Part 3 to The Crying Room and The Bitterness Room
Emma looked at the gold plaque
on the door as she breathed heavily.
She grasped the doorknob to
The Anger Room and turned it. She was a little afraid of
what she might find inside. Should she enter? What was in
But then she could still feel
the hot anger boiling inside of her…of course she should
enter! She had every right to be angry!
No one cared about her! She
was having a horrible day and a horrible life!
The moment she entered the
room, she felt the click.
She looked down at her wrists.
Handcuffs?! Two big and frightening men quickly cuffed Emma's
hands behind her back and pulled her down a long hallway.
Emma began struggling with them, though she knew it was
pointless -- she could never get away!
She gasped as she saw the cells
-- dozens and dozens of prison cells lined the walls --
full of people with horrid faces -- faces of rage, of fury
-- of wrath, and evil passion! It was awful! Did they know
they looked that way?!
Emma no longer felt angry --
she felt desperate! She wanted to get out of there! But
as soon as she made that realization, the handcuffs were
removed and she was pushed into a dirty cell, and the heavy
iron door was locked behind her.
Despair hit her -- making it
hard to breathe.
"NO!" Emma yelled.
"NO, I WANT OUT OF HERE! I DON'T BELONG HERE! PLEASE,
SOMEONE HELP ME?!"
But of course no one responded.
And she couldn't see anyone -- her view was even blocked
from the grotesque faces of the other angry prisoners --
why had they looked so…evil, distorted?!
Then a terrible thought occurred
to her…wait! Did she look like them? Her fingers
flew to her face. She looked around for a mirror, then,
frantically opened her purse.
It was empty. The contents
of her purse were still in the bitterness room. She had
She looked around at her cell,
hoping for a place to sit. There was no place to relax here!
There was a bed of sorts -- with iron bars, but no mattress…a
dirty table, a filthy toilet. No blankets, no pillow…nothing
of comfort or rest.
A tray of food sat, awaiting
her, on the table. She was hungry -- maybe that would make
her feel better. She picked up a piece of bread and half-heartedly
took a bite. Tasteless.
And that's when the tears began
to flow. Hot, angry, bitter tears poured down Emma's face.
The self pity came in waves, with her tears.
What have I done to deserve
Where are my children? Where
is Joy?…I just need someone to hold me! No one ever takes
time out for me!
She wanted to hit something!
To fight someone! But she couldn't get out of this angry
prison! It was so entrapping! So secluding! So confining…
She began to pace, as she had seen the other prisoners doing.
But wait…she didn't want to be like them!
She stopped herself and slunk
to the floor.
She really did feel sick. A
nauseous, burning feeling was eating away at her stomach,
and she couldn't stop the angry tears. Bitterly, she wiped
them away with the backs of her hands. And she had no one
-- nothing…! Her hope was gone, her life was pointless!
She felt empty of all courage, all possibility, all perseverance…and,
she sobbed, even her purse was empty! She threw it at the
She closed her eyes, hoping
for sleep. Gradually it came, as all her problems and emotions
drifted mercifully away for a time…
What is The Anger Room? It
is a cell of regret and discontent -- a dirty dwelling of
hate and indignance. It is not a healing room. It changes
the countenance, drives others away, and entraps the prisoner
in loneliness and seclusion. The air is heavy there, thick
with ugliness, angry hopelessness, feelings of despair,
feelings of death.
And is there no way out?
Oh there's always a Way
out! Emma just doesn't realize it…yet.
Have you ever been to The Anger
When our Thai son left our
home several years ago, I was angry. So angry! Much of my
anger, believe it or not, was directed toward my son.
As we sat at the table, meeting
with the directors of the facility and filling out the necessary
paperwork for his entrance into the program, tears poured
from my eyes. I cried helplessly, in front of all of them.
And I hate to cry…especially in front of others.
What made matters worse was
that my son, too, began to cry. We both sat there sobbing,
holding hands, while this team of workers tried to get through
the paperwork necessary to admit my boy, my gift.
Why was I crying?
Well of course it was the saddest
thing I had ever done. I was signing a paper saying that
my son would be living somewhere else. I wanted my son to
live with me! I wanted everything to just be ok -- all these
problems to just go away! This was breaking my son's heart,
and I knew it -- I just wanted to pull him out of the room
and run away with him -- never returning.
It was awful.
As these board members asked
me routine questions, I could barely form the words without
sobbing. Ken had to answer most of the questions and do
most of the work. I was an emotional mess.
And I was angry. Believe it
or not, I blamed my son.
Why can't he just stop this
bad behavior?! He knows what's right! He can tell us the
difference between right and wrong…so WHY CAN'T HE JUST
DO IT?! We have asked him -- begged him to change over and
over and over! And never any results! This is his fault!
There had even been a time,
before this awful day, that I had sat down on the floor,
next to my son, and laid my head in his lap. I had pleaded
"Please, son…please! You
must stop this! If you continue this behavior, you cannot
remain here…I'm begging you! I'm your mother, and I love
you! I don't want you to leave! Please, change!"
He had said he would…but he
hadn't. I believe he had really wanted to…but he didn't,
So here we were, in this horrible
situation -- forced to do it in order to protect our other
…and I was angry.
I knew the anger was wrong,
but at the time, I did not realize the Way out.
As time went by, the anger
became a dark cloud surrounding me. It was always there,
and I knew it.
To ease the anger, I determined
to write my son every day, every week, telling of my love
and commitment to him as his mom…but I never heard from
This made me angrier.
I was truly in a place of imprisonment…my
own personal cell. It invaded my sleep, my quiet times,
my time with my husband and other children. It shook my
confidence. It led to such a negative outlook on everything
I was doing…it led to depression.
I felt that no one knew my
mother's heart, and what I was going through. After all,
I knew no one else going through this. The enemy (the well-dressed
man) began to whisper in my ear…
You are the only mother
in the world who would ever do this. Do you know anyone
else who gives up a child? You are the worst mother of all.
Why did you adopt? You can't even keep an adopted child?!
What's wrong with you?! And you are angry with your son?!
Are you sure you're even a child of God?! You have ruined
this boy's life…
I began to long for a way out
of this prison. I didn't know HOW to get out, but I wanted
In my desperation, in my sorrow,
in my anger…I began to pray a simple prayer of acknowledgement
Lord, please!! I am angry, so angry! I know it's wrong,
but I don't know how to stop it! Take away this anger! Only
you can heal me!
Every day, for a very long
time, I breathed this prayer. I expected healing right away!
I read story after story in the New Testament where Jesus
healed the blind, the sick, the demon-possessed, the crippled.
I began to understand that God heals individuals differently.
I began to realize that some of these men and women were
not healed right away! And at times, Jesus required an act
of obedience before healing!
I wasn't being healed immediately.
This anger had become an illness
in my life -- a debilitating, terminal illness! I wanted
to be healed, desperately!
So, I persevered in prayer
and sought to deepen my walk with Him through His Word and
Do you need healing in your
Are you in The Anger Room?
There is truly only one Way
out. Are you seeking the Way?
man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that
Join us next time as
Emma discovers the Way out…and beyond. Joy is coming soon.
is the man (and woman) who perseveres under trial, because
when he has stood the test,
he will receive the crown of life that God has promised
to those who love Him.
© 2011. Faith Matters by Lygia Lovelace. All rights