Volunteers in Waste Places

Nobody plants them nobody but God
And they could not be planted better than
They are as they grow though you might not see
Where they are blooming as fast as they can
In so-called waste places broken and odd
Which they turn into paradises of
Beauty where ugliness gives up to love
Where brokenness is kissed by harmony

These are the flowers we call volunteers
They fruit and seed and are scattered to be
Sown in the shadows and watered with tears
Yet bloom bold even heroic somehow
Like angels who dance where devils have trod
We always need them but especially now
That so little else and so few are free
I understand you friends: be strong stand tall

Bloom through our darkness point us toward the light
You just might be the ones to save us all
Brighten our brief day before our long night
In so-called waste places broken and odd
Which you turn into paradises of
Beauty where ugliness gives up to love
Like angels who dance where devils have trod
Nobody plants you nobody but God

+Steven Curtis Lance



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