Waiting for Transformation

The apples sit in my aunt’s kitchen sink, glistening with fresh water, evidence of the sacred in a suburban back yard.  They’re little – hard and sour beneath skins that are satiny, yellow-green, speckled with brown.  These are not apples for eating fresh.  But they can be transformed.  They cook up gloriously into apple pies, applesauce, apple butter; and the added sugar and spice bring out their quintessential apple flavor.

We’re hard little sour apples, too, with our own speckles and flaws.  But we too can be transformed – are constantly being transformed.  Life chops us up and cooks us down, but with the addition of the sugar of love and the spice of grace, we become – together – something more than we were.  Transformed, perhaps, into our truer selves.

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