The Painter of Sunflowers

I printed the car ride scavenger hunt form and brought it along to pick up my seven-year-old granddaughter, Addison, who was going to spend the day with me. Our first stop would be the movie theater to see Peter Rabbit. Although the theater is not far away, I knew Addison would enjoy the scavenger hunt, even for the short ride. It’s something we do regularly.

True to form, Addison got started on the scavenger hunt right away and checked off most of the items by the time we arrived at the theater.

While Peter Rabbit received no more than three stars by most movie critics (and I can agree with some of their arguments), I found it to be delightful for the following reasons. I thought the mixed media of live action with animation was brilliant and beautiful. I was awed at the splendor of the English countryside, its cottages and abundant gardens, profuse in colorful vegetables and bright sunflowers, and of course the adorable bunnies featured throughout. Immediately I was caught up in the plot, recognizing the familiar tale by Beatrix Potter and enjoying the twist that involved a manipulative heir to the McGregor estate falling in love with his next door neighbor, Bea (short for Beatrix?), an artist who paints pictures of rabbits and nature and is a mother-like figure to Peter and his triplet sisters and cousin. Although not true in real life, Bea says that rabbits touch foreheads to apologize. This becomes a motif throughout the movie and lends itself to a heartwarming happy ending.

When we left the theater, I was still basking in the beauty of the movie’s scenery, even more so when the weather of the day seemed to complement it. Addison and I then decided to enjoy a fast-food picnic at the waterfront, followed by a walk skirting the shoreline. Still not ready to cap off the afternoon, we elected to take on the challenge of a sunflower maze at a nearby farm.

We were immediately struck by the lavish flower garden that greeted us at the edge of the parking area—zinnias in a myriad of colors and bountiful blue butterfly bushes, beckoning brightly colored winged insects. A feast for the eyes!

Although reluctant to leave the breathtaking array, we ventured toward the barn to pay our admission, sign a waiver (due to possible bee stings and perilous groundhog holes) and, yes, pick up an insect scavenger hunt for Addison. Papers in hand, including a map of the maze, its design inspired by Vincent Van Gogh’s painting, Starry Night, we made our way to its entrance and chose our path lined by stately sunflowers.

We soon became quite aware of why we signed the waiver. Bees buzzed all around. We tried to move quickly past them, but there were more up ahead. We ducked to miss them and the overarching sunflowers. With all the distractions, it was difficult to focus on the map. When we came to a fork in the path, we decided to follow two seemingly knowledgeable young ladies, but we didn’t want them to know we were following them, so we hung back. The next time we came to a fork, the ladies weren’t there, so we ventured on our own. Then Addison heard the voices of the ladies coming from a different direction and suggested we turn around and walk toward them. When we caught up, I confessed. They laughed. One explained, “Well, we tried all the other ways too and they weren’t right, so this has to be the way.”

Confident in their lead and how they consulted their map, we followed the ladies. Numbered signs were set up along the path as clues that we were headed in the right direction—and to provide some inspirational reading. Each sign featured information about artists and paintings. As we were making our way from sign to sign, a rabbit hopped across our path. We chuckled at the irony since we had just watched Peter Rabbit hop across the garden path in the movie.

We continued plodding along, at times hopping ourselves over fallen flowers, pushing back those that were blocking our access, bypassing bees, and being sure to check them off the scavenger hunt list. We turned left and we turned right until eventually the end was in sight. We conquered the maze and posed for a “happy ending” picture.

Included with our admission price was the opportunity to cut five flowers to take home, a sweet reward for finishing the journey. Both Addison and I decided to cut zinnias, which are dear to my heart. They were the first flowers I ever planted. I still remember my mother handing the package to me when I was a little girl about Addison’s age and how I meticulously dropped the seeds in the prepared soil and waited till they burst forth in splendor.

Addison and I surveyed the rows of zinnias and chose carefully. She cut two pink ones, two purple, and one red. I chose one in each of the following: yellow, orange, fuchsia, pink, and purple. I wished I had cut a red one too. The clerk banded our bouquets.

Then Addison noticed the watercolor station, a free activity she wanted to try. I watched as she took great care in painting brushstrokes of color, sitting straight up, saying not a word. I decided to join in and took a seat beside her. With our bouquets next to our easels, we drew inspiration and went about, each of us, painting watercolor flowers. There was an unexplainable calm that came over me in that quiet space, sacred even, as both of us worked side by side, using our creativity to make something new.

