Embrace them. Smell them. Hold them. Squeeze them. Roll them around. Zest them. Extract the juice. Take every gorgeous bit from that citrusy ball of sunshine that you can and know that anything sour can be sweetened up or eventually will lose its potency, no matter how much it makes you pucker in the moment.
I know, it’s easy to say but not so easy to do. Sometimes we just want to say hell with it. We don’t want to be positive or motivated or happy or up or rah-rah, or nice or understanding or “over it”. Sometimes those lemons just suck more than anything else and we want to suck right along with them.
We all have those moments, or hours, or days or years. Take the year 1992. We were living in Hong Kong and traveled to Canada for our summer vacation. In Edmonton, my parents, Grandma, siblings, aunties, uncles, and cousins all gathered for a family day at our old stomping grounds where we picnicked and played and reminisced on the lifetime memories we had made while growing up there and were making in the moment.
Within eight weeks of that wonderful summer holiday, my Gran, my Husband’s Aunt, and my Father passed away. The day after his service, our cat died. 1992 didn’t hand us a mere basket of sour lemons; it was an entire orchard raining down on our heads.
I flew home along for my Gran’s celebration of life and it was the first time I’d ever had a panic or anxiety attack. I couldn’t breathe and thought I was going to have a heart attack.
It’s funny how our brains work. All I could think of was the Red Fox show “Sanford and Sons,” when he clutches his chest and says, “This is the big one, Elizabeth. I’m comin’ to join you.” Except in this case, it was Gran.
Every flight after that brought moments of not being able to catch my breath. I could feel my body revving up. It always started with a pause in my diaphragm, then in my lungs. The only way I got through those moments was to close my eyes, picture things that made me smile, and intentionally slow my breathing down; long inhale, long exhale, and repeat. It took many years and many, many flights for those anxious moments to go away. Perhaps growing older and more accepting of the circle of life helped them to disappear.
Regardless of how long our time is on this earth, life will give us lemons. The good news is that in the fullness of time and with resilience, we will be able to throw off the sting of their acridity, the lip smacking, mouth puckering, head shaking tartness that comes with them, and once again be able to smell and taste the delicious essence they have to offer.
Lemons boast a gorgeous, vibrant, yellow, thick rind that, in itself, can be delectable. That protective layer shields the delicate fruit inside. Carefully, we can remove some of that barrier and eventually make our way to the goodness of what lies beneath. We can discard and disregard the bitter pith and hardened pits and rediscover something that’s fresh, rejuvenating, and find out there is still so much to be savored and appreciated.
We can sip, tipple, swill or guzzle that ice-cold sweet lemonade we’ve created from those same sour lemons and move forward, renewed and revitalized after overcoming a challenging and draining experience.
I suppose the secret is in knowing that sour lemons will always find their way into our gardens, even if we didn’t plant the seeds ourselves. As with any painful experience, there is no timeline when it comes to healing. Yet over time, the intensity and sharpness will mellow and soften with age. Inevitably, lemons will decompose and vanish into the earth, or we can take them into our own hands and transform them into something we can once again learn to love and live with.
I recently returned from a family reunion in Tuscany. Our villa was peppered with lemon trees flourishing in pots throughout the gardens. While the lemons weren’t quite ripe for picking, we savoured and enjoyed amazing limoncello one evening as we we gathered around the family-sized outdoor dining table. We relished delectable fresh made pasta while Italian music serenaded us in the background.
We chatted and laughed and celebrated our family, and I felt truly fortunate to be united in love under the fading Tuscan Sun. There were no sour lemons to be had.
Love Kiki
Xo
“Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, for wise men say it is the wisest course.” — William Shakespeare
Pen & Ink Drawing of Lemon Tree
By Christine Hayden
Don’t forget to sign up to my KONNECT KLUB.
It’s free and you just might love reading my weekly Blog,
No Sour Pusses here!
Comments