When life gives you lemons - make lemon curd.

A good friend, many years ago, used to refer to James 1:2 - 4: " Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way." My friend, a diminutive blond Dane, would ask, smiling hugely: "So, when the elephant of Circumstances sits on you, what do you produce: sour lemon juice, or sweet orange juice?"

Sweet orange juice was, of course, the preferred answer, the one we all aim for. To be sweet and faithful and loving in spite of desperate circumstances. To bring light and joy. Nothing sour about us, please.

Yet lemons are a truly wonderful fruit. Their strong, tangy scent is, in my opinion, far superior to their more insipid cousins, the plain oranges. I could wax lyrical about the many uses and benefits of lemons, but today, it is lemon curd I want to focus on.

When life gives you lemons, make lemon curd.

Lemon curd* - a delicious preserve made from lemons, sugar, eggs and  butter - makes everything better. I make lemon curd when:

• I feel a little down or discouraged, needing a lift to my spirits.
• I feel the need to be creative in some way - a good way of relaxing
• I want to give a friend a little gift: a tiny jar of lemon curd is always gratefully received.
• I have lemons in the fridge begging to be used up.
• I crave a little sweetness.

Making lemon curd gives me so much and teaches me so many things. I learn to appreciate that:

Injury can release a sweet fragrance into the atmosphere. Today, I grated the rind before I went out to church, leaving the rind and lemons sitting on the counter. On my return, the whole house smelt deliciously of a subtle citrus fragrance. The wounded skin released its scent into the air, permeating every room.

As I gently rasped the skin against the harsh grater, I  thought of how wounds, willingly given to God, are offered up to him as a pleasing sacrifice. The lemon couldn't but help release a delicate, fresh aroma: I longed to be as gentle and generous when circumstances grate on or trouble me.

Creating is a slow process. The making of lemon curd cannot be hurried. Heat the mixture too fast, and the egg will cook on its own, resulting in pieces of egg white marring the consistency. 

Circumstances can change rapidly. Stirring has to be rapid,vigorous, watchful, so that nothing spills over and the mixture does not stick. 

Cooking requires a degree of concentration and watchfulness. Look away for a moment, and the mixture may curdle or boil over. 

Making lemon curd encourages calm. As I stir the curd, giving it my full attention, I feel my spirit calm and quiet down. I focus on the pan, stirring gently, swirling the mixture first this way, then that; round and round, first clockwise, then in the contrary direction. Sometimes I draw figure of eight in the surface with the whisk.  Sometimes, I just stir. And stir. I contemplate. I wait. 

The final product may not be smooth and trouble-free. When I make lemon curd, I like to keep the rind in to give it extra tangyness to counteract the sweetness. The resultant curd may have bits of rind or pulp. It reminds me that even when God works powerfully to bring about good, there may still be - there WILL be - lumps and bumps, but life is sweet, flavoursome and far more precious than a jar of delicious lemon preserves.

I make lemon curd. I lose stress and hurry. I grow patience. I receive peace.

When life gives you lemons, receive them as a gift. Make lemon curd.

*Lemon curd recipe: makes approximately two 340g jars.

Grate the rind of 3 large lemons (or 2 large lemons and 1 small orange) and squeeze the juice.

Add to a small pan with 2 ounces of butter, 3 large eggs and a cup (or slightly less) of white sugar.

Add an extra squeeze of lemon juice from a bottle - about 2 tablespoons.

Stir, with a wire whisk, constantly over medium heat until the mixture starts to thicken. Do not boil.

Pour into sterilized jars, cover, and keep in the fridge.