Among the dried leaves on our porch are three acorns,
Fruit of the majestic oak shading our driveway
And reaching out to touch our roof. This tree, shaken
By yesterday's intermittent rain-laden wind,
Has begun its yearly transformation. Green leaves,
Paling into yellow, then drying into brown,
Begin to loosen from the tree as their stems dry.
With their shaken shedding, acorns fall to the ground.
Some are transported, planted, and cultivated
By no aid of man-made tools held in human hands.
On our porch, three acorns, more than storm winds' rubbish,
Remind me that small things, far too often despised,
May well bear within their meek and meager substance
Potential, promise for towering achievement.
Our Lord has so designed a seeming paradox:
A nut that fits inside a mere squirrel's sure grasp
Hides the power of a mighty, massive oak tree;
A rebel, coward heart changed by God's saving grace
Holds the awesome power of Christ through the Presence
Of His imparted, quickening Holy Spirit.

God works power from meekness, strength from dire weakness.

(Scripture references: Psalm 1:1-3, Isaiah 6:13, Zechariah 4: 6, 10)