When Life Hands You Lemons

This past weekend, I was on top of the world.

I attended a women’s coaching conference in Knoxville, surrounded by hundreds of brilliant, passionate women, each of us determined to lift ourselves and each other higher. The air was alive with laughter, sisterhood, and the rhythmic shuffle of heels on the dance floor as we celebrated our resilience to Boot Scootin' Boogie and the Electric Slide. It was an unforgettable time; soul-nourishing and inspiring. The truth is, I could live in the euphoria of that weekend forever. The joy, the dancing, the community of women who reminded me how powerful we are when we gather. But joy is not meant to be a hiding place. It’s a well we draw from when the road turns rocky.

Life has a funny way of balancing the mountaintops with the valleys.

After my flight home was canceled, I rented a car and made the eight-hour drive back to Richmond. While I decided to enjoy the scenery, by the time I arrived my body was stiff and aching, my back protesting every mile. And then, on Monday morning, came a diagnosis I hadn’t seen coming: Fuchs Dystrophy - a progressive eye disease that can lead to blindness and the need for a cornea transplant. I think it's appropriately named, don't you?

Just two weeks earlier, I had learned that my chronic back pain (pain I’d endured for over two years) was the result of two slipped vertebrae and a labral tear in my hip joint. Over years, I had told doctors something was deeply wrong. But test after test came back “normal.” My pain, they said, was exaggerated, perhaps even “in my head.” They couldn’t find anything “wrong.” Finally I found myself in the hands of a caring, believing specialist, holding proof in my hands from an MRI that my pain had been real all along. I'm determined to avoid surgery as long as possible through physical therapy and pain management, which is bringing relief.

On Monday, I’m having a 4^th round of surgery for skin cancer. It’s not terminal, thank God. But it’s a “thing” amongst all the others.

Of late, I’ve felt tired and old. Fragile. Washed up. Ready for pasture. It's been a perfect opportunity to lose faith.

And yet… I refuse. Because faith, I’ve learned, is not a just a soft pillow. It's a muscle. A muscle that must be exercised to grow, to strengthen, to sustain. When life hands you lemons, you don’t just squeeze them for juice. You hold them up to the light and ask, What am I meant to learn from this? That question changes everything. There truly is a silver lining to every cloud.

So, yes, I’ve been handed a few lemons lately. And yet, I know who holds me. I know who holds my future. And I know who holds my thoughts. Jesus reminds us to renew our minds and to take every thought captive. And so I shall.

Each morning, I will wake up and choose to align my thinking with the goodness of God. To see light even when shadows fall. To believe that this chapter - like every one before it - is still being written by the hands of Grace.

Because no diagnosis, no pain, no uncertainty will ever steal what’s already been promised: Hope. Healing. Grace. Goodness. And the quiet courage to begin again.