When God Gives You Lemons…

I have a confession to make. 

I don't love lemons. 

I don't even totally like lemons. 

If I'm completely honest, I really dislike the smell of lemons.

It's my mom's fault. It all started when I was young (younger than 7?) and developed a series of strange rashes and skin...things (they really don't have a name--they were weird). Most of them seemed pretty harmless and would scab over but didn't really hurt so my mom didn't worry about them. But there was one rash--the size of a quarter--that lived on my chin just below my mouth and it was not pretty. I don't actually remember it hurting or itching, but it was red, bumpy, large, and obvious which made it offensive. I guess that's why my mom decided it was her mission to rid me of that rash. 

I really don't know why, how, or when, but at some point my mom decided that the best way to eliminate the rash was to treat it with lemon essential oil every night. I was dubious but my mom was pretty sure this would take care of the rash quickly so we tried it that night and let me tell you, you have not known stinging, burning, itching pain until you've put straight lemon oil on a mystery rash. It was worse than the full strength hydrogen peroxide on my warts or the salt on canker sores. I was more than dubious after that first night and I let my mom know that I was not convinced she'd chosen the right treatment (maybe it didn't even need treatment!). Unfortunately, my mom was not one to give up just because of a little pain so night after night for days and then weeks I followed my treatment plan and doused that rash in lemon oil. 

To this day I cannot tell you if that lemon oil did any good. As a kid I remember thinking it was the worst thing in the world. I can also tell you that the lemon oil dried out that rash like crazy and made it scaly and itchy all the time. I don't remember what eventually cleared up the rash or how long it took. What I do remember, vividly and distinctly, is the smell of lemon. And I hated it. 

I could not look at a lemon, smell a lemon, eat a lemon, or eat anything with a hint of lemon for years. The very thought made me nauseous and sent shivers of phantom pain up my spine. So there it is. I dislike the smell, have a tenuous relationship with the taste, and definitely don't love lemons.

How's that for an earth shattering confession? :)

Hopefully this confession means absolutely nothing to most of you. Unfortunately, and very apologetically, I know it means a lot to one friend who faithfully reads this blog. 

See, when I was a teenager (years after I'd given up hope that I'd ever like lemons again), one of our family friends decided he was going to grow lemons in his greenhouse. And he did quite successfully. And like every other normal person, when he had success he wanted to share it and have his friends share in his joy about it. And I guess, knowing that I liked farm fresh, organic food he decided I would be the perfect person to gift one of the very first lemons he ever grew. 

He gave it to me as a birthday present. It was, objectively, a beautiful lemon--large, bright pure yellow, firm, and it smelled...like a lemon. I was stuck. I was surrounded by family members who knew I didn't like lemons being given the very first, best lemon from a treasured lemon tree by someone who did not know that my love of fresh produce did not extend to lemons. What was I supposed to do? Tell him to his eager, excited, happy face that I hate lemons and to please take the lemon away before I got sick? Of course not! Like any socially acceptable human I took the lemon, thanked my friend, and told him I absolutely loved lemons and couldn't wait to try this one. 

After the guests left I took the lemon and put it on the counter and stared at it. I remember my family surrounding me asking me what I was going to do with the lemon. I shrugged and kept staring. Two of my siblings offered to eat the lemon for me. My mom said she could use it as a sauce for salmon. I shook my head and stared. I was well and truly stuck. Yes, I knew I could easily pawn that lemon off on a willing family member but I knew that the next time I saw my friend he would ask if I'd liked the lemon and then I would have to either tell the disappointing truth, or lie. Obviously I'd already lied, but somehow there was a difference between lying to graciously accept a gift and lying about enjoying said gift. I couldn't lie a second time. 

Which meant I had to eat that lemon. 

Over the next few days the lemon sat in my fridge while I worked up the courage to eat a lemon for the first time in over 10 years. I eventually decided that rather than prolonging the torture by using the lemon to flavor a dessert or dinner I would just slice it up and eat it whole--peel and all (it was organic and I couldn't waste a perfectly good peel!). I sliced it into quarters, placed a whole wedge in my mouth, and chewed. 

It tasted nothing like lemon oil smells. 

It was a unique mix of sweet and tart, acidic and soothing, crisp and juicy.

It was the best lemon I had ever tasted. I ate the whole thing in one sitting. 

In the years since, lemons and I have reached a truce (we had to, my friend kept giving me lemons!). I still can't stand how they smell. I can't stand lemon scented anything. If anyone is juicing lemons I try to avoid breathing for a while. I still struggle with anything lemon flavored (lemon flavoring tends to use the oil). But! I do eat lemons. I enjoy the occasional plain lemon slice and I'm especially fond of lemon water (I've decided that lemon and strawberry water is the best drink ever invented), after all, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

Well, about a month ago I was at a birthday party for my friend and we started talking about gardens and greenhouses. He mentioned excitedly that his lemon tree had a few lemons on it that were almost ready, did I want one? What was I supposed to say? Of course I said yes, if he had an extra lemon I would take it. Happy, he led me out to his greenhouse in the middle of winter and told me to pick the best lemon from his tree (once again, the largest and ripest). I couldn't help feeling a little guilty as my friend picked that lemon off the tree. I, the person who doesn't really like lemons, was once again given the best and only lemon.

As we walked back inside I stared at the lemon in my hand and said, "You know, I asked God to give me a lemon the other day. This is an answer to prayer." 

My friend was very confused and said, "You asked for a lemon? Like...you wanted a trial or something?"

I looked up shocked, "What? No! Lemons are good things. No, I was really asking God for a literal lemon. I needed one and I told Him so and here it is." 

Well, the other birthday guests stole my friend’s attention when we made it back inside so the conversation ended there, but two things stuck with me about that interaction.

1. My friend, when confronted with the bizarre thought that I talk to God about lemons, assumed I meant the derogatory descriptor "lemon" meaning unsatisfactory or defective.

2. I--I--said that 'lemons are good things.' And I meant it. I also meant it when I said it was an answer to prayer and a gift from God. I really did need a lemon. A literal, lemon scented, lemony lemon. And I wanted that lemon enough to ask God for it. Seven-year-old me would be speechless.

I climbed in my car to go home that night and almost burst into hysterical, disbelieving laughter. Since when did I start thinking of lemons as gifts from God instead of curses and stumbling blocks? The very idea that lemons might be good is so contrary to common thought these days. That advice to "make lemonade" is well-meaning and intended to make people search for the positive, spin their circumstances, and take something they don't like and turn it into something they do. 

At the expense of the lemons. 

No one who quotes that proverb ever sounds grateful for the lemons. No, we'd much rather not have the lemons than have to pull out the juicer and work those lemons into lemonade. Lemons are a hassle. They're distasteful. Life would be better without lemons.

Except that life wouldn't be life without lemons! I suppose we've forgotten that without lemons we wouldn't have lemonade. Or strawberry lemon water. Or lemon slices. Or sunshiny lemon color. Or friends who like to give us lemons. That would be a tragedy. 

Without lemons we wouldn't have lemons and I have a confession to make--

I don't love lemons. I don't even totally like lemons. If I'm completely honest I sometimes struggle when I'm around lemons. But I enjoy lemons. I appreciate lemons. I feel loved when I'm given lemons. 

So when God gives me lemons...well, what am I supposed to do but say, "Thank you. I love lemons and I can't wait to try this one."

And sometimes it's actually true.