For instance, I hate all the problems involved in flying! It’s not that I’m afraid to fly; I simply hate the hassles of delayed and/or cancelled flights, lost luggage, ten-dollar hamburgers and two-dollar Diet Cokes, onboard movies with Adam Sandler, and most of all, increased security. Since the 9/11 terrorist attacks, airlines have gone from Def. Con. Dumb Questions at the Desk (“Did a terrorist give you a bomb to carry on your flight?”) to Def. Con. Take Off Your Shoes and Belt.

So, I’ve been patted down in India (the security guard seemed to enjoy his work just a little too much). Had my skivvies publicly displayed and thoroughly examined in Portugal and Australia (fortunately, at the time they were in my suitcase!). But the absolute worst was at the Detroit airport in the U.S. of A...

I dutifully put my watch and belt in the little plastic tub. Took off my jacket and placed my carry-on bag on the conveyor belt, and went through the metal detector without a single beep.

Suddenly, a burly security guard pinned me against the wall with a firm grip around my throat. (Envision Darth Vader lifting up that poor enlisted man by his throat in “Star Wars.”) Security guards and police converged on my carry-on bag and began digging through it like stray dogs through an overturned garbage can. The top dog glared at me, paused, then dramatically pulled out of my carry-on bag . . . a hair drier.

Darth let my feet return to the floor and mumbled, “It looked like a handgun.”

Life is like that—deceptive and disturbing.

So, the first thing to do when the lemon truck pulls up to your front door is to carefully examine the delivery slip.

“Sorry, not my problem. You want to deliver that load to The Department of Homeland Security, my ex-spouse, or (fill in the blank).” Don't sign for things that are facts of life and not your problem.

There's another possibility, however. What we may perceive as a lemon—some life-puckering problem—may indeed be the event that produces a fruitful future for us. And worse, what seems perfectly safe and harmless can blow up in our face!

For instance, I’m thankful for my kidney stone in 1991 (I'm mostly thankful it was in 1991 and not today!) Experiencing the sensation of having a semi tractor-trailer with snow chains and a load of rolled steel park on my lower back put life into perspective.

So, when my daughter called Lois and me at 1 AM in the middle of winter and said, “Uh, Dad, did you know that a '95 Neon can straddle a traffic island?” I could honestly say, “Hey, sure beats a kidney stone.”

It’s also worked for the time my mother-in-law backed into our brand-new car. When I forgot to ever change the oil in our newest car—and needed a whole new $4,127 engine. When I lost a great job as an editor at a publishing house due to corporate down-sizing. When we were spending half our vacation time sitting in a traffic jam in downtown Chicago with a stick shift, no air-conditioning, and two kids in the back seat waging a fight to the death. I could confidently say, “Hey, sure beats a kidney stone.”

Unfortunately, some lemons are worse than a kidney stone. I've experienced those as well: a broken relationship with a family member and the death of loved ones. But we can look at each lemon of life as a hand grenade that threatens to destroy us or as fruitful experiences that prompt us to grow emotionally, spiritually, and mentally (I’ll never forget to change oil again).

So that’s what this book is all about. Reminding you to always change your vehicle’s oil every three thousand miles. In addition, I trust that you’ll find this book helpful as you deal with the lemons in your own life.

And while I'll use a lot of humor to make the reading as painless as possible, I certainly don’t want to make light of your problems. I write this book with my own lemon-juice-in-the-eye awareness of how incredibly painful and disillusioning life can be. As I type this very line, I just found out that a good friend died of cancer. (Guys don’t cry, but occasionally our head gaskets leak. And I just blew a head gasket!)

I’ve found that humor is what keeps the barrel out of my mouth. As Conrad Hyers writes, “Humor is not the opposite of seriousness. Humor is the opposite of despair.” I like that! The apostle Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 4, “we are not in despair.” And in Romans 8, he reminds first century believers that “In all things, God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” That’s the ultimate punch line!

And so, we’ll explore how to practically apply that principle to the lemons in our life and take a look at what exactly is the “purpose” for all these things—even the lemons that continue to leave a sour taste in our mouth and a sting in our eyes.

So, thanks for spending a chunk of your valuable time with me and this book. You could be playing electronic Solitaire, surfing the ‘net, or trying to figure out the plot of TV’s “Lost” instead of reading this, so I feel honored. And, since the chapter numbers are reversed in this book, you can already feel great accomplishment in that you’ve already completed Chapter 10!

Keep in mind, it's a work in progress. I haven't perfected each and every chapter in this book. Life has left me beaten, bruised, and bloody (more gory details to follow). And there have even been moments when I wondered if God had gone on vacation and left a stark raving lunatic in charge of the universe.

But through it, I think I've developed just a bit mentally, emotionally and even spiritually. Just last week an editor emailed me to thank me for my “tireless patience” working with her on a project. I had to check the salutation just to be sure she was referring to me. Maybe those life-puckering problems are, indeed, making a sweeter person. I hope so!

James Watkins
www.jameswatkins.com