In this morning’s Star Tribune, I was glad to see a continuation of a story that began in early summer. The paper had followed two gardeners, one a novice and the other seasoned, through the process of planting, tending and harvesting. It was a fascinating study of two people’s desires to know where their food comes from and to be in connection with that process. The first article was filled with the hope and promise of the seeds, the excitement of planting and, for the novice, the learning curve that was being embraced. As the summer has played out, it has become clear that the wisdom of being a gardener is never ending. While the knowledgeable gardener knew where to begin, what to buy, how to plant, etc., today’s article proved once again that, with gardening, you can never truly predict what will happen. Kind of like life, isn’t it?

Gardener Catrina Mujwid-Cole, the long-time gardener remarked that, while the season has been hot and often quite rainy, her yields have been good. She was happy. But when asked what her biggest surprise was she spoke of a ‘volunteer’ pumpkin plant that could have been the collective result of last year’s discarded pumpkin and the frantic activity of a backyard squirrel. Volunteer? I puzzled over this new, at least for me, naming. I have often called the sudden appearance of something I have not planted a mistake or a miracle, depending on my mood when I found the misplaced plant. But I loved the idea of this phenomenon being called a ‘volunteer’!

I can imagine a pumpkin seed jumping up and down: “Take me! Take me! I’ll volunteer to show up in that garden.” Or, as usually is the case in our garden, the volunteer is a sunflower.: “Yes, of course, I’ll volunteer to plant myself in the middle of those dahlias. That will make the humans sit up and take notice.” And then this year, there was the stray little patch of dill that manifested itself in a rocky, bed near the side of our house. Perhaps it volunteered to be present so I could tuck it into the dill pickles that now line our pantry shelves. Which is just what I did.

There is a certain element of sacrifice in volunteering. We see it in the volunteers that offer themselves at our schools and churches, in our communities, our nation and the world. They give of their time, their talents, their gifts, their service to make the world a better place. They lighten the load of others and often stand in the shadows when praise is handed out. Sometimes their volunteer work is planned and thought out. They know exactly where they are going. Other times volunteers, like the pumpkin seed, yield more than anyone can imagine. This was true of the tiny one that showed up to fill Catrina’s garden with a “vine that is taking over my garden, and it’s got a huge pumpkin on it, the size of a basketball.”

Volunteers. The world could not survive without them. And it is certainly a more lush and beautiful place for all the work they contribute. And, sometimes, it is even better when it is all a surprise!