Previously, I posted my thoughts regarding teacher crap with apples on it. I might have gone as far as to say that I hated apples. Well, a student gave me two bags of apples as a gift. And it turned out okay.
I sat in front of a movie yesterday skinning and chopping all of the apples for homemade applesauce. I’ve never made it before. The recipe is simple (this is for a large Crockpot):
- Peel and core apples
- Slice them into thin slices
- When the Crockpot is half full, sprinkle a teaspoon of cinnamon across the top.
- Finish peeling, coring, and slicing.
- When the Crockpot is completely full, sprinkle another teaspoon of cinnamon over the top.
- Dump in a cup of honey
- Dump in a 1/2 cup of water
- Cook on low for the night
I grew up watching Monday Night Football with my dad. In the colder months, he would sit and make applesauce. I don’t remember him making it at any other time. It’s possible, but I only remember the football games. Like I said before, this was my first time trying to make applesauce. It smells good. But I don’t know if I did it right. It tastes all right (or so says mom on the way to the airport at 4:30 this morning), and it’s kind of hard to mess up Crockpot recipes. So who cares? I cooked something.
But more importantly, it’s a fun memory of my dad on another Christmas without him. My life has been quite a bit like Crockpot applesauce, not knowing what I’m doing at times but trying my hardest to follow my dad’s recipe. Sometimes it feels like I’m wandering through this life, shooting goals and hopes and dreams into a dreary, foggy landscape. It would be nice to at least ask my dad which way to aim. But it’s not in the bag of apples I’ve been given. And it doesn’t matter whether or not I like it. It just is.
I look forward to breakfast this morning, fresh dutch babies and hot applesauce. It will turn out alright, Christmas, applesauce, and life…thanks to God’s provisions. So here’s to memories, gifts, and traditions. Merry Christmas everybody.