Becoming
yellowish green acorns
surround my sneakers
with their smooth ridges
and checkered caps
strewn about by the new autumn breeze
holding promise of a bigger life
and better things.
I find a perfect one and
slip it into my pocket
turning it over in my fingers
my mind turns too,
thinking about You
and of this place
You have brought me to;
this space I am in,
this bend in the road
this space where it feels
the growing is slow,
and hard,
and painful at times,
and I think of the days
I’d rather hide
than face the truth that
I have to let go
to find what’s new
it’s in the shedding
and hiding
and dying in the dark, wet dirt
that things take root
and are birthed.
and then comes the stretching
and reaching
up towards the sky
where roots dig deep
and branches reach high
You tell me it’s ok,
to be
in …the… middle,
the place of not yet
and still to come.
You honor the work
and all that we’ve done
You invite me to
celebrate
And sing over me,
For in the becoming
I am being set free.
Isaiah 61:3
“They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his splendor.”