The Bitter

"Bitter is what makes us strong, what forces us to push through, what helps us earn the lines on our faces and the calluses on our hands."

-Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet 

One thing that I have tried to make a habit of is identifying a problem and then digging even deeper until I find the root cause of the problem.  Sometimes what you initially identified as the problem was really just a symptom; a byproduct of the actual issue festering deep under the surface.

This isn't always an easy task, especially when it comes to evaluating yourself.  Because what I usually find to be the biggest issue of all is a selfish, rotten, sinful heart.  That is not pretty, and it's definitely not something you want to look at, or think about, or spend time with...even if it is for a good reason.

As I have struggled to heal from what happened on December 1, 2010, I've found that, though it is unpleasant, I really have no choice but to approach the whole thing like I described before.  I needed to really break things down.  I was hurting.  Why was I hurting?  Because xyz.  Why did xyz make me hurt so badly?  Because I believed abc.  Does this make sense?

Here's what I discovered.  I was hurting in a deep, profound way.  Why would I hurt so badly?  It was just a job, right?  And just a house.  Houses and jobs are everywhere.  Common.  It shouldn't be so difficult to find new ones.  But to me, it wasn't just a job.  And it really wasn't so much about the job as it was what came with the job.  The community.  The friendships.  The fellowship.  The knowledge that someone was always there when I needed them.  Someone with similar goals and ideals and ideas of fun.  Kindred spirits.  We were surrounded by a loving community.  Never in my life had I felt more like I truly belonged somewhere.  And that is not as common as a house.  Or a job.  That kind of community, that fellowship are hard to come by.  It is something to cherish and to treasure.  And I really did.  I relished it.

When we lost our jobs and our home, that was scary.  But I also saw a new horizon of possibilities.  Losing our community was the devastating part.  We were no longer a part of that family.  We were outcasts, unable to connect; unable to explain - we didn't even understand what was going on ourselves.  We were so hurt and so embarrassed that we lost our jobs at a Christian camp that never fires anyone that we were unable to face our friends and give them the goodbye they deserved.  I was terrified of what they thought of me.  What had they been told?  Matt and I hadn't even been told much, other than there was just..."something".  If that was the explanation we got, what was the rest of the staff told?  How would that change how they viewed me?  I felt like I had a big red letter slammed on my forehead.

As we drove down that dirt road one last time, I felt like I was leaving my hopes, dreams, and big chunks of my heart behind me, still in our little house on a hill and with the friends we were driving away from.  Matt and I had planned on staying there for a long time.  Years.  Our dream was shattered and flushed down the toilet.

So that explains why I was hurting.  But why did it hurt so badly?  Because it was home to me.  Because I believed I was safe at home.  And I was loved at home.  I belonged at home.  And when I got kicked out of my home, I didn't feel safe or loved anymore.  I didn't belong.  It felt as if the very people and place that I trusted and cherished so dearly had betrayed me in the most vicious and horrendous way.  It shook me to my core.

It hurt me because the people who had been so welcoming, so loving - who had become family...all of a sudden they were distant.  Silent. 

And it hurt because I had made my plans.  I had hoped and dreamed about our future at camp.  I believed that was where God had us, but I don't remember ever really, truly seeking out His will about it.  And I was holding tight to those plans with clenched fists.  I didn't want God's will if it meant being somewhere else.  I didn't want things to change.  I wanted what I wanted, and I just wouldn't let go.  Do you see what I mean about this being unpleasant?  At the heart of this issue was my selfishness, my pride...me, me, me.  It's just not nice.  Because I held so tightly to what I wanted, God had to break a few fingers and rip it away from me in order to give me what I needed.  His will.