What He Can Do With Lemons

She wore blue every day but she was buried in pink. She took painstaking care of her fingernails and piled her hair in a dizzying intricate pattern my young brain couldn't follow. She was a diligent writer, a capturer of life and communicator to whom every word had a different, deeper meaning.

My paternal grandmother was like a living mystery. A day with her was like stepping into the pages of an adventure where stories twist but end with predictability's comfort. She was comfortable expressing exactly who she was even if it was in a misunderstood vernacular.

When she passed, her seven grandchildren all asked for a single tin cookie press. He had molded thousands of gingerbread boys and each of our hearts. Her gingerbread boy wasn't content to stand idly waiting to be eaten. He was in a perpetual run - taking in all that was left of his life with wild abandon. 

Since I'm the youngest grandchild, I had zero chance of receiving the most coveted prize from her estate but I did receive this picture of her kitchen that could have been captured on  any day. She celebrated them all with the flare of the extraordinary. Her gingerbread boy was a lot like her. 

Inscribed on the back in her hand were the words:

"Any thyme life gives you lemons...make lemon pound cake."

Lemonade wasn't enough for Grandma. Liquid runs right through you but a pound cake is weighty and substantial. She wanted me to see the set-backs in my life as opportunities to engage my world as she had hers. She wanted me to take what someone else might call failure and fashion a future.

Today I wear turquoise as often as I can. I apply cuticle oil to my nails daily. And I have a passion for communication.

I face challenges as adventures knowing my life will twist and turn but end with predictability's comfort. Someday I will hobble my way to her home in heaven. And any thyme life gives me lemons...I'll make lemon pound cake.

What is your natural reaction when you face disappointment or loss? What difference could the presence of the One who turned water into wine make? If He can do that with water, just imagine what He could do with lemons...


  1. OOOH, Shannon, I love this analogy. The lemon pound cake is much more substantial. LOVE those grandmas who impact our lives forever. I had one, too. And I'm planning to be one someday, Lord willing.

    1. Isn't it? I think of my Grandma often and pray I have that kind of generational impact on my grandkids!

  2. She sounds like an amazing lady. In hope I can have the kind of impact your grandmother had.

  3. "She wore blue everyday but was buried in pink." --What a line that draws me in and intrigues me further.

    Your grandma sounds special. Thanks for this post.

    Thanks for stopping by my site too, Orange Juice girl.

    Jennifer Dougan

    1. Thanks, Jennifer, you are such a wonderful encourager and I so appreciate that about you!


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