They started out as volunteers.
Sunflower seeds, dropped by the birds at our feeder, became new sunflower plants. First one, then another and another and another, all sprouting at different times, each growing taller and taller and taller. But all they put out were leaves. No flowers, just leaves. Every morning I would go and stare into the tight clusters of leaves at the top of each plant, looking for even a speck of yellow suggesting that a flower was on the way. A flower that never seemed to appear. Just more leaves. I was tempted to pull them out. I mean what good are you if you aren’t going to give me some flowers?
Then one day, in the center of one of those green clenched fists, a hint of yellow appeared. Two days later, it was a full-on sunflower. And while each of those plants had appeared at different times, and had been growing for a different amount of days, each one, as if on cue from the first sunflower to bloom, followed suit. Somehow, the flowering of the one triggered the flowering of the many. Somehow, one sunflower led to another sunflower, and another and another and another. It was like an explosion of joy, that all started when one flower decided it was time to bloom.
Maybe that’s how it is with us humans, too. Maybe the flowering of the one triggers the flowering of the many. Our joy leading to more joy, our courage to more courage, our grace to more grace.
Maybe we are the volunteers, called to bloom right where we are planted, so that others will follow suit.
There are of course, two sides to this sunflower coin, so we best be careful what we bring forth.
