When life hands me lemons....

...I look at the sugar....look back at lemons....look at the cute glasses....look back at lemons....




and then proceed to jump up and down on them like a wild gorilla, screaming hysterically...


go pick them up, throw them forcefully onto any available hard surface, and beat them to a pulp with all my might (4 letter words might be uttered)....


hurl them at any poor soul within 2 feet of me and blame them profusely for the lemons....



cry, snot and blubber while simultaneously running back and forth over them with my car....



scoop up remains, slap into glasses and slam it down in front of my poor family for dinner....



cry and whine more at said poor family for not helping me clean up afterward.






That was, in a (somewhat dramatic) nutshell, the scene at our house last night.



Um, "not pretty" doesn't exactly capture it just right.



UH-GLY.


God is squeezing us and what's coming out is just short of The Wicked Witch of the West. And ya'll? Things didn't end up so good for her.


(I've actually had the thought that I should put one of those bumper stickers on my van that says "My other ride is a broomstick." You know, right beside the one already on there that says "I love my family.")


And honestly, the sad thing is that I'm really surprised at what's coming out of me. I don't want to be surprised by my sin, but somewhere along the line I've developed a pretty high opinion of myself. I don't mean this as a generic confession, but I'm really very prideful. I think that I'm right 98% of the time. I think I have the best plan. I think I am the most rational. I think I have very fair expectations. I think if people would just listen to me things would be SO much better. I think I deserve better than what I'm getting. I think all of my anger, frustration and moodiness is valid and justifiable.


Spend one day with our family and the evidence of this is clear and easy to see. And, though I wish it weren't true, it usually takes some awful, dramatic night like last night for me to really see how bad it is.


And this whole little thing called marriage and parenting brings it ALL out. Hard circumstances added to that creates a pressure cooker explosion that spills over into a nasty, burned up mess.


Sanctification hurts.


And I've hurt the people I love the most in this world. I'm thankful my boys are still young enough to not really get why mommy's turned crazy (and hopefully won't remember).



But God has been kind to remind me today that sanctification is so good. It is life-giving. It is a reminder that He's working in me. Evidence that He hasn't given up.

"For the LORD disciplines those he loves, and he punishes each one he accepts as his child."

And all of this brings me to say with great exclamation:

THANK YOU, LORD, FOR THE GOSPEL!!!!

He is patient and kind to me. He understands my weaknesses. He doesn't leave me.


He forgives me! He still loves me!!!



Today kinda feels like the day after a big storm. Yes, there's still debris laying around and much work to be done, but there's that clarity and freshness and almost sweetness that only comes after you've been drenched.



I'm not entirely sure why I felt like writing that out except that it's somewhat therapeutic for me...


and I want to know if anyone else out there has had their own hissy fit with the lemons. :)




(Perhaps we can encourage each other and help each other make good use of those lemons.

Lemon drop, anyone?)