Face to the Sun

 

“Sunflowers end up facing the sun, but they go through a lot of dirt to find their way there.”

― J.R. Rim

Every year, whether I intend it or not, I inevitably have a crop of sunflowers grow in my garden. I'm not even sure where the first sunflower came from, but I'm guessing it grew from the birdseed I put out. The following spring, this seed grew into a plant. And the plant, of course, grew a flower. And the flower grew more seeds. We all know this cycle. 

I love birds. And the birds love the sunflowers. So the birds eat the seeds, but not all of them. One or two (or more) always fall back into the dirt, and the next spring, I have more sunflowers than the year before. And the birds, well, they have more seed to eat. It's an amazing cycle that gives me beautiful flowers, attracts my favorite feathered friends, ultimately with very little effort required on my part.

This year, I had a vision of a wall of sunflowers growing next to my porch, blocking the view from the street. I was sure this wall of plants would succeed- after all, the sunflowers grew without any fuss at the lower end of my garden. I bought seeds, hoping for a variety of sunny faces. Big ones. Colored ones. I wanted them all. I planted them and watered them and waited. And waited. And waited. 

I watched as the sunflowers I did not plant sprouted and grew strong to the sun. Taller and taller. And still... my seeds were dormant. Finally, I began to see signs of life. Little sprouts. I continued to water and wait. 

It's now nearing the end of September. Very few of my planted seeds grew tall- and some of them never got the chance to bloom thanks to the passing mule deer who took off their heads as a snack. The sunflowers the birds planted are pecked nearly clean- the chickadees and goldfinches come every day to polish them off. 

My wall of sunflowers did not turn out at all as I imagined. But I do have this: 

This sunflower is taller than I am, even standing on my porch. It is covered with heads that have yet to open, 360 degrees around the stem. And this beautiful face greets me every day when I walk out the front door. Only one. And yet this one has been such an encouragement to me during the last few weeks. 

It's been a season of changes, and I don't just mean the seasons. There have been days when I am completely overwhelmed and wonder if and how we are going to make it. It sounds so dramatic writing it out. Ultimately, I know we will make it. It will be ok. As long as I remember the lesson of the sunflower.

Keep your face to the sun. 

This flower knows where it's life comes from. It needs warmth to attract the bees to pollenate the flower to create more flowers. It needs light to grow taller and stronger and withstand the winds that come and blow it. It needs the light to feed the leaves that feed the roots and grow them deep. It knows where to look.

In the same way, I must know where my life comes from. Keep my face to the Son. Where my help comes from. Where I turn to get the strength and courage and feed the roots and grow them deep. I know where to look. 

So if today is a dark day, and you can't see a way out, I want to remind you what the sunflower taught me. 

Keep your face to the Son. 

 

Eleven Seconds

"All of our ancestors give us the precious gift of life. Do we use it wisely? Do we use it well?" 

                                                                                                                                -Laurence Overmire

Did you know that among other things, September 27th is Ancestor Appreciation Day?

Genealogy is one of my many interests. I'm fairly confident it started out of a need to know more about my maternal grandfather. He died 25 days before my mom was born. Unlike her older siblings, she never got to be held by the man whose voice she no doubt heard, but can't remember. He died putting up an antennae on the roof of their home so that when time came for Mom to be born, my grandma could contact him. My mom, in utero, got to experience all the trauma my grandma felt losing her husband. To this day, Mom can't hear "Taps" without breaking down.  

My grandpa was in the Army, and most of the pictures my mom has are from his time in the service. 

All we had to go on were a few photos, and the little my grandma could tell us. I combed every scrap of detail I could out of those pictures, and each new little bit of information was a huge revelation for us. 

My grandpa was in the military (yay! records!) BUT stationed only at Army Security Agency posts (Read: top secret eavesdropping bases). Drat.

We thought we would attempt to find people who served with him, and  often heard "Oh, he was an MP? Yeah, I tried to avoid them." Double drat.

When we filled out the paperwork and attempted to get his records from the military, we were told that they didn't have anything- that his records were probably lost in a fire at one of their facilities. (Given the nature of his service, we're a bit skeptical about this.) 

In an attempt to consolidate the information and find more records, I signed up with Ancestry. And the rest, as they say, is history. In this case, that phrase is actually true. SO much history. Of course I didn't stop with my grandpa. I branched out and even added John's family tree to mine. (His is way more fun because he has roots in Scotland, but I'm not bitter.) *Cough* And I've learned so many things about my family and where we came from, and about John's family and their past. And I'm able to share these things with our girls and give them insight into their collective family history. 

