“I am bitter, Father C.”, I told him. I was recently talking to my parish’s priest/pastor, and I told him how bitter I was. I had been in this sinful state for about a year – or more. This time, it was consuming me.
“What was that?”
“I am bitter. I am full of bitterness and I can’t get rid of it. I don’t want to be like this anymore.”
Thomas, strapped in his car seat nearby, looked at me happily. He thought his Mama was a happy Mama, not a bitter Mama.
This has been my reality over the past few months (year?). I think it all began to surface due to the ignorance displayed by my Facebook friends on their posts around the presidential race/election. Words were typed that I personally don’t stand for.
My mind raced for months. Forget it. Why try to change their mind? Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, anyways. Should I maybe tell my story? Not all Mexicans are rapists. Not all Mexicans are illegals. I went to school legally and I am working legally, and I am not even an American citizen. Not all Caucasians are racists, though. My husband is White. He understands where I come from. Does he really, though? Why is she/he posting that about Blacks? Why is she/he posting that about Mexicans? She/he knows me personally and they know I am Mexican. Well, this is awkward. Whatever, I’ll give everyone the benefit of doubt. I’ll let them think what they want to think. When, exactly, does education trump ignorance?
Then, my son was born. This was the happiest moment of my life. I was happy. I am happy. We are far away from my family, though, and this brought even more resentment into my life. Bitterness was telling me that Thomas wouldn’t grow up knowing my culture. He wouldn’t grow up loving his maternal grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins. He would reject speaking Spanish to me or any of my family because he would be ashamed. Thomas would refuse to tell his friends he was half Mexican and that his Mama was a full Mexican.
Soon, the “baby blues” (anxiety, not depression) took over my thoughts, my words, my actions towards my husband, my family, my friends, even work.
“And what is bitterness accomplishing for you?”, Father C asked.
“Nothing. The worst, or best, part is, no one knows this. People don’t even know I am bitter. I am being a total hypocrite.”
This Lent, with the help of God, I want to give up bitterness. Not chocolate, not soda, not time on my phone. I’ve been better nowadays, but I want to get rid of this sin for good. I want to be a better Wife and Mama, not a bitter Wife and Mama.
Let no one caught in sin remain, inside the lie of inward shame, we fix our eyes upon the cross, and run to Him who showed great love.
And bled for us. Freely You've bled for us.
How can I pray for you? I am taking these 40 days until Easter (not counting Sundays) to pray and try to comprehend some more what Jesus paid for me, for us. Feel free to send me an email. Would you pray for me?