I never knew sunflowers grew in a bunch like this around a stem. Before realizing this, my eyes mainly gravitated towards the largest, bright bloom.
My perspective of these giant blooms was limited. The only sunflowers I’ve regularly encountered were the single long stems sold at grocery stores or flower shops. Also, my kids and I once planted a sunflower seed and only one flower bloomed.
Then one day, the top flower was snapped off leaving only a green stem sticking out of the pot. The culprit I surmise was a mischevious squirrel.
Untamed sunflowers in nature are wildly free and beautiful.
Something fun about buckets and pails. When my kids find an empty, round vessel around, they can’t resist: they have to at least try to sit in it, stand in it, squeeze into it, or put it on their heads.
The other day my kids helped me wash vegetables; when they were done, the rinsing bowl went missing. As you can see in the picture below, Ellis said she was a robot and started chasing her brother. Both took turns.
Windows offer glimpses of new openings, views, paths, and the potential experiences within each place. The breeze it carries in and/or the sunlight it penetrates refresh and renews what is stale. That’s how I feel about an expansive, tall window located in the main hall of the Stanford hospital.
When I wander down this hall, I’m usually in a panicked, exhausted state as Ellis is undergoing and/or recovering from a medical procedure. Although my body is present and walking purposefully to that coffee stand in the cafe for that extra shot of espresso in my iced-coffee, my mind is stuck in a war zone.
But this window makes me literally pause in my steps and in my mind. I look around to see people’s faces, wonder what brings them here, what we all hope for, as well as thank God for all the amazing doctors, nurses, and staff. I’m reminded of how much God has and continues to bless me through these experiences (even through all of my kicking and screaming).