Acorn

Sometimes I feel like an acorn scattered by a great oak washed down hillside and ravine eluding raven, rodent, rot eventually nestling safely in God’s dear bosom  Long I lay dormant, wordlessly nourished by His wisdom watered by His truth warmed by His love patiently, expectantly awaiting His Word  Then one day a great stirring a light from within, a newness as I shyly peek through the soil as my tender stem and branches reach meekly skyward and my tiny leaves unfurl  Each morning I greet with hope and purpose lodging bird and bee breasting breeze and torrent enduring drought, beetle, blaze unfolding more of the wisdom, Love, and grandeur from which I’m fashioned   As my true selfhood dawns trunk and limbs grow strong roots firm and deep canopy broad and majestic no longer looking up from earth but out from on high silently thankful for my humble station and for God’s unwavering, tender care for all His creation. —Chris Jones.