Let me be no exotic flower, growing in a hothouse under elaborate care.
Let me be a stalk of wheat, that I may become bread to feed the ones building a school.
Let me be the oak under whose shade a new awakening is found.
If I am to be a flower, Lord, let me be one of the wild ones that grow along the highway at the exit to your home.
Let me be one of the ordinary, soaking in your warmth that I may cheer others.