My parish has this tall wooden cross planted in front of the church. At Christmas and Easter it is festooned with fairy lights: the rest of the year it's bare; a simple, stark reminder of our redemption, and the self-giving love and sacrifice at the heart of our faith.
Some sunflowers recently appeared at its foot, their bright splash of colour immediately catching my eye. I haven't yet asked who put them there, or replenishes them; I only know that on a grey, cloudy day like yesterday (when I took this photo), they were an especially welcome display of sunshine and positivity, richly gleaming in the damp drabness. Saturday was a day of brilliantly blue skies, warmth and summer's end's last hurrah; yesterday was no less mild, but filled instead with drizzle and unbroken cloud, with today, thus far, promising a combination of the two. And yet those sunflowers continue to turn upwards, to where they know - just know - the sun must be, hidden beyond that impenetrable grey blanket...
Sunflowers symbolise several things, one of them being unwavering faith, because of their constant orientation towards the light, however weak it might be. Because of this constant orientation, sunflowers also symbolise loyalty, love and adoration, and as I gazed at these ones, I couldn't help thinking of the women at the foot of the Cross. Women of strong, unwavering loyalty and love, their gaze constantly, resolutely turned towards the One they sought only to comfort and sustain by their presence, even as their whole world turned unbearably dark.
And I thought too of hope... of finding and sowing seeds of hope amid the pain and wounds of our fractured world... and of the call to find and be God's light, especially in a time of encroaching, increasingly violent darkness. Not only today, when we are especially urged to pray and fast for peace, but every day.
What do these sunflowers say to you?
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