When Life Gives You Lemons

For eighteen months I scrutinized the limes on my lemon tree for a glimpse of yellow.

I had no idea how long each precious lemon would take to grow, but considering I was told it would take two years for the fruit to develop and it was my second year, I watched intently.

In mid-summer I noticed the first break through yellow and declared, I had indeed gotten the lemon tree I wanted.

I protected it from foul balls in our yard baseball games all summer and when the temps dropped enough that we had to bring it in, my husband and son helped me carry it into the house and put it in our school room. The only room with temporary space for a lemon tree. But since, I really love this tree, its inconvenient presence is easily overlooked.

I was so excited about the final summer harvest when I plucked those six lemons, I already had a recipe chosen for its glorious fate.

The early lemons that took two years to finally turn yellow were always lemons, just underdeveloped and immature.

Matthew, one of Jesus’ disciples, writes an analogy of fruit and men. It’s a beautiful way to see how you can properly determine the integrity of one’s character.

15 “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves. 16 You will know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes from thornbushes or figs from thistles? 17 Even so, every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. 18 A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit. 19 Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. 20 Therefore by their fruits you will know them. Matthew 7:15-20

I’d also planted some other fruit trees I’d gotten on sale the same summer I’d gotten my lemon tree. Three died, one was run over by a lawn mower and the fifth, a pear tree, shows little hope it will survive.

There’s been zero fruit from those five trees, so my harvest of six lemons is quite exciting.

I allowed the lemons to linger on the tree an extra week because I was busy with Thanksgiving festivities and wanted to have the time to use them.

My sons and I were in our school room and one of them needed a book off a higher shelf. To help him reach it he decided to use the pot of the lemon tree to give him a boost to the top of the cabinet. He didn’t realize the pot wouldn’t be strong enough to support his weight and it tipped over breaking one half of the Y branch on the tree.

My initial unguarded response was to cry. My sweet, shocked son was broken-hearted to think he’d caused me sadness and destroyed the lemon tree.

But like all C-rated aspiring horticulturists, I recovered and told him I knew just how to fix it. Duct tape.

Being a mom is hard. I teach my children their words matter. The tone of their voice, the intention of their hearts, the actions of their hands. It’s their FRUIT. The products in their life that illustrates their character. It matters how I respond when I’m unguarded. And it matters what you produce in your life. It’s your character. It’s your fruit.

It’s been two weeks and there’s fresh blooms on the broken limbs of the lemon tree. The duct tape is holding and my lemon curd, created from only four of the lemons, was enough to share with others.

With my remaining summer harvest, I think I will have my sons help me bake lemon slices to make ‘Wassel’ Christmas tree ornaments.

When life gives you lemons, sour grapes, bad apples or rotten tomatoes, it’s important what you choose to do with them. You will be known by your fruit. (Matthew 7:16a)