My sister winced as her tongue came into contact with what she thought was going to be delicious fruit.
But instead of a juicy sweetness dancing delightfully across her taste-buds, all she could detect was the sharp shock of sodium chloride.
My dad had salted the pineapple. All of it.
Five minutes before, the tropical delicacy was sitting in her kitchen with its plump, yellow slices enticing a hungry family to enjoy its flavour and be refreshed.
But alas, Michelle began to gag and promptly spat the entire contents of her mouth back onto her plate. Her husband did the same, with my two nieces following.
“Dad! Why have you put salt on the pineapple?” She asked as the inside of her bottom lip turned opaque.
“Umm! Umm! Because it brings out the sweetness, umm!” He replied with a big grin.
As he smiled, juice trickled down his chin and his mouth revealed a row of teeth with stringy bits stuck in between each incisor.
“But you know I hate salt on pineapple!” she gasped.
Ignoring this angst, Dad focused on the fork in his hand.
“Does the same with oranges too you know.”
“I don’t like salt on fruit at all! It tastes disgusting! Can I have a piece without salt on please?”
At this point, I felt really bad. I am like my dad in that I also love salty oranges and pineapple and I agree that not only does it enhance the natural flavour, but it helps to reduce the bitterness of un-ripened fruit too. But then, I am a Marmite girl. Worse still, I could tell from the guilty silence coming from across the table, that he had sprinkled salt over the entire contents of the plate. The whole bloomin’ lot.
And I knew how much she had been looking forward to consuming a few tasty slices.
Dad looked up sheepishly then shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. He added fuel to her anger by answering with his mouth full:
“Ar av puth sal arn it ull. Sor ree Meesh, bar ar thor yoo din mind. Juss try som ffth. Ish delishuss, ffth.”
Michelle’s eyes doubled in size, but her pupils shrunk. Her lips pursed until they were two thin lines on top of one another and her fists clenched into a tight ball.
“You…salted…the…whole…lot.”
She mouthed something that only she could hear and arose from the table, too infuriated to say any more.
The Bible says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick.” (Proverbs 3:12) There is nothing worse than excitedly waiting for something, to then discover that it is either not going to happen, or it doesn’t happen the way we anticipated.
The things you are hoping for are most likely far more important than a small portion of succulent cuisine. Maybe you are too scared to hope for anything because the last few times you did, it was a great disappointment.
God understands this plight but delights in seeing you hope in him, because it opens the door to see good things happen in your life and at the same time, it prevents depression from trying to take up residence in your heart. The best way to renew your hope is to read his word (the Bible) regularly, with interest and expectation that he is going to speak to you and help you rise up once more like an eagle.
So, whatever has made your life taste like rancid fruit, run to him with your shattered dreams and let his love bring you the peace you so desperately need.
