Carol’s post is a beautiful example of how the Lord works behind the scenes. About two weeks ago, I asked Donna Wells (see Friday’s post) to write on the topic, “Clinging to Hurt” and I asked Carol Bakker to write on giving thanks. And God, in His great wisdom, tied their posts together under a common theme: bitterness. Please join with me in welcoming and in taking to heart the words of Carol Bakker.
In your heart you want to be a gracious and grateful person. And yet,
regardless of the patina of respectability you apply, when you are bitter,
there is no joy in life.
Do you know what it is like to cry lying down, how the hot tears trickle into your ears, making them itch?
I had one of those tears-in-the-ears moments, mentally recounting how I had
been exploited, taken advantage of, in a word—misused. I reviewed the wrong. I polished the offence. I coddled my grievance. And I was miserable.
“Help me, babe,” I cried to my husband. “I hate being this way. Bitterness is
clinging to my soul.”
“Bitterness does not cling,” the wise man quietly replied.
Those four words arrested me. Bitterness Does Not Cling.
Bitterness is the bowl. A bowl is incapable of clinging; it cannot attach itself to
me. The only way a bowl can be connected to me is by my action.
Inside the bowl are black bananas, stinkin’ brown apples, putrid papaya. Rotten fruit. Yet, I gripped this gross bowl of bitterness; I supervised it, wondering why I was so wretched.
“How do I stop clinging to bitterness?” I sniffed.
“Just stop it.”
“Just stop it—just like that?”
“Quit clinging to your bitterness. Put it down. Let it go. Walk away.”
Bitterness has no adhesive abilities. Bitterness is not plastic wrap.
Carol Bakker loves lingering table conversations, harvesting produce from the garden her husband watered, reading in bed, popping bubble wrap, playing with words and singing with her hairbrush. She writes about books, culture, beauty, weddings, grief, travel and music at www.magistramater.xanga.com