WHEN LIFE HANDS YOU LEMONS, MAYBE THE BEST THING YOU CAN DO IS …
She had the kind of giggle that could soften marble, and she played it with as much aplomb as she did abandonment. She couldn’t have been much older than two years and she walked behind her daddy like the princess of the condiments aisle.
She would point to the jars of pickles, announce to all, “pick-o-o-ohs,” and giggle. She would point to the olives and declare, “ah-libs,” and giggle again. With royal command, she pointed to and proclaimed, “catch-em-up, momstard, yell-ish,” as the ketchup, mustard and relish stood in respect, and she giggled. “Yell-ish,” she repeated, this time a little louder, and by this time her giggling was joined by at least half a dozen adults who seemed mesmerized by her.
We parted ways at the end of the aisle as she and her dad headed down the bread aisle and I scurried through the canned goods, a smile still anchored to my cheeks, and one that would return every time I remembered the Condiments Princess.
And I chuckled when I heard, from two aisles over, “Mommy wants holy wheat bread, daddy, not white.”
But the best moment of the morning, was when we were in the produce section. There she was, carrying about seven or eight lemons in her arms. Suddenly, there they were, rolling on the floor (perhaps giggling?). Her little arms went skyward, like a referee signaling a touchdown, as she said, “Uh-oh daddy, I dropped my lemons.”
“That’s okay honey,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.” And her face lit up with a huge smile.
“I dropped my lemons,” she said to a lady passing by, “My daddy’s gonna take care of it.”
And she giggled.
I learned an important lesson that day. Sometimes when life hands you lemons, maybe the best thing you can do is to lift your hands to the heavens, and tell God, “Uh-oh Daddy, I dropped my lemons.” Then trust Him to take care of it.
Oh. And don’t forget to giggle.