By the time we finished our paintings, we were dismayed to see that our flowers had wilted in the 85°F heat. I knew we had to place them in water quickly, but I had my doubts as to whether they would revive.

As soon as we got home, I removed the rubber band from Addison’s bouquet and noticed that the stem of her once robust red zinnia was now broken at a 90° angle. Oh, no! With little hope, I still placed it along with the others in a water-filled vase, propping it up on the edge. I did the same with my bouquet and prayed out loud, “Oh, Lord, please revive our flowers.”

Still in scavenger hunt mode, Addison decided to create some of her own and delved into drawing with colored pencils and paper. One hunt was farm-related and the other nature.

Minutes later I turned my attention to the flowers and gasped. The once curled petals were now outstretched, and the red zinnia was miraculously standing tall, no longer broken. “Look, Addison! God answered our prayers!”

“I think He answered them because you pray a lot.”

It warmed my heart to hear her say that, but I explained that God hears everyone’s prayers and is attentive to their needs.

After she finished her nature scavenger hunt list, we took a walk to my mother’s house, also on the farm, to check off items along the way. When we reached her yard, we spotted a rabbit. As we approached, it remained perfectly still, as if posing for a photo. I was amazed and quickly snapped a picture. Why are all these rabbits crossing our path today?

But it was more than the rabbits. The recurrence of sunflowers, scavenger hunts, and artists also gave me pause. What does this mean? As Addison and I chatted about it, I knew it was more than coincidence and I intended to ask God about the meaning of these motifs.

First I had to ask Addison’s mother if she could spend the night. We were having too much fun for our time to end. Besides, we had scavenger hunts to complete. One was the car ride scavenger hunt that I had given her at the start of our day. She still had not found a train, which would be quite difficult in our county. I knew we had to take a trip.

The next morning we drove into La Plata. I was bent on taking Addison to the historic train station on Kent Avenue, so she could see the red caboose. As we turned onto Kent, I had to immediately step on the brake to keep from bumping into a stopped public transportation van, loading and unloading commuters. Addison noticed the name on its back door, “Look! VanGO, just like the painter!”

I burst out laughing. God, you do have a sense of humor!

I passed the van and turned into the museum parking lot. We exited the car. Addison posed for a photo in front of the red caboose and then checked the final item off her scavenger hunt, which seemed so apropos since the caboose is the final car of a train.

After I took Addison home, I hunted for some answers. I jotted down the recurrences. I tried to find a common thread, a message in the happenings. I talked to God and this is what I learned.

Our lives are like scavenger hunt paths designed by God, the Master Artist, the painter of sunflowers and starry nights, zinnias and bunnies, children and grandchildren. He places His signs of beauty along the way to get our attention, to make us stop and ponder the created and consider the Creator (see Romans 1:20). Even pain and pitfalls, like bee stings and groundhog hole missteps, are placed with purpose—to draw us closer to Him. God wants us to cry out to Him when we experience pain, when we fall, when we’re lost, and when we need a miracle. He hears us and is attentive to our needs. Sometimes He uses other people to help us along the way, like the two knowledgeable ladies, mentors who have tried all the wrong ways themselves and now know which way is right, those who have consulted the map and are more mature in the faith. It doesn’t matter how we get to God, as long as we get there. Our journeys are as unique as vehicles. Whether we go by car, van, train, or on foot is not important, as long as we go in the right direction. And we need to celebrate the milestones, those victories along the way. Stop and take pictures to remember God’s faithfulness, like erecting stones of remembrance (see Joshua 4:1-7). Share them with others to increase their faith. Talk about them when we walk along the road (Deuteronomy 6:7). Laugh at God’s sense of humor (Proverbs 17:22). Love and touch foreheads.

We need to be wary of life’s distractions, those pesky happenings that keep us from our journey and overwhelm us with busyness that has no lasting value. We need to consult the map ourselves and learn to discern voices. Know who to follow and who to ignore. We must not be jealous of the red flowers, what others have, but be grateful for our own blessings. Pursue our own purpose.

Just as Beatrix Potter authored The Tale of Peter Rabbit, God has authored the story of our lives. It’s up to us to live it out, allow it to come to life like a movie.

We were all created in the image of God. And if God is a Creator, we too are made to create. We have gifts and talents to use in creating pathways to Him. Whether a painter, a writer, or a gardener, we can use our creativity to sow seeds of faith into a child’s heart.

What are your gifts? What can you do today to point others in the right direction?