Waiting for Sunflowers

We planted the small, flat striped seeds in April just after the last spring snow.  "Matures in 90 days!" the seed packet boasted, and in anticipation we pressed each tiny bundle of life firmly into the tilled soil with dreams of bold, bright yellow flowers dancing in the warm, July days to come.  When I was a little girl, my mother and I would plant sunflowers.  I remember peeling open the faded, white envelope with "Sunflowers" and the date in Mother's handwriting scrawled across the back side.  Inside were the seeds she'd saved from last summer's sunflower crop. I can remember the excitement as the seedlings first sprouted, as tiny as my little pinkie finger, and as they soon became the tallest towers in the garden.

May came and finally our sunflowers sprouted, joining the crowd of tomatoes, peppers, beans, marigolds, onions, carrots and sweet peas that had already shown their newborn faces in our new little garden.  Throughout the warm summer days of May and June we faithful watered and weeded and watched them grow and grow...and grow.   As July made its entrance, our sunflowers were already looming high above the rest of the maturing plants and by month's end they had grown to a impressive 10-feet tall.  Down below, we picked the first of the cherry tomatoes, pulled tiny carrots, snacked on sweet peas, cut lettuce, and harvested bagfuls of green beans.   But no sunflowers.

The 90 days came and went and each day we eagerly check for any signs of yellow.  Day in and day out, nothing.  We've become a bit obsessed and bring our cameras every day now to see if today is the day the green heads will burst with color.   And every day they have still not bloomed.   Sure, sure, we're still picking beans and onions and cucumbers and squash and lettuce, but where are our sunflowers?!

Isn't this just how we roll? We get so focused on something we want, most desperately, and in the waiting for that specific thing to bloom we miss the millions of miracles happening around me every day.   I know I do.  As I wait (and worry, and worry, and worry) I waltz right past my oh-so-likable son playing and singing on the guitar.  I take for granted the way my daughters can run like the wind.  I shrug at the  warm, cozy bed I sleep in each night, the work I've been so graciously provided to earn my keep, the delicious food awaiting my consumption in the fridge, the dear friends who check in on my all the time and a family that is (and has always been) solid and secure.   I spend so much time waiting and worrying about my 'sunflowers'  that I'm not seeing the bounty and beauty that surrounds me.

I can't wait for those sunflowers to bloom.  They truly will be a spectacular sight to see.  But until they do, I aim to remember that they simply will be a lovely ADDITION to the gorgeous garden God's already provided.