Why I Don’t Go Apple Picking

This is the time of year when New York State’s orchards get as crowded with eager apple pickers as its city streets are with pedestrians. It used to be an annual outing for our family, until the last time, which was in the fall of 2004.

We trekked up to Maskers in three cars to glean the apples we would turn into fall goodies, like apple crisp or pie.  Homemade apple sauce, however, was our favorite. The countertop held Grandma B’s old apple mill, and plastic containers were lined up to receive the sweet, warm sauce. Kids from young to old waited with spoons, ready for their first taste. But I’m digressing. Back to apple picking.

Our daughter Stacey was our adventurer and added sparkle to our family. She had her eye on a lone apple hanging from a tree apart from all the others. Because her father was wrapped around her finger, they tromped through mud and over a fence to reach the one perfect apple that Stacey just had to have.

It was silly, but obviously memorable to us, and its telling has grown sweeter with time because, less than two weeks later, Stacey left us when the Lord lifted her from her bed and brought her home. And that’s why I don’t go apple picking anymore.

The remembrance is too sweet and the missing her would be too sharp, even 21 years later. It’s a memory we savor as we look forward to walking with her through Heaven’s orchards, where every apple will be a perfect apple.

Forgive my nostalgia, but I share this to encourage you to take time to create memories. Set a date, face the traffic, and go apple picking!

Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from Him. Psalm 127:3