The Sunflower Field

It used to be an empty field.
It was the field where hot air balloons would often launch.
It was so lovely to see the open space.
Houses were built along one side, but even they seemed to compliment the bucolic scene.

An old barn and a stone house can be found in an area around the empty field.
Quaint little country shops can be found around the corner.
An historic church is across the street.
This field is in the center of the small town.

One day, I noticed that the ground had been tilled.
I wondered what was happening.
I didn’t really think about it until one day I noticed something as I drove by the field.
I saw a wooden sign.

The field was in bloom.
Sunflowers were everywhere.
Rows and rows of sunflowers were standing tall, seeming to reach for the sun.
I saw a sea of yellow where there once was only green.

I recognized the name on the wooden sign.
It was my neighbor.
I came home and texted her to thank her for the field.
Actually, father and son planted the field.

I have never met the young man face to face because he was away at school.
However, last summer, he and I would wave to each other as I was on my morning walk.
That young man planted a field of beauty at a time we needed it most.
A couple thousand sunflowers were planted in a one acre field with help of a farmer.

My heart was happy.
I love sunflowers.
You cannot help but smile when you see them.
I love that sunflowers are not only beautiful but a blessing to the birds and the bees.

I wanted to visit the sunflower field.
My daughter decided that she would take my two granddaughters to the field.
My oldest daughter and I met her there.
We were ready to enjoy the beauty and take pictures to remember our time there.

My two-year-old granddaughter loved the sunflower field.
She loved walking into the field about two or three rows.
She wanted us to find her.
Her bright pink sneakers gave her away, but we pretended that we couldn’t see her.

My four-month-old granddaughter was asleep at first, but then woke up and was amazed.
She reached out to touch the large yellow sunflowers.
To see her little hand grasp the simple beauty, touched my heart.
I looked around at the other mothers and children who were there.

Bales of hay were placed here and there around the perimeter of the field.
They begged the children to climb on them.
Once they were almost at the level of the sunflowers, they jumped down.
This happened over and over again.

It was spritzing rain just a bit.
Just enough to make the grass wet.
Just enough to make the dirt on the edges of the field end up on shoes and shorts.
Just enough to have little pieces of hay stuck to the bottoms of each of the children.

My two-year-old granddaughter wanted to be on top of one of the bales of hay.
My oldest daughter helped her up.
She stood there as if she was a queen surveying her kingdom.
Then she noticed her sneakers.

They were dirty from when she went to hide in the sunflower field, three rows in.
She sat on the grass, after she got off the bale of hay, to wipe them with her hands.
Her shorts got wet and then her hands got dirty.
It was obvious that she was not a fan of her dirty shoes.

Mommy, should have put your rain boots on, my daughter said.
Just like that, my granddaughter found a bee on a sunflower and was mesmerized.
Another little girl came up to talk to us.
She was barefoot and had been removing layers of her clothes so she could run around.

She talked a mile a minute.
She told us things she liked to do.
She told us about people she played with, or talked to, or saw recently.
I looked at her arms, and her hands, and her face, and knew that a long bath was needed.

My daughter encouraged the little girl to touch the side of the stroller.
The little girl was trying to touch my youngest granddaughter’s face.
The little girl saw the dirt on her arms and hands.
I don’t like to get dirty, the little girls said, unsolicited.

My daughter and I looked at each other and tried not to laugh.
I was trying to imagine what her mother’s car was going to look like after their ride home.
Nothing but a bath could clean this precious little girl.
But she was having so much fun.

If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, leave that home or town and shake the dust off your feet. (Matthew 10:14)

In Jesus’ time, the roads were dusty.
If it rained, the roads were quite muddy.
Washing your feet before entering a home was expected.
It was poor manners if the host neglected to have someone wash the feet of his guests.

Jesus talked about the dust on His disciples’ feet.
If the town did not welcome them or failed to listen to their words, they shook the dust off.
Shaking the dust of that town off their feet would send a strong message of rebuke.
Not even a particle of dust from that town was to remain on them.

I thought of the dirt at the sunflower field.
I thought of the dirt on the little girl and on my granddaughter’s sneakers.
We did not shake the dirt off our feet.
It was good dirt.

It was dirt from a field of beauty.
It was from a field that is making people stop and smile.
It was from a place that begs you to stop for a while.
It was from a place that exudes beauty, peace, friendship, and a sense of community.

We went to lunch after our time in the sunflower field.
My granddaughter’s pink sneakers looked fine.
We made a memory thanks to a young man who wanted to do something for our community.
One wooden sign said it all.

How cool is it that the God who created sunsets and oceans and galaxies, thought the world needed one of you.

No shaking the dust off our feet here!

Photo courtesy of Gunther Sunflower Field