Sunflowers

“In a way, nobody sees a flower—really—it is so small—we haven’t time---and to see takes time like to have a friend takes time. If I could paint the flower exactly as I see it, no one would see what I see because I would paint it small like the flower is small. So I said to myself, “I’ll paint what I see – what the flower is to me, but I’ll paint it big and they will be surprised into taking time to look at it.” -Georgia O’Keeffe

Recently, I took the time to see this field of sunflowers, which somebody planted big. Row upon row of bright yellow, heads lifted toward the sun, roots drawing nourishment from the rich, fertile soil by the shores of Seneca Lake. Aren’t they spectacular? At a time when there is much angst and anxiety about the problems of our nation and world, in the midst of the quest for Olympic gold, while politicians argue over who has the right solutions, these flowers are quietly standing tall. Could they be seen as a sign of earth’s abundance? Do they invite your heart to gratitude? Or, perhaps they speak to you of the power that may be evoked, whether by the fortitude of a single, solitary individual or by the solidarity of the one standing among the many. Are they the ‘lilies of the field’ of which Jesus spoke, that neither toil nor spin, but are clothed by God? What do you see in a field of sunflowers?

Praise God from whom all blessings flow,

Cheryl

P.S. If you click on the photograph, you can see it, full size.

Shifts

Lately, I’ve not been as faithful with this blogging thing as I had hoped, but with about a month remaining of my Sabbatical season, I am noticing that this time away from my work is starting to bring about shifts that are discernible…

The shift from a sense of urgency generated by attention to many tasks, people and relationships to a sense of peaceful mindfulness to whatever and whomever I happen to be present, at the moment. This has offered special moments with family and friends, many of whom I have not seen in quite some time. This past week, our son Peter was home, and I can’t remember the last time I was able to fully relax and enjoy his company. We’ve been bike riding, and together, we tackled a home improvement project: building a small pad for our gas grill out of paving stones. There was much sweat and digging of dirt involved, and we even discovered buried treasure at the manse. It seems that there was a brick walkway in our backyard at one time. We unearthed about a dozen bricks as we dug out the area where we laid the paving stones. We also found the decayed remains of a tree stump and disintegrating remnants of its root system.

Another shift I’ve noticed has entailed the move from theory to practice. I have long been interested in what makes life healthy and sustainable, over time….for individuals and for our planet. The purchase of my Prius was not simply prompted the impact on my pocketbook from rising gas prices, but by my desire to minimize the ecological impact of my driving habits. Previously, I have blogged about my interest in developing and promoting a food culture that is healthy and sustainable. But reading and writing about it are different from practicing it. I now realize that the changes I have begun to incorporate into my own life have evolved as a result of the breathing space this Sabbatical Season has afforded. It takes both intention and time to move into new ways of living and being. It also involves new learning and trying out what is not already familiar or comfortable....like blogging, for instance?

Soon, I hope to experiment with adding photos to my blog, and by September it is my intention to use "The Spiral Notebook" to share reflections on the Scriptures as well as daily life, as a part of preparing for worship with the congregation. It will be interesting to see what develops, as we follow this new learning curve.

For now, I am grateful for this Sabbatical season. Having cleared the calendar, I am also finding a clarity of mind, a clearing of heart, a cleansing of soul that, I trust, invites the sort of shifts that make authentic leadership, not to mention authentic humanity, possible.


Blessings to all,

Cheryl