Bitterness & unforgiveness ... the slow death

This is the view from my kitchen window. My neighbor died in May. She was 76. Her house is falling down. It is amazing how much she taught me about forgiveness by not forgiving.

She got into a fight with her cousin over a tree in her backyard, and never spoke to her cousin again, even though her cousin tried repeatedly to mend the relationship. She only spoke to her the last week of her life and that was just to have her cousin run errands for her while she was in the hospital. She remained hostile towards her cousin up to the very end.

She got into a fight with the neighbor, her pastor, another relative, another neighbor, the mailman, anyone over something minor, and never spoke to them again. One-by-one she wrote off everyone in her life.

I came into her life on Easter Sunday 2000. I had her over for Easter dinner. She didn't know what to make of me, but her curiosity is what brought her to dinner. I was not a threat because I was just an acquaintance. My time with her was just a wave "hello", a short trip to the mall to get something or to the cemetery to place some flowers on the graves, nothing too personal.

Her final month of life she had no one left to call on for help except myself and her hairdresser. We were listed as her next of kin at the hospital. When she died her hairdresser received a sympathy card from the hospital, not her family. Her family tried for years to reach out to her, fix the house, have her over for holiday meals, but my neighbor wanted nothing to do with them. Bitterness had taken root and twisted its way through her so that everything she saw, and every action was interpreted as an offense towards her.

I tried talking with my neighbor about bitterness and forgiveness, but she would only change the subject. The only time I could get her to say anything positive was when she spoke of her cat. She loved her cat. My neighbor had a very hard childhood, and chose to shut the world out to stay safe. She allowed her cat to be her only companion. I am glad that at least her cat was able to be saved from the house and now has a very good home.

I have seen how ugly and how lonely bitterness can be. I also see how much we need each other. Forgiveness is so important. We will always offend each other. We are human. But we need to forgive, as Christ has forgiven us.
Jesus died on the cross to forgive us of our sins. We have been forgiven of so much. How can we not forgive others of so little? I prayed with my neighbor as she lay in her hospital bed days before she died. I don't know if she heard or understood me, but I told her that we need a Savior. I told her how we need to ask for forgiveness. I told her how our sins have offended a holy God, and the only way to get into heaven is by the cross.

I look at her house now and just see sadness, bitterness, and loneliness. The view from my window is not pretty, not because the house is falling apart, but because of the person who once lived there who missed out on so much life. A person who held onto anger more than love, a person who had no hope, a person who was lost. There is nothing pretty about bitterness.

Her house will probably be plowed over soon, erasing any evidence that she was ever there. My neighbor probably never realized the profound effect she had on me. I pray that I will never forget the lesson she taught me about forgiveness.