I think I Might Be A Cranberry...

by Gittel Fruma

Six years ago, on a crisp afternoon in Sacramento, a tired mother unearths a bag of cranberries in the bottom of the produce drawer and has a revelation destined to carry her through 2020...

I recently realized my deepest thoughts and most treasured aspirations have been polluted by pride. While mulling this over and cooking a late pot of cranberry sauce, I had a revelation. I think I might be a cranberry.

“What’s that you say, crazy lady?” I know, I know. But really. Here’s how I reached this stunning conclusion…

I impulsively bought this bag of cranberries and, having never cooked with them before, let them lounge in the fridge for a week. Now they were about to go bad. There’s no time like the present, so let’s make some sauce!

I read the package for the cranberries, which included a simple recipe. I was instructed to let the berries simmer until they start to pop. I thought, “Ok, popping sounds fun.” Sure enough, no sooner did my overly ripe cranberries hit the simmering pot of freshly squeezed orange juice, wild honey, cardamom, and clove, they started a-burstin’. Then it hit me: “Sweet gracious, a cranberry I am.”

Before I sat down to write this, I thought about what’s been rattling around my head the last few months. The one thing I kept coming back to was a recent interaction I had with someone close to me. It started off as passive aggression, led to a huge screaming match (thank God, they are a rare occasion in my life), then a quiet, humbling conversation. At the end of everything, I felt hurt, vulnerable, and exposed.

There I was, in the simmering saucepan of life, under pressure and overheated, and I finally popped. I lost it. I felt myself unwittingly leaking all over the place—emotions, thoughts, half-finished sentences, tears, possibly snot—and I felt horribly bare. This conversation has haunted me for the last several weeks. I find myself thinking about it when I’m washing dishes. I have strange dreams about this person whom I dearly love. I keep thinking I want to pull away and protect myself.

It’s not an easy thing to live among people. We are broken, hurtful, and self-centered. But God is love. Yeshua set very high standards for what a community should look like. It didn’t look like an apathetic “Hi, how are you?” on Sunday. It didn’t involve limp handshakes at Thursday night Bible study. It didn’t prescribe selfish self-preservation or entitled attitudes of injury. Messiah called us to Grace and Love.

I am a cranberry. This person is my fellow cranberry. Together we live in a simmering pot. This could be the most idiotic metaphor for my life I have ever thought of, or it could be the beginning of a new understanding of my life in Christ. Now that I have popped, and this person has popped as well, here we are with our proverbial cranberry guts spilled out in glorious and sweet fellowship. We can’t separate ourselves anymore. We might as well give in to the fact that we are already one in Christ and we may as well be one in heart. Why wait for the next life? The Kingdom of Heaven is here. I can’t put myself back together or separate myself from this person. I am not supposed to. No one ever did anything in the power of the Holy Spirit by “having it together.” Fake-it-till-you-make-it was not a mandate of God. It is, however, how the majority of us make it through our lives, especially regarding our relationships.

I am good at being on my own. There was a time when I prided myself on my ability to need no one. Then I let someone in. And someone else. And someone else after that. The more I have opened my heart, the more there is inside. It’s a cliche that’s often repeated and rarely understood. You have to give love to get love and it won’t run out. I don’t love this person because they’re perfect. I don’t love them because they’re always right or always nice. I don’t even love them because they love me. I love this person because I can’t help but love them. And I pray the help never comes.

Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins. (1 Peter 4:8 ESV)

Gittel Fruma came to believe in Jesus after growing up as an Orthodox Jew. Gittel lives with her husband and son in Clearwater, Florida. She is currently working on a book about her testimony and recording her first album. You can find her at her website GittelFruma. com or on Facebook at @GittelFrumaMusic.

Gittel Fruma

Gittel Fruma