There's nothing I love more than FaceTiming with our Royal Babies. Seeing their innocent faces and bright smiles is all I need to lift my spirits sky high. I never know where the conversation will go; the spontaneity of a child is inimitable. Lately, though, I've noticed a common fork our conversations seem to take. After catching up with school and being silly, we talk about how much we miss seeing each other. They say they wish they could come to Denver. And they all say they wish this virus would just go away. I say meeee toooo.
Because this virus. It just won't stop. And it's exhausting trying to stay ahead of it. I'm doing my part; I'm following our state's guidelines and policies--wearing masks and socially distancing and washing my hands and staying put when possible. I'm trying not to whine, not to deny, not to blame. And, I'm just trying to stay sane.
One of my favorite sanity-saving things to do is just go for a simple drive. And so I planned a little half-day outing to my favorite sunflower field. I set off with my Sonic Coke for refreshment, my phone for my camera, my mom and Sunshine for company, and a summer playlist for background music.
As we approached the turnoff, I felt an almost-forgotten lightness. I couldn't wait to see those happy, bright-yellow, flower faces. Except, when we arrived, I wasn't seeing any yellow. Anywhere. Instead, I saw this
My heart sank. I was smack in the middle of Eliot's Waste Land, staring at "fear in a handful of dust." I was driving though Fitzgerald's Valley of Ashes, "where ashes grow like wheat." Nothing occupied this space but brown and gray, dirt and dust, shock and disappointment.
Last year, this field took my breath away:
I had a "that does it" moment right then and there. I burst into tears. I whined. I blamed. I denied. I hate this damn virus. How can we be in this situation? Why can't people just stay home or wear masks? We need leaders. I want to go shopping and travel to a beach and happy hour with friends. I MISS MY FAMILY!
Then I took a deep breath, dried my eyes, blew my nose, and turned my car around. I heard my little friend Chloe's voice on that drive home. Look for the good. Look for the good. And there it was--goodness everywhere. A sky so blue the ocean must surely be around the corner. A sun so bright no shadows dared to loom anywhere. My mom so full of concern and love nothing else mattered.
Since that drive, I learned that sunflower fields need to rest every several years, giving them a chance to rejuvenate, replenish their oxygen and nitrogen supplies, hydrate, and rid themselves of pests.
I couldn't see the miracle hiding in that dusty sunflower field. I didn't hear its whispers. My heart wasn't there. But I hear it now, letting me in on its secret:
Our world is a tired sunflower field.
A pest has taken over its beauty.
It needs to rejuvenate, rehydrate, replenish
with oxygen and nitrogen
so it can breathe.
It needs to rest,
for a year, for two years.
And then,
refreshed,
it will bloom again.
