Volunteers

Matt's Wild Cherry -- in October

Four summers ago, I started some tomato seeds of a variety named “Matt’s Wild Cherry.” The seeds did well, and I planted the seedlings in a straw bale in my kitchen garden. The plants were prolific, bearing clusters of tiny sweet tomatoes all summer and well into the fall. That winter, we dug up that part of the yard to put down some pavers. In the spring, though, there were tomatoes growing all around the new parking area. The next year: more tomato plants, coming up everywhere. This year, there were still more tomato plants, dozens of them! they are still sprouting here at the end of October. In the gardening world, these are called volunteers: plants that grow on their own without being deliberately planted. 

There is another kind of volunteer, of course. As the dictionary defines it: a person who freely offers to take part in an enterprise or undertake a task. I am a volunteer for several organizations in our area. It is deeply satisfying work, for the most part, and I hope that I am making a difference. 

I’m not a tomato, exactly, but like the volunteer plants in my yard, my own volunteering stems from the actions of others in seasons past. I grew up in a family where people stepped in and stepped up to do what was needed, freely and generously. I watched my parents give money to the church even when the crops were failing. My father gave time and attention as a board member of our small local hospital. My mother navigated the red tape of social security for a neighbor who could not do that on her own. When anyone was in trouble or needed emergency money or food, my parents always provided it, never expecting (and usually not receiving…) any reimbursement. My brother has been part of Angel Flights, piloting his small plane to take people to distant medical appointments. My sister has raised thousands – thousands! -- of dollars through our little church to benefit victims of domestic violence, families of those who are incarcerated, hungry children, and folks devastated by the hurricane. 

My brother, sister, and I are rooted in a culture of serving others. Like my everlasting tomato plants, we are volunteers, growing here not by our own efforts but from seeds planted long ago. I hope our little fruits are good and plentiful!