Made of Apples

My dear friend, Kim, once told me her son was made of apples. She meant that while she was pregnant with him, she ate apples like they were going out of style. He adores apples now too and she makes trips to the local apple farm a regular occurrence. This love for apples stems back to when she was a single woman, working downtown. She would take a bag of the red, juicy fruit with her as she walked along the street. Knowing their nutritious value and sweet flavour, she believed they would be a gift she could offer the homeless people of her city. She sought these needy ones out and cared for them the best way she knew how. Kim is an example to me of someone who reaches out to the homeless and shares with them a little bit of God's love.

We visited the apple farm yesterday with our cousins, and as the littlest girls ran up and down the rows of trees, I was thankful that this simple place held such pleasure for these children of ours. Filling the baskets in our wagons and crunching on the ripe fruit was memory-forming for them. This is a yearly highlight and it beats many other costly excursions. While we talk of autumn and harvesting pumpkins and such, they also hear of how this delicious fruit helped keep homeless people nourished and cared for. I share with them about my friend's act of love. As they get a little older, I will consider following this example by taking them downtown. This is how we will tell the people what we believe, not just with our words. I want my children to know that sometimes, God's love is made of apples.