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. :-)