It fascinates me that in a book that shares so many stories of pain – stillbirth, sudden infant death syndrome, infertility, death in the womb, severe accidents, paralysis, neglect, abuse, and the list goes on – there is a sense of hopefulness that wells up irresistible and pure. There is a rest in God that defies logic. It doesn’t make sense, at least in a way my mind can reason out. But I know first-hand that it is real.

I’m ashamed to admit that as one of the contributing authors to Hot Apple Cider, having given and sold many copies, I have only now sat down and begun to read the book cover to cover.

Working in a bookstore I typically read one or two books a week and dip into a hundred others – tasting, nibbling – like it is the hors-doeuvres before the real meal. Because the focus on my contribution seemed prideful, I was hesitant to promote this book actively.

What a wonder this collection is! What a wonder that I am privileged to be part of it. How much bigger and richer it is than my small part. Yet what a delight to know that my small part adds to the richness.

One of the gripping and disturbing things is the collective pain. But even more gripping is the collective hope and triumph that rises through the pain. I deal with many grieving people at the Bible Bookstore, somehow in tune with them since Dylan died (see the poem on page 129). I have a number of favorite resources that I recommend, usually a month or so after a death, seldom earlier. I don’t think a resource for grieving people was one of the primary purposes of this book, but I think it is one of the best I have read.

This is a rich offering and I’m personally quite fond of hot apple cider (leave the spices out, thank you, and give it a few days to age, but don’t let it start to ferment).

A way overdue word of appreciation to every contributing author and to the team that pulled this together.

Brian Austin