I've gone so far down the ancestry rabbit-hole that when I saw this meme I busted out laughing because, hey- it's true! 

As I reflect on my 4 year membership with Ancestry, I see there are 666 people (apparently, I need to add one more ASAP) on my tree. 

And the person who started it all, Sergeant 1st Class Wesley Lemuel Johnson? Well, the facts are just as sparse as when we started. One bonus could be that we now have a semi-accurate timeline of his deployments, which we added to his wedding and births of his kids. 

But I will never forget the day we found the video. You see, my grandpa was present at the dedication ceremony for an outpost in Asmara, Eritrea. Kagnew Station was dedicated in May of 1953, and my grandpa was chosen to stand guard next to the official plaque. My mom has had this photo for years: 

Wax (right)

One day, I stumbled across a video of the ceremony on Youtube. 4 minutes and 29 seconds. I watched, breathless, waiting to see if I could catch a glimpse of my grandpa, hope sinking as the seconds ticked by. Then... at 3:22.... there he was. For 11 seconds. He moved. He was alive. I remember my excitement as I frantically passed it on to my Mom, who promptly sent it to her siblings. 

11 seconds. But how precious and dear they are in all their grainy glory. 11 seconds of life! And not possible without all the scrutinizing and analyzing and zooming in photos to try and decipher patches. Without those frustrating and often fruitless searches, I wouldn't have known where to look. 

It started with a photograph.

You know how they say a picture is worth a thousand words? I am endlessly thankful for the pictures my Mom (and her siblings) share. Because without them, we wouldn't have this:

I may not have many "facts" about my grandpa, but this I know. He loved my grandma. He came to know Jesus and was baptized in the Pacific Ocean. He served his country and he provided for his family. And his last act on earth was one of love and care for my Mom, who never heard the words but can't doubt the action. 

Someday, on the other side of Heaven, my Mom will finally get to be held by the hands that gave their life loving her. 

Just like Jesus.

And I can promise, that moment will last infinitely more than 11 seconds.

A Sky Full of Stars

 "I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."

Sarah Williams

Twilight Hours: A Legacy of Verse

Recently, my family and I watched the movie Sing 2. I won't delve into my love-hate relationship with the fun, lighthearted and musically light qualities that I want to enjoy, while at the same time being so irritated and incapable of getting past the fact that the "leader" is a total con artist who by lying and manipulating everyone around him (including his friends- who sometimes even aid his cause), still manages to get his way, and this is the "happy ending" we are supposed to cheer for. But I digress. 

The music in this film is supposedly a playlist of popular songs from recent years, which I wouldn't know because I rarely listen to secular radio stations. But one of them in particular has been stuck in my head for the last week, the song "A Sky Full of Stars". I had to look up the artist (laugh at me if you want), and discovered it was recorded by Coldplay (whom I have heard of, but now I can also name one song they've done. Hooray.) To my point:

Last night, my youngest daughter asked if we could go out and look at the sky after dark. I've always loved the night sky, and we live far enough outside of town to view them unhindered by street lights. We wandered out in the dark and waited for our eyes to adjust, and I let the fresh wonder of it wash over me.

The expanse of the universe blows my mind- a constant press of light shining and pushing back the dark. If you do any research on space, you'll discover there is way more dark in space than light. You'll learn about the massive distance between stars and the driving force of dark that continues to expand our universe outward. And I look up and think about our world. 

My husband ran inside to get his glasses. He came back outside and was amazed at what he could see. Because he could see! And I realized something.

I know every person is made to bear the light- the Light- capital, L, meaning Jesus- in dark places. We were also created to bring our own unique gift to those around us. Because we have to push back the dark. We were made to shine. Our little globe, Earth, just a speck in the universe, could be the brightest light of all. But in order to do that, we have to see. To look up and love and encourage and stir up the light in those around us. Give them a reason to shine. 

And then, I thought about myself and all the stories I want to tell. 

Each one a star. Each one created to bring light. To push back the dark. 

And I think it's true. I am a sky full of stars. So are you. 

And I don't mean it in some mystical "we're all part of the universe" kind of way. I mean that you and I have light, and Light, that only we can bring to this world. We need to love the stars- the light- too fondly to be fearful of the night. 

Whatever is stirring inside you, let it shine. Don't hide your light. The world needs what you have to bring.