Sometimes God births something in the darkness–speaking to a heart in despair.

Such was true last October.

My husband of thirty-six years was one day post-op–cancer having been cut from his body after the weight of its likelihood hanging heavy for nearly a decade.

That’s when God spoke. And the messenger?

A sunflower.

And now, this devotion is a finalist for the 2026 Selah awards.

All glory to God!

“Moses said, ‘Please show me your glory’… And the Lord said, ‘Behold, there is a place by me where you shall stand on the rock, and while my glory passes by I will put you in the cleft of the rock, and I will cover you with my hand until I have passed by. Then I will take away my hand, and you shall see my back, but my face shall not be seen’” (Exodus 33:18, 21-23 ESV).

“I’m gonna get coffee. Need anything—a steak perhaps?”

Reaching over the metal rail of the hospital bed, I squeezed my husband’s hand, careful not to tug on his IV.

“Funny,” Bill replied, a curl to his lips. Less than 24-hours earlier, they’d been taped, holding an intubation tube. “I’ll take the post-procedure pancake special. Extra syrup.” He winked.

I bent to kiss him before closing the door. Outside, I padded through the quiet hallway toward the elevator, the hospital’s cafeteria located three floors below.

Autumn decorations were tucked in corners, “Blessed” and “Give thanks” messages hanging on walls—a reminder that Thanksgiving was drawing closer.

Be grateful—God, be glorified. Be grateful—God, be glorified. 

The mantra played on repeat in my mind—a plea really, my desperate cry to see God in this difficult circumstance.

It had been a hard season, with many dark unknowns, possible lifelong changes with regard to my husband’s health. Though his surgery was behind us, the pathology report was yet to come. What ifs stirred anxiety, and I found myself taking thoughts captive often.

A bright bundle of artificial wheat sat propped against the wall, a gingham ribbon synching its middle. Beside the golden sheaf, a trio of framed photographs—each one depicting a different kind of flower. 

These seem out of place? I thought, so unlike the autumn fanfare.

One flower in particular caught my attention. What is it? Upon closer inspection, I recognized it was a sunflower—a stark contrast to its colorful counterparts, a vibrant orchid and hydrangea. 

Having photographer friends, I understood the importance of capturing subjects from different angles, in varying light, but this?

The sunflower’s beauty was facing away—the photograph’s background gray. Rather than bright yellow florets, observers were given a view of the flower’s receptacle—its backside—with only a glimmer of the plant’s cheerful petals poking upward in a sunless sky.

I did some research, hoping to glean significance to the hospital’s unique rendering of the sunflower.

What I discovered?

While immature sunflowers rotate throughout the day to follow sunlight, mature ones don’t. Instead, they face one direction—trusting the sun (and the apparent lack thereof) at all times for their ultimate best.

Even when beauty seems hidden. Because, having received from the sun all it needs in the past, the mature sunflower can rest—on sunny days as well as under a canopy of clouds.

Indeed, the mature sunflower stands resolute. 

Moses, too, needed a reminder—pleading with God, “Show me Your glory.”

After all, he was dealing with difficult circumstances—the rebellion of the children of Israel seeming, no doubt, like a spreading disease throughout the camp.

And God, in His goodness, answered Moses’s cry, though His face He wouldn’t reveal—only the backside of His beauty.

And that was—is always—enough. 

So, too, for us, friends.

Like the aged sunflower, in our maturity, we’re to trust the Son for all we need—in bright and easy times as well as in dark, difficult days.

Yes, even when the Son doesn’t seem there at all. Because we know—God promises never to leave us.

And where the Son is, it’s always beautiful—no matter our circumstances, with every unknown.

Yes, even on the backside of His beauty, where we rely on what God has done in our lives, in every step of our journey. We, too, can rest. Indeed, we stand resolute. 

And through it all, we can be grateful, and God?

He is glorified.

Kind Father, sometimes we just need to be reminded of Your goodness, especially in dark seasons. With each glimmer, help us be grateful, forever giving You glory. Amen.

*(This appeared first at Arise Daily, November 2025.)*

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And the winner of the book Pursuing Prayer by Penny Cooke is… Sue Walton!

Thank you for participating!