Tender mercies: When life gives you lemonade
The church I attend calls them “tender mercies,” you know, the little things that happen to give you hope when you’re having another one of those dreaded “Mondays,” or worse.
That’s what happened the day I walked out of my therapist’s office for the last time. It was an emotional session, but one where we reached some valuable conclusions. She didn’t understand my faith enough to relate, and I couldn’t move forward with my healing unless she did.
So, we parted ways, but it kinda hurt too because I didn’t want to start over somewhere else. I didn’t want to have to tell someone else my struggles. I just wanted to be free from them. But as I sat in my car, frustrated and growing a little angry, my phone beeped me back to reality.
The frustration I felt was replaced with a smile as I looked down and saw a sweet, tender mercy right there on my screen.
It said to go to Piece, Love and Chocolate.
The ten minute drive took me close to my office, so it seemed a natural place to stop and indulge, but more than the chocolate, it represented a break from frustration. It was a chance to smile, a glimmer of light when I was struggling. You see, anyone who knows me well can tell you I don’t pass up good, dark chocolate easily.
It wasn’t my first time to experience a tender mercy, or the lemonade, if you’d prefer. And I’m confident it won’t be the last.
You know the saying, “When life gives you lemons …” well, I believe life also gives you lemonade, a bit of sweet to balance the pain, but sometimes lemonade is harder to recognize than the lemons.
David A. Bednar describes tender mercies this way, “The very personal and individualized blessings, strength, protection, assurances, guidance, loving-kindnesses, consolation, support, and spiritual gifts which we receive from and because of and through the Lord Jesus Christ.” Further, he taught that “the tender mercies of the Lord are real and that they do not occur randomly or merely by coincidence. Often, the Lord’s timing of His tender mercies helps us to both discern and acknowledge them.”
Recognizing these moments of mercy hasn’t always been easy for me, but I’ve found that being aware in the moment allows me to see them, embrace them and let them work their comforting magic when it’s most needed.
There was lemonade when my brother died
The day I found out my brother died in a car crash I sat in my room despondent, the noise of crying down the hallway muted to my own pain. My brother and I had argued most of our teenage years. We hadn’t been as close as I wished we had been. And now it was too late … the pain engulfed me, and I took to my knees in prayer. That’s when I felt I should push play on my tape recorder and the first words I heard were these: “I’ll always be there watching over you.” They were part of a popular song at the time, but their impact was astounding!
I felt like Todd was there again beside me, this time with love and comfort. There was no sibling rivalry. No feelings of regret or anger. Just thirst-quenching, soothing peace.
And more with my mother’s passing
My mother died a few days before my husband and I were scheduled to leave for our honeymoon out of the country. She’d been sick for years, so her death wasn’t unexpected, but the timing sure was.
We talked about our disrupted plans at length. I spoke to my dad and my siblings about my predicament, and something my mom said a few days before her death kept coming back to me, that she wanted me to go on my honeymoon and start my new life.
My father said the same, encouraging me to live my life, not to sit and mourn the past. He knew I’d said my goodbyes and had peace in her passing. What a sweet moment to connect with my dad but also to know my mother had given her encouragement while she could still talk to me face to face.
Not all lemonade is equal
Most moments are subtle, quiet reminders of the beauty or serenity life has to offer, like a text from a friend saying just the right thing, or a sale on the framed picture you want when your budget is tight.
Sometimes it takes the form of goodies left on the doorstep after a rough day or a post on social media that generates a pleasant memory, or prompts a change in perspective.
Often, it’s my husband, texting me in the middle of the afternoon, “I love you.” It’s my children sending videos of their adventures. It’s a friendly wave on the street, a smile, a tender memory surfacing from what seems like nowhere. A “thank you” for something you didn’t think anyone would even notice.
Lemonade is everywhere
I’ve struggled many times throughout my life. I’ve lost my brother, my mother, had trials with my children, and endured a difficult first marriage. I’ve been through a divorce, through abuse, through emotional turmoil and depression, but through it all I can’t deny the sweet, tender mercies that have manifested over and over again along the way.
I can’t deny that life has indeed been a major supplier of lemonade. And I have to say that I believe what David A. Bednar said in regard to tender mercies of the Lord, that they are “real and that they do not occur randomly or merely by coincidence.”
