When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. Or freeze the juice into cubes, clean your grill, maybe even bake lemon bars or other zesty treats. Or you share them. Perhaps you have so many lemons you do it all.
Growing up, we never had a lemon tree or a neighbor overloaded with lemons, but I do remember making lemonade with my mom in Spain. I don’t recall if my brothers and I told Trish that we wanted lemonade or whether it was actually her idea to make a batch to steer us away from the sugary Fanta drink we clamored for. It was likely cheaper to just make it ourselves, and most of the decisions we made were certainly based on cost.
Either way, we bought a bunch of lemons. After making the last adjustments to attain the perfect sweetness, I impatiently waited for the lemonade to cool enough to put into the fridge. Time dragged as I continued to wait for it to chill just enough to fill my tall glass and quench both my impatience and my craving. I can still taste its refreshing sweet and tangy goodness on those hot summer days in Spain. How I loved biting into the small juice sacs and feeling the tiny tart explosions in my mouth. But what I remember even more fondly is my amazement that you could actually make lemonade. At the age of 7, it was baffling to me that I––and with only three ingredients––could actually turn lemons into such a delicious lemonade that was possibly even better than any of the commercially produced beverages at the stores. I found it extraordinary! I didn’t realize it then, but there were so many lessons Trish was teaching me when we made lemonade together. Besides understanding the relationship between an ingredient and a finished dish or product, and of course the very basic cooking skills required to make the tasty beverage, I was also learning that I could do things and make things.
And it turned out that life gave us a heck of a lot of lemons, and our family was always making lemonade together. Figuratively, that is. More often, it was out of less than desirable lemons that others might have just thrown away. But when it’s all you have, you make do. It became second nature for me to look on the bright side, to try to improve unfavorable situations that came our way, and to think through ways to achieve different outcomes.
As we start August, I enter into a month where I’d usually be going back into the classroom to welcome excited, nervous, or sleepy teenagers, but I’m not. Rather than sending both of my sons off for their first day of school, only one will come home to the annual “Tell me everything about your first day!” interrogation. The other is moving away for college. And in the middle of the month, when I’d usually be calling Trish on her birthday, instead I’ll be commemorating the second year of her passing. So much is changing.
In the flux, I continue to make space to recognize and grieve old and new losses, and cultivate new beginnings. Last year, on the day that commemorates Trish’s birth and death, I celebrated her through small acts of generosity. She had always been generous with her time, her heart, and even her last few dollars to those she felt needed them more than she did. It was simply her way of being. After carefully folding up each bill into quarters—–the way she always would—–I gave them away to strangers on the center dividers and sidewalks. I could hear her familiar words, “I’m sorry it’s not much. I wish I could give you more, but I just don’t have it.” There was so much kindness and empathy in those words. I felt a coziness in embodying Trish, and felicity from these brief connections where I exchanged smiles and words with strangers. This year for Trish’s birthday, I’ll evoke another essential quality of hers to honor her life, remember her, feel her warmth, and spread goodness into the world.
Remembering to make lemonade when life gives me lemons has helped me respond to life’s challenges and embrace whatever comes my way. You could say it was a lifesaver during my childhood—–a reminder that we have a choice about how we view any situation that is either hurled at us or that we stumble upon on our own. More than just encouraging blind optimism, it’s an empowering reminder that ultimately we determine what action we take. Often, there are things we can do to improve our situation. But if life gives you lemons and you do nothing, you’ll just still have lemons. And eventually moldy lemons.
I’ll admit I’ve been incredibly curious about whether you could use that mold to make vegan blue cheese. I may have already tried it if I hadn’t managed to get such a beautiful veining on my first batch of vegan cheese, or if I wasn’t a little worried that the mold could disrupt the microbiome in my gut. For now, I’ll stick to making lemonade out of the lemons. Hopefully, my sons will join me in making the next batch and they’ll always remember that when life gives them lemons, they have choices.
When the lemonade has cooled, we’ll toast to the bittersweet occasions August has in store. ❤️❤️
What do you do, or have you done, to help you manage life’s challenges?
I’d love to hear your thoughts! Until then, I wish you moments of great clarity so that you may see past the daily clutter, quiet the noise, and savor what truly matters to you. Thank you for reading!
August’s little joy
Kathleen Ryan uses found and handmade objects and semi-precious stones to make oversized, bejeweled, moldy fruit sculptures. The materials she uses are in stark contrast to the subjects they represent, and her art touches on the themes of waste, consumption, power, and sexuality. Ryan explains, “I’m interested in using the psychological weight of the actual material.” Here’s a video of her making Sour Sparkle and you can find more of her work on her Instagram.
Response from July’s Newsletter Question
What are the actions or simple joys that help you find purpose or meaning in life?
Sorry folks, this question didn’t get any responses. From teaching, I’ve learned that this is often a result of a problematic question or poor timing. Hoping this month’s question elicits more response!
ICYMI
Newsletters: July: What do a tube of spit, a tree, and the U.S. flag have in common?,June: Seasons of life
Joy snacking: dahlias, concrete joy, espresso, squirrels
Scrapbook (NEW!): Our brown van
Other posts: "I quietly hoard memoirs”
What I do when lemons arrive is I think about everything beautiful in my life. It's so easy to get swept up in the problems of the city I live in. Instead I look at the beautiful trees, foliage, insects, animals, birds, clouds and the kind people who live here.
Your mom had such an ability to see the bright side of life and you do too.