one path that could help me survive --- to put my life solidly in the hands of my God. My children helped me, as we struggled together to find our souls, so damaged by this horror.

We always had been opposed to the death penalty, and healing first began when we wrote to the judge, asking that the young man not be executed. Then it was another mother, who had moved beyond hatred and revenge after the murder of her daughter, who unknowingly helped me.

She began writing to the murderer, saying honestly, "This does not mean that I think you are innocent or that you are blameless for what happened." It was what she then said that made an imprint in my heart: "What I learned is this: You are a divine child of God. You carry the Christ-consciousness within you. You are surrounded by God's love even as you sit in your cell. The Christ in me sends blessings to the Christ in you."

I cried my eyes out. She made me understand in a new way what Jesus meant by forgiveness and why it must be a way of life, a way to live continuously. Now I could see that the minute we say "no" to forgiveness, we are gouging Christ out of our life, and from that resulting emptiness of soul we have nothing to give another.

This is what the Amish community knows. From their tragedy, they're sharing this knowledge with all of us!

Antoinette Bosco is an author and columnist with Catholic News Service.