Making Lemonade.

So sometimes life gives you... lemons. 

They say to make lemonade. But few of us want to. 

My lemon was going to the doctor. I've had this obnoxious sand in my ear for exactly one month and it's caused some pain and hearing issues with my left ear. So after days of sticking olive oil and garlic in there, Carson made the executive decision that I needed to go to the doctor. 

I don't like doctors. 

But I went. 

And they washed the sand out (as much as they could - it's been there for awhile so it's kinda wanting to stick around in there). And they washed it again. And again. And again. I was there for awhile. 

The lemonade hadn't happened at this part. 

But then the doctor came back in to talk about it and check it out. As she was writing the prescription, she asked why I had sand in my ear. I told her about Mexico. She told me about her trip to Cancun, then asked if I knew Spanish. 

"Nope. I took Russian in high school" I said. "Russian?! I love Russian!" and she proceeded to tell me about her niece and nephew in law who are in Ukraine. And her trips to Belarus. And her trips to Russia. And her faith in Jesus.

So there I was, sitting in a walk-in clinic, chatting with the doctor about life, missions, and the Gospel. Sweet fellowship in the oddest place. 

As we got up to walk out (I think we talked for nearly 45 minutes), she said, "You know, I think the sand in your ear was actually just to get you in here. Today." 

Me too. 

It was a lemonade kind of day after all. At the doctor, of all places.