Pregnant Apples

For as long as I can remember, I have despised warm fruit.  I am American, but I don't eat apple pie, peach cobbler, blueberry cobbler, cherry pie, or any other variation of fruit-baked dessert.  It doesn't matter if it is smothered in vanilla ice cream or pudding; I have made a conscious effort to not ingest any food that is simultaneously warm, gooey, and sweet.  To even think about these foods grosses me out. (ick!)  Then one day, I got pregnant and my hormones went psycho.  I knew that many women suddenly crave things they have never wanted before.  I was Not one of these women.  In fact, instead of craving things, for the most part, I had ... let's just say the opposite of cravings.  Food in general became my enemy and I was quite sick and sad and grey and mopey for 9 dark months.  Seriously.  Once Silas was born, many things changed.
One great change was the absence of nausea in my life.  When you aren't sick, you can see things much more clear. (clearer? clearly?) Another change was my attitude.  Even my husband  told me that it must have been the pregnancy making me cranky because even two days after Silas was born, I was a completely new person.
Fast forward a month or two and a sweet friend invites me over for coffee and a play date with her and her five month old.  I was really looking forward to this girl time :-) When I arrived, she told me she didn't know what snack to make that would be gluten free. (I have celiac disease- which complicates things -like eating). So she baked up some cinnamon apples.  I didn't tell her of my picky aversion to warm fruit, of course. That would have been terribly rude! (instead I'm blogging about it knowing full well that there is a definite possibility that she'll read it). So instead of saying eww gross, I spooned a bit onto my plate and thanked her for thinking of my silly, inconvenient dietary needs.  My standards for flavor were low as I prepared to take my first slimey bite.  Yet, when I did, I didn't cringe, as I had anticipated.  Actually, I enjoyed it.  I savored it. I even went for seconds! (take That post-pregnancy hormones!)

A few weeks ago, I was revisited with a craving for these baked cinnamon apples. So I bought a bag of golden delicious, I grabbed a trusty bag of brown sugar, and a sprinkler full of cinnamon and I got started. As soon as I sliced the first apple in half, I stopped.
I had never noticed before. Obviously the seeds are located in the center of the apple. But as I stared at the seeds, I saw them in a different light. The seeds, which are drop shaped, sit in the middle of a semi-circular area. It reminded me of none other than...a womb. It was a pregnant apple! How silly, how girly. But it's not just that. It's not just that I saw motherhood in an apple.
I saw my creator! I saw that even in the smallest thing, the seed of an apple, He was there. Of course the same all knowing creator who designed the phenomenal intricacies of the human body also designed the incredibly simple form of the core of the apple. Just like a precious womb is the perfect environment to protect and cultivate a baby human to gestational maturation, the core of an apple is the perfect home to protect the seed of the next apple tree as well! So as I continued to slice up the apples (into wedges, then smaller "cubes"- sprinkle brown sugar and cinnamon and bake at 350F for15-20min), I smiled and thanked Him for showing me Himself, here in my kitchen. :-)

I Am the woman at the well -.John 4

Jesus knows every part of our history, even the dark, scary, embarrassing, shameful parts. He knows the truths we try to cover up. He knows the deep rooted hurts we feel and how and why we dug ourselves deeper, breaking our own hearts more and more. He knows because He knows our broken hearts. But He loves us in spite of our hurt and our damage. His love for us is all encompassing. It's completely penetrating. His love for us is so sure and so strong that it reaches to meet us where we are. Sometimes, we're at that well, with 5 partners under our belt and yet another that wasn't ours either. But in the midst of our self destruction and our running, He humbles Himself and meets us at the well. He meets you at the darkest place where you return to feed your emptiness. You know what He says when you get there? He says I've been waiting for you. You don't have to run anymore. I can give you assurance and purpose and the love you have so desperately been chasing. Dry your eyes. Trust me with this; trust me me with everything and I promise you, you will be fulfilled. You will be restored. Everything that you are searching for, you don't need it. You need me. I will repair, prepare and equip you for everything that's coming.
I know that Samaritan woman at the well was hurting. I know that because I am her. I'm a gentile. I'm a woman. Our stories, ours pasts are so parallel. I think of her, fixing her hair before her long walk to get some water. Looking at her reflection, not liking what she sees. Perhaps she thought about the desert heat, or the labor ahead. Maybe she thought about her neighbors eyeballing her, judging her with their sideways glances. I picture her putting on a brave face, avoiding the busy crowds of the morning so that she could avoid audible whispers. Today, people still whisper. But her behavior, my own promiscuous behavior is considered acceptable, even normal. People look the other way. But for her... I can only imagine. How confused she must have felt. How startled she must have been when Jesus began speaking to Her. But for Him to meet her there. He humbled Himself to speak with her. He spoke of her sin. He told her everything about herself (because, though she didn't want people to know how much she was hurting, this sin was everything to her) she couldn't pretend to Him and neither can I. There is no sin more painful in my own life, no doubt in her life as well, than that of sexual sin. You trust someone with your heart. Sometimes there are promises that are broken, sometimes it's a brief encounter, a poor judgment call, or an un-sober mind. Whatever the reason, sexual sin leaves you scarred. It leaves you hurt. It leaves you feeling used and dirty and unworthy. The enemy loves to use this feeling against you. How powerful that weapon is! But the more you feed that hurt, the more powerful it becomes. There comes a day when you let it go and mean it. You say to Jesus, the Son of God, the Messiah who loved you enough to reveal Himself to you... You say to Him 'enough!' Admit that you aren't strong enough to carry the weight of this hurt and you simply lay it at His feet. Remembering that he already paid the price for this sin that you committed.
You see, it's one thing to know you are saved and to say you are brand new. But it's another thing to feel brand knew; to feel clean. That is my prayer for this year. That's my next step. I'm going to lay this overwhelming hurt at my Jesus' feet and when He says I'm clean, when He says I am a new creation, I'm going to believe it. No longer will my heart ache. No longer will I long for someone to regret their actions toward me. I will let go. I will be clean. I will trust in Him. I will thank Him and praise Him everyday for blessing me with a loving, Christ following husband, and a beautiful son. I will not let Jesus' sacrifice for my broken heart be for nothing. I will appreciate His love for me. I will learn from this woman at the well. From the moment she met Jesus, her life was changed. Mine will be too.