​Have you ever felt like life was a test you hadn’t studied for?

 

I know I have—many times over. There are days I feel like I’ve lived a thousand lives in my short time on earth.

 

Whether it was job loss, relationship bruises, pregnancy struggles, financial stressors, disease, disability, missed opportunities, unrealized goals, widowhood, a rebellious child or the nagging sense of never being "quite" good enough—these were lemons that tempted me to wrap myself in bitterness. (I learned bitterness can disguise itself a thousand ways. More on that later!)

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The bitterness was fleeting, though. An easy shield for the hurt and disappointment carving into my soul. It hid my brokenness from prying eyes and gave me a false sense of control. The isolation, the nursed wounds, the unanswered "whys"—they were a mirage of safety. Left to myself, that bitterness would’ve wrecked my today and tomorrow.

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But the decisions we make today shape the stories we tell tomorrow, right? What stories did I want my children to share? What could point others to Jesus? Now, I’m an ordained minister, credentialed after years of Bible college and ministry. Wasn’t it enough to slap on a smile and preach? Wouldn’t that prove I wasn’t weary in well-doing, even if my heart was mad at God?

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There’s so much I want to share. Why? Because I fought the bitterness and walked through the disappointment. I’ve journeyed through the valley of the shadow of death (Psalm 23). Those trials—meant to harm me and those I love—brought the death of relationships, peace, belief in humanity, even hope itself. It hurt. It was exhausting.

 

Pain struck at the oddest times. The challenges were real, but not insurmountable. Disappointment doesn’t destroy us. Disease or death doesn’t devastate us. If we embrace our hurt and confusion, turn outward instead of inward, and choose to act—stand, walk, run—we’ll find joy that doesn’t leave us empty.

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I’m not cute enough, smart enough, wise enough, or funny enough—definitely not funny enough, since I laugh at the wrong parts of every joke—to figure this out alone. It’s only because of Jesus that my broken pieces became a beautiful mosaic, reflecting perfect hope in my heart, mind, and soul. It’s God’s gift, an anchor for my soul (Hebrews 6:19).

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And here’s a bright spot: Today, I’m married to a wonderful man, Dan, who proves the unexpected isn’t always bad. We’ve been married almost four years and still live like newlyweds. When he asked if I’d love Jesus with him for the rest of our lives, I hesitated—just a breath—before stepping into that new adventure. It was a deliberate choice to seal the past and move forward into the future together.

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Join us on this journey of resilience and faith, and discover how to turn your lemons into lemonade!

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