SUNFLOWER MORNING

Carol Schreck

"Hi, Mom and Dad, it’s me. I know you want to keep your 10 vacation days free, but I’d like to make a request that you meet me for an early morning picnic breakfast on Tuesday."

After hearing Rachel’s voicemail, I thought, There’s little in this world I wouldn’t do for my daughter. So I guess it will be an early morning start on Tuesday. Peter, my husband, readily agreed to Rachel’s request.

The 7:00 a.m. event began as we loaded the picnic basket, two dogs, and the three of us into Rachel’s van. Rachel’s husband, Park, had to work, so he did not accompany us. The 10-minute drive to the secret destination wove through the rolling Chester County countryside with its stone fences, Black Angus cows, and winding country roads.

We pulled up to the Meirick Nature Center, a familiar spot for early morning walks, as evidenced by the enthusiastic tail wagging of the dogs.

We were the only picnickers so it was easy for Rachel to find a table. She opened her basket and spread a blue-and-white checkered tablecloth, napkins, and a feast of fruit, juice, coffee, and still-warm-from-the-bakery sticky buns.

Oh, Lord, what a class act! This daughter of mine gives beauty and presence to everything she does.

After saying grace, Rachel invited us to partake of the bounty. How is it that I can become a delighted child at the table of my adult daughter? Have I got it right or have I conceded my maternal role?

I ate with such joy and abandon that the question of maternal responsibility took wings and vanished. It was a sacred moment; perhaps the highlight of the summer. As we enjoyed the splendid meal, the dogs roamed and hunted, eventually returning to circle our table, now impatient for their walk.

We packed up the picnic basket and set out on a path that looped around cornfields ripe with their fattened ears of corn. The dogs led the way, occasionally darting off the trail, their noses tracking the scent of squirrel, hedgehog, or deer. Our senses were accosted by the silent stillness of this wildlife sanctuary. In hushed voices we marveled at this nature preserve so close to the hustle and bustle and yet so far from the frenetic pace of our daily lives.

As we rounded the final part of the loop, Rachel told us to get ready for a surprise. Sure enough, stretching out in front of us were rows and rows of bright yellow sunflowers; their brilliance caused our eyes to squint. Each flower’s face was turned toward the sun, each standing at attention in perfect lines. Even the thousands of bees and yellow birds darting from flower to flower never caused them to compromise their orderly presence. A golden aura filled the meadow, the sight of which left us speechless as we tried to absorb the moment.

Could my small Olympus camera begin to capture such beauty? I clicked picture after picture of this ocean of gold. Rachel and I swam in the waves of flowers showing only our faces as Peter snapped more pictures.

It was time to leave. Rachel had to get to work. Taking in one last glimpse of that sea of golden flowers, I realized that we humans, too, are most beautiful and perhaps even brilliant, when our faces turn toward the Son, for indeed our very life depends upon the energy provided by God, the Creator and Sustainer of all living things.

This early morning outing, orchestrated by my daughter Rachel, I wouldn’t have missed for the world. What a gift she is and what a gift she gave me on that sunflower summer morning.

—Carol Young Schreck is associate professor of marriage and family at Eastern Baptist Theological Seminary, Wynnewood, Pennsylvania, and a marriage and family therapist at Kairos Counseling Services, Devon, Pennsylvania.