I was pretty sure an acorn grew into a tree. I haven't been in first grade for a while, but I thought I remembered an acorn grew into an oak tree.
I decided I better look it up before I wrote an entire post about it, and alas... an acorn does grow into an oak tree. Wikipedia expounded upon acorns being used in art, cuisine, customs, and as food for various birds and mammals.
When I took the picture of the acorn in my husband's hand this morning, I wasn't thinking about anything but stored potential.
I remembered squirrels collect and store acorns for the winter. And they eat the acorns. And those eaten acorns never reach their calling of becoming a beautiful oak tree.
There are all kinds of books and stories and even a finance app regarding the acorn as a tool for storage, delayed potential, growth.
Here we are, scrolling on our phones or our laptops or our tablets (thank you, dear readers, and I do mean that)...
Did we write that book we wanted to write?
Did we take that ballroom dance class we wanted to take?
Did we belt it at karaoke night like we'd been rehearsing with our brush mic in front of our bathroom mirror? (Okay, Susie did but that was the bottomless margaritas singing, not her true heart's desire to sing on a stage in front of strangers and have someone's heart beat a little faster and someone's eyes water at the sheer sound of her voice... wait, maybe that's just me)?
Did we finally tell our friend we were sorry when we did that thing that's rolled around in the back of our minds for 20 years?
Did we hold our child close to our chest and tell them everything is going to be okay even though we know it might not be okay and we don't want to be the reason they're in therapy later but we don't want to pretend everything is okay, oh my goodness, what is the right answer?
Did we apply for the promotion we know we deserve or let another opportunity pass us by?
Did we sign up for the race we know we aren't ready for but really, really want to try?
Did we tell the person that hurt us repeatedly that they did hurt us and going forward, did we define what we need from them?
Did we look in the mirror this morning and like every single inch of our bodies and every single fiber of our heart and soul because God designed us as a masterpiece, beautifully and wonderfully made, despite society's measuring sticks?
Or, did we remain on the leaf-covered ground like the acorn... waiting for a squirrel or bird or toddler to scoop us up? Were we stored away for another day? Were we consumed before we ever began our destiny?
An oak tree is a beautiful destiny. She is strong, tall, sturdy, and beautiful, with colors that change with the seasons. She provides shelter, shade, and structure. She never leaves us and she stays the same for the most part.
You know what else is beautiful?
A mother who tells her children she has been hurt too, and that it really is all going to be okay. That she KNOWS it's going to be okay, because she is okay and she will help them be okay as long as she is on this earth.
A wife who tells her partner what she needs from them even if she doesn't know if they can give her what she needs.
A friend who tells the truth when asked if she's okay. And a friend who recognizes her own flaws and asks for patience and understanding.
A daughter who can look at her elderly parents and recognize every line on their face and hands for all its good and bad and steadfastness. She can see herself acquiring those same lines and she knows the toll each one has taken. She knows that her own children will see her lines one day, and she hopes they give her the same recognition.
I'm typing this on the porch of a cabin on a lake in north Georgia and the acorns are literally spilling from the treetops hitting the ground HARD and abruptly and with force and determination. Each one comes down on this cabin rooftop or leaf-scattered ground with a POUND or a BOOM or a SNAP. And my heart is full. For I know the destiny of each tiny acorn. She is yearning to become a beautiful oak. She is waiting for her moment to rise.
Now it is your turn. What path will you choose?
Will you make the hard decisions, let your voice be heard, show up for those who love and need you?
Or will you stay on the ground... waiting... watching... allowing life to happen all around you?
I dare you to stand.
I will stand with you.