When Life Gives You Lemons

Two years ago at a Christmas party for our church staff, I participated in a White Elephant gift exchange. I’ll start by saying right off the bat that I broke my own rule. Whenever these types of gift exchanges occur, I make a point to only contribute gifts I would want myself. This way, if none of the other gifts look appealing to me, I can at least strive to take my own gift home. It’s a selfish rule, but it’s served me well. I’ve treated myself to many a Starbucks drink as a result of a gift card I worked hard to ensure was in front of me when the final round of exchanges ended. (Sorry, not sorry.) But in this particular instance, I fell victim to the rabbit hole that is Pinterest and found an especially amusing idea for a White Elephant gift I just had to try. I purchased a box of Life cereal, emptied it, filled it with lemons, and attached a recipe for lemonade to the top. (In case you haven’t had your coffee yet today, let me help you by explaining that my gift was a nod to the saying, “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.”) Brilliant, right? I’ve always preferred the saying, “When life gives you lemons, trade them for coffee,” but I digress.

As the gift exchange portion of the evening commenced, I set my eyes on the Starbucks gift cards making their way around the circle of party-goers. (Someone always brings one.) Every round had different rules (pass to your left, pass 3x to your right if you can finish this Christmas carol- blah, blah, blah, just gimme the Starbucks). I worked diligently with my friends in the group, making eye contact and animated facial expressions to make sure they understood their only goal was to put the Starbucks gift card in my hands. The holidays are all about giving after all.

After multiple, stress-inducing rounds of passing and stealing gifts, I breathed a sigh of relief when it seemed the game had come to an end. I was holding my coveted gift card. I could almost smell the gingerbread latte. And then, out of nowhere, (and for no good reason, I might add), our Senior Pastor began one more round. I watched my ticket for free lattes leave my hands and get passed down the line.

One guess what I ended up with. Oh, the irony. I’m only slightly ashamed to admit that I threw a minor tantrum when the box of lemons made it to my hands. I may have thrown them on the floor, letting them spill all over. I may have even stamped my foot. Our Senior Pastor said something like, “I would’ve loved to get the box of lemons! I could freeze the fresh lemon juice and use it for months!” I wanted to freeze those lemons all right, freeze them and chuck them at Mr. Positivity over there. Suffice it to say it was not my finest hour. (I’d like to think if my children were in attendance at that party I would’ve handled things differently, but I can’t say that with certainty.)

My husband will tell you spontaneity and surprises are not my thing. Poor guy learned this fast and hard in the early years of our relationship. I effectively squelched any romantic tendencies he had by grimacing and fretting every time he took over the planning for our dates. I ended up enjoying myself every time, but he soon learned “flying by the seat of our pants” was not the best way to win me over. (I’m grateful he’s forgiven me for this character flaw and that he still romantically pursues me in ways that cause me far less anxiety.)

Not only do I like to plan, to be in control, but I like when my plans go the way I expected. I don’t handle disappointment well. When my expectations are shattered, I struggle to cope. So you can imagine how well I’m holding up during this season of a pandemic. My list of grievances is long, as I’m sure yours is too. So many things are not going the way we planned. I put on a brave face for my kids because after all, I went to them to learn and believe that every loss is an opportunity even if I’m pouting over my wine glass after they’ve gone to bed each night. But the thing is, how we handle disappointment reflects the condition of our hearts. I confess my heart has been truly selfish.

I read somewhere that "expectation is the root of all heartache." Isn’t that the truth? When I look back at the times in my life I’ve been truly, profoundly heartbroken, it’s because my expectations had not been met. The first breakup that really devastated me was with a man I was so sure would end up like my husband. The conclusion of that relationship effectively killed my well-thought-out plans for my future and resulted in months of crying over romantic comedies and throwing chocolates at the tv screen. I didn’t get what I thought I deserved. I look at my husband today and thank God I didn’t. (Cue Garth Brooks, “Unanswered Prayers”)

Many years later when my husband and I began the process of starting our family through adoption, the disappointments pummeled us like waves. In less than 18 months we were matched with six different birth moms, each time with the hope and expectation that we would end up with a baby in our arms. Each one fell through, for various reasons. Each time we came home to an empty house, an empty nursery. I’ve never experienced such deep heartbreak. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Match number seven was the one that gave us our daughter, Providence Joy, and no pain has ever been so worth it.

Isaiah 55:8 reminds us the Lord’s ways are not our ways. His ways are higher than ours. How different would our lives be if everything went our way? How much would we miss out on if everything went according to plan? Maybe I would have been happy with the man I thought I would marry nearly 20 years ago. I may have loved the baby I thought we were meant to have in that first match. But would that have been God’s best for me? I don’t think so. I believe the life I have now is His best, and if I hadn’t trusted His ways and His plans amid my deepest disappointments, I wouldn’t have much to write about.

It’s okay to grieve when our expectations are dashed. Trusting God doesn’t mean we need to be happy about it all the time. But we can take comfort in knowing He’s close to us when we’re brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18), and after the tears comes rejoicing (Psalm 30:5). Releasing our expectations is hard. We must pray honestly about how hard it is. No truth is too much for God to hear. We can cast all our cares on Him and He will sustain us (Psalm 55:22). Disappointment forces us to trust God’s plan. Believe me when I say there is no one we can trust more, not even ourselves (especially not ourselves most days). We can trust Him because He assures us He will work all things for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28). Letting go of our expectations frees us to enjoy our circumstances for what they are, instead of what we think they should be.

Our daily grind can be filled with unmet expectations. I know mine often is. The good news is God can still be glorified in the disappointment. The apostle Paul said it best in Romans 8:18: “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”