A Light for My Path

Recently I was invited to attend a ladies’ tea at a dear friend’s church. It was a fun and inspiring event. First of all, we got to dress up, which I confess is something I don’t do very often since I retired. And when I say “dress up” I mean we wore hats or fascinators, gloves, heels, and dresses within the proscribed color scheme. The church fellowship hall was decorated to a tee (no pun intended). Tables were set with centerpieces, teacups, and chargers. There were crustless sandwiches, macarons, other finger foods, and of course, tea. Each lady was assigned a name from a chart based on her birth month and first letter of her last name. For example, I was Lady Greene.

The theme of the party was “Spill the Tea: What do you do when life gives you lemons? Be bitter or be better?” That’s where the inspiration came in.

The keynote speaker was amazing. She shared her story of a troubled youth, immoral behavior, education and redemption, backsliding, and finally achieving maturity in her faith life and her calling to council and minister to people in the prison system. Truly an inspirational story.

I was honored to be one of the introductory speakers. To share my story of child loss. My story is nowhere near as dramatic as the primary speaker’s. But I think all of us who have gone through trauma (whether of our own making or not) have struggled with feeling bitter. Bitter at the unfairness. Bitter about the guilt we may feel. Bitter at the stigma we may carry. Bitter – and angry – at the God who allowed these tragic things to happen to us (to me) when everyone else around us is living their best lives.

How little we really know. How ignorant we are about what is behind the façade most people wear. Like a child playing dress-up. We put on our makeup and our ladylike smiles. Our pretend names. And we hold that delicate teacup full of pain and anger and shame in two fingers. Terrified we are going to trip on our wobbly heels. Worried we are going to spill that hot emotion all over our pretty dress. And reveal the hurting, awkward, angry bitterness that Godly people aren’t supposed to possess.

Because what will others think? What if they find out I did some unwholesome things in my youth. Will they lose respect for me? What if I tell them I am twice divorced and married to my third husband. Will they think I am a poor role model? What if I say I lost my younger daughter eight years ago and I still grieve for her and I write about child loss every single week. Will they think I have no belief and conviction, or I must be emotionally unstable?

What if all this speculation and worry is what is making me bitter and angry? Not the actual events, but my inability to be honest about them. My unwillingness to open up and admit my humanness. My fear that if I spill my tea I will come across as vulnerable and unfaithful.

What if my reticence is keeping me bitter?

As Paul told the congregation at Corinth, we need to live by faith, not by sight (2 Cor 5:7). What we see, in ourselves and in others, may be just the shell. The protective façade. But, if we, in faith, open up our vulnerable selves and allow God to take control, that cup won’t be bitter any longer.

And isn’t that better?

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Laura