Bitter or Better

We all know people who have been beaten down by life. Maybe they have suffered a great loss or are struggling with a serious illness or both. Perhaps their loss is of a financial nature. Maybe they have lost an important relationship or job. No one in this earthly life is exempt from loss or pain. We cannot control what life hands us. We can only control how we respond to life's inevitable changes and challenges.

We live in an imperfect world, and we deal with imperfect people. We, ourselves, are flawed. All of us. At some point, we must choose. We can either allow the pain and hardship of imperfection to make us bitter or we can choose to use our human existence to make us better.

Shortly after my second child was born, I developed endometriosis, a painful, unrelenting condition. Gradually, it worsened throughout the next fifteen years. If I had the power to change that period of my life, I would. If I could erase those terrible memories, I would. I saw doctor after doctor and tried first one medication and then another. I was referred to gynaecologists, edocrinologists, psychotherapists, nutritionists and more. Nothing helped. I became depressed, angry, and desperate. My life, my family, and my dreams were slipping away. I wanted to be a good wife and mother, but I was failing in both roles. I pushed my husband away with negativity and criticism borne of constant pain. I was missing out on the joy of raising the children I so desperately wanted. My passionate career aspirations required energy. But every day was colored by incessant, insidious misery. Life had become a burden too heavy for me to carry.

Finally, at the age of forty-two, in a last-ditch effort to restore my health, I underwent a hysterectomy. But, instead of the cure I had joyfully anticipated, I faced the beginning of a long journey. Now, my body was plunged into the living-hell of surgical menopause. I couldn't start hormone replacement therapy until a year after the surgery because hormones would cause the remaining endometrial tissue to regrow.

At this point, my marriage was strained, my depression worsened, and suddenly my children were teenagers. Where was this God who supposedly loved me and cared about me? Where was the God who promised to never leave me or forsake me? I had accepted Jesus at a young age. I had prayed daily, read the Bible regularly, and attended church faithfully. Why was God allowing me to suffer? I had begged and pleaded. I had bargained and questioned. I had railed against God for deserting me. I had chosen bitterness.

The only action I had not taken was surrender. The verb, surrender, has the hallmarks of being passive, but the act of surrender is a tall order. Surrender is an attitude that requires courage. It is a behavior demanding great, heaving effort. Surrender involves the intentional struggle of letting go. Letting go of pride, ego, and stubborn self-sufficiency. Surrendering our egocentric schemes to God's perfect plan requires a conscious decision that no one can make for us, even when it seems we are too weak to decide anything.

I would love to proclaim that surrender resulted in instant, miraculous healing. Indeed, some miracles do manifest instantly. No, I wasn't the recipient of an instant miracle, but I did experience immediate, pervasive assurance that my miracle was promised in God's time. It came in the form of peace. Yet, God still had a lot of work to do in me and required a lot of work from me, but now I was indwelt with peace.

The moment I released every aspect of my being into God's omnipotent, omniscient hands, trusting the resurrected, living Christ to be Lord of my life, was the moment my life began to change for the better. The journey began nearly 30 years ago, and today I am living, learning, and loving every day.

Today, I recognize and experience God's miracles wherever I am, in whatever state I find myself. I cherish every moment in this earthly body, aware that it is but a temporary vessel. As it gradually deteriorates, turning back to dust, it will fail me again, but my spirit soars now and into eternity because I have chosen to live, learn, and love, reminded that I can be better instead of bitter.