The Sunflower

simplicity // 13
the Sunflower

Last year, the media reported the story of Kate Greene, who died from cancer, having been first diagnosed in 2008.

One night, she awoke at around 4am, fearing that she wouldn’t make it through till daybreak, and so she asked her husband urgently to fetch her a pen and paper, and she began to write down her thoughts. She compiled what turned out to be a list for her husband and two young boys of a hundred simple points of common sense, advice, principle and wonder.

“Always kiss the boys goodbye and goodnight,” she wrote.
“Teach them to be on time, and to mean what they say.”
“Try to eat together.”
“Teach them to respect women, and never double date.”
“Never leave more than a week before making up – life is too short.”

In the face of her own mortality, Mrs Greene drew deep – and her searing clarity makes you ask whether life must really be so complex after all. She distilled the essence of what she loved to do, and wished she could have done, for the sake of her children. “Mummy,” she wrote, “would have loved to have hand-fed a wild robin, like she used to feed the squirrels.”

For most of us, hopefully, there is still time for such inspiring things. Her list certainly makes you wonder, and wonder is good for the soul.

“Grow a sunflower now and again,” she wrote. I think that’s my favourite, for its simplicity and creativity and boldness. And there is something about a sunflower…

The best time to grow one is after the last frost in spring. So why not do so, as a fitting memorial both to Kate Greene, and to her simple idea; to engage in a creative act that could help us to search ourselves, and to ask what truly matters, in the end.


*     *     *

action point:

Grow a sunflower.

Or, compile your own note of simple wisdom – for someone you love, or even just for us...


*     *     *

rsvp:

“(re: “the Kingfisher”) In The Nine faces of God, Peter Hannan talks about “the dream in the acorn” which directs its growth to become a unique oak tree. He says that our lives, too, are directed by a dream God has built into us, but we differ from the oak tree in that the fulfilment of our dream is not automatic. We have to get in touch with it and decide to take responsibility for its realisation. In 70 years of life, I have seen God's dream for me constantly unfolding in all he has called me to do; teaching, marriage and children, ordination. For this I came, to fulfil the inbuilt dream God has for me. In retirement, what next, Lord?” Diana

“For this I came: Myself it speaks and spells, ‘SINGING’. What I do is me: for that I came. ‘When I sing, I feel His pleasure...’” Stuart

“For these I came: (1) a table crafted, also some sketches and a painted scene or (2) and jottings prose and poetry, (as Job), (3) daughters, one hundred thousand conversations, and a sheep-fence in a Devon wood.” Julian

“For this I came: how can one finish this without sounding arrogant or conceited? I grew up being constantly told that I was a failure and would not achieve; when someone tells you this often enough, anything that follows that is good in your life, like when you receive a lovely compliment, you find it hard to accept that anyone really means it. Who me? But at this time, in this space, this moment, I am filled with God’s comforting and loving Holy Spirit... I have moved forward in God’s love, with fellowship and sharing, leading prayer at church, reading scripture for the minister on Sundays, running a Lent course, so, if ‘for this I came’ then that is enough in itself and I am content. May God’s wonderful peace and love be with all who might read this.” Sue

“I had tears in my eyes as I read “the Child’s View”, thinking about the simplicity, honesty and liveliness of my children when they were younger, and your suggestion that that’s how our faith/Christian walk should be.” John

“At the weekend I met with all my cousins and sister. Among the photos from the past was one of me when I was – yes, you guessed it – 7 years old! ‘What’s with your hair, Daphne?’ was the cry of one of my cousins. A standard British basin cut for all to see! I think I need to write a letter reminding myself not to listen to my mother, who used to say, ‘Never get in to the grips of a hairdresser – they’ll fleece you.’” Daphne


*     *     *

May you stand tall, today.
Go well!

Brian