When life gives you apples….make applesauce.

 [FYI: I started writing this blog several weeks ago..I decided it was time to finish and post..and a disclaimer for our family-- this post is griefy]


A few weekends ago the apple fairy came by our place and blessed us with the biggest box of apples I have ever seen in my life.  (We often have fairies that come by and leave food on our porch for our community and neighbors.  Whoever you are, I thank you, you are a blessing!!!)  At first I didn’t know how we were ever going to use or eat that many apples.  I am not a person that likes to see food go to waste, but I am also not a person that really knows what to do to prevent it.  My sister-in-law happened to be by and she said, “Those look like good applesauce apples; my mother makes great applesauce every year." So I called up my mother-in-law and we invaded her house and spent six hours making applesauce.  As we dug into the box, we found some less than desirable apples.  And we found quite a few large worms digging their way through as we cut.  But in the end we made something sweet and new out of the apples, something that we can freeze and use later.

Grief can be a little like a large box of apples dropped on your porch.  You don’t really see it coming, but once it arrives you have to deal with it before it gets worse, before it eats you from the inside out like a worm in the apple box.  Dealing with grief is a process and I really wish it was as simple and uniform as making applesauce.  It is hard and painful to face but I can say with certainty that you aren’t going to end up with anything sweet at the end if you don’t face the pain and work through it.

A few weeks ago Jon’s dad spoke at our church.  His message was about when good news and bad news enter your life at the same time.   His example was from the story of  David and his son Absolom.  Absolom was taking over David’s kingdom and they were at war.  When David’s men defeated Absolom’s men, David found out that they had won the war but also that his son was dead.  David began to mourn, and after a time his men came to him to say that he needed to stop mourning and take the throne--that otherwise his kingdom would fall apart.   Sam (Jon’s dad) talked about how even though David was mourning, he still needed to do what God had called him to do.  

We lost Jon’s brother on Feburary 8, 2010.  As a family we spent weeks in a hospital praying for his recovery, but in the end he passed away.  Although two years have passed, at times it is hard to keep moving forward.  We have felt called to adopt a child out of Pleven, yet each child we look at has a long list of health conditions.  This triggered grief for us.  What might we have to face when we brought a child home?  Would we spend weeks in the hospital again?  Would it end like the last time?  Should we put our son, our parents, and our siblings through this experience with us?  It was a lot to work through and a lot to talk through.  Many tears were shed.  Sam's message at church seemed to say to us that we can’t let our fear about the past keep us from doing what God has called us to do.  So we decided to move forward and adopt the child who had forced us to face some of our grief demons.   But then loss struck again.  The child we had hoped for, prayed for and imagined in our home already had a family.  How could this be?  We already felt so close to him.  We had already spent days and weeks talking about him, pouring over his file and letting him into our hearts. I found myself taking a few weeks off of reading adoption blogs, looking at children, or, sadly, even working on paperwork.  I needed time to heal. 

I think advocating for these kids, the special needs orphans, especially ones in Pleven, can be a journey through grief.  It has been for me.  Jon and I were talking about it and he said that normally you grieve something that you have lost.  And I said that I grieve for what all the children have lost.  Their chance at a life outside of a crib.  Their chance at growing and being fed and experiencing love. Their lives that have been stolen from them.   I remember after our David died feeling like the world was spinning madly and I couldn’t understand why because it felt like time had stopped for us.  I was amazed that people could be carrying on about their business.  Everything seemed trivial in light of life and death.  I feel that way about the kids in Pleven.  I visited a church a few weeks ago and felt annoyed that we were all sitting their talking about our sins when there were kids starving to death.  That is when I realized I might be working through some grief.

Like I said before, grief is something you have to work through and like the box of apples, there are lots of layers.  We are not done working through our grief about David, about hospitals and about our prayers going unanswered.  The layers are deep and the triggers are numerous.  As you know, we got a second chance to adopt the child we had been praying about, and we have named him Simon.  (Simon, means "to hear" or "to be heard".  God has heard his cries and we will bring him home.)  A new grief is now coming on.  The grief of loving a child who has been hurt, mistreated, abandoned and forgotten.  And the grief of adding another member to our family that will never know his uncle David.  I have been stuffing this grief down into my heart, and like the box of apples, the worming tears of grief are making their way out to the surface. 


My one hope is that this time when I grieve, I am not blaming God.  I know that He is so clearly in this process.  I have been watching Him work to free these children and I feel blessed to be apart of what He is doing.  As the funds come pouring in for our adoption I feel His comfort and healing and I feel His love through every person who helps us along the way.  Does it lesson the pain?  No, not really, but it gives the pain a purpose and it gives me hope that God is taking these worm filled apples and making them into something sweet.  It is just going to take a lot longer than six hours to cut, cook and crank out.