Seeing sunflowers

Last weekend I wandered into an art and crafts fair near my home. Pausing by a stall with bright scarves and artwork, my attention was caught by a postcard of a painting of golden sunflowers under a clear blue sky. A month ago I might have walked on. I'd have simply seen sunflowers... I might have thought of sunshine and smiley faces, or of Look towards God and be radiant, from Psalm 34... I might even have thought of Van Gogh or Impressionism... but now... now I only saw blue and yellow, the colours of the Ukrainian flag. Now, seeing sunflowers, I think immediately of Ukraine - and I stop walking.

I checked the artist's name on her business cards, then talked to the artist herself, striking in her bright yellow jumper. Yes, she is Ukrainian. And suddenly we are talking, not about scarves and bluebells and sunflowers, but about war; about death and destruction, and the safety of her family and friends. Brought together by flowers which normally bring joy and optimism and speak of sunlight, we talk instead about darkness, anguish and pain.

I bought a postcard: it now sits where I can easily see it, and where the sun alights on it during its travels around the room. I told the artist that whenever I look at the postcard I will remember to pray for Ukraine - and indeed I do, even if the prayer is the most fleeting of invocations. Now, as in other times, it is almost all I can do; but it is what I can do, and that is what counts...