Brownie, the Little Acorn

Brownie, the Little Acorn
©2000, Janet K. Poludniak

Hi there, I'm Brownie.
I'm not sure we've met,
but do I have a story to tell . . .
so please listen closely,
because you might know me;
either way, it's a story that's swell . . . .

There once was an acorn, tiny and green,
who grew in a big oak tree—
on a branch way up high;
he could see the sky—
I know, cause that acorn was me.

It was so much fun
to bask in the sun,
to sway there with every breeze,
but I don't mind confessing,
the rain was refreshing;
with its pitter-pat sound on the leaves.

My friends—hung close by—
began to ask, "Why
were we placed in this old oak tree."
I said, "I've no clue,"
and questioned, "Do you?"
One said, "It's a mystery to me!"

We lived there a while
in pretty good style,
stuck close in all kinds of weather,
but one day, we changed.
I cannot explain,
I felt as light as a feather.

Life's changes can bring
a most curious thing—
for the leaves turned golden, then brown.
My friends—and I, too—
turned a dark golden hue;
as we watched, leaves fell to the ground.

We didn't understand—
it was part of God's plan—
so we worried and fretted a bit.
Then a big gust of wind
broke us off from our limb
and we tumbled down, down ‘til we hit.

We landed with ease
on the cushion of leaves
that had fallen ahead of our time.
I felt awfully dizzy;
I was all in a tizzy
'bout questions that ran through my mind

'til a big, gray squirrel—
his fluffy tail all awhirl—
carried my two friends away.
I never knew
where he took those two!
I wonder ‘bout them to this day!

Then the weather grew chilly—
and I know that it's silly—
but I began to feel so alone
'til some stout, little boys
came with their toys—
they'd pull, they'd push, they'd groan.

One stepped—without grace—
his foot square in my face,
'til I lost my little brown hat.
It hurt really bad . . . .
They didn't even seem sad!
Can you imagine that?

The next thing I knew,
they came back, dashing through,
not being careful at all!
I felt such dread,
then one step cracked my head
before they could hear me call.

My pain was severe—
I could not stop the tear—
crying, "What will my fate be?"
Then a comforting voice
said, "This is My choice.
It is breaking that sets you free."

Is this what's in store?
Had I heard that before
as a whisper among the leaves?
I didn't feel well;
my tiny tears fell,
but they seemed my pain to ease.

I thought for awhile
how I'd lived in such style
way up at the top of that tree;
Then I cried out in pain,
"If the breaking is gain,
what's to become of me?"

His answer came clear—
His whisper so near—
"You'll become a mighty oak tree.
That's what acorns do."
Could these words be true?
I could only wait to see.

The weather grew colder!
I felt so much older!
Then I saw the first falling snow
'til it obscured my gaze
and it stayed dark for days;
I finally just had to let go.

How long, I don't know,
I lived ‘neath the snow;
when it melted, I saw a bright glow,
and to my surprise,
when I opened my eyes,
my seed had begun to grow.

I can clearly recall
my wonder at it all—
God had a plan just for me;
He had reasons why
He placed me so high—
way up in that old, oak tree.

Years have passed, some bleak,
but I still hear Him speak,
now He whispers among my leaves,
so I give Him a smile,
wave my branches a while
to praise Him for breaking me.

The tree where I grew
is now gone from view,
but I was deliberately placed in that tree.
His love put me there
and kept me with care
to be all I was planned to be.

From an acorn to an oak—
my trek was no joke—
but the breaking liberated my worth.
But I had to let go,
and now, friend, I know—
He puts the oak in the acorn at birth.

He must break everyone,
so don't try to run;
the breaking will make you grow.
It may be hard to take,
but make no mistake,
God's plan is the best! I know.

Story ID:	3835
Written by:	JANET KESSLER POLUDNIAK (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Organization:	JUST ME
Story type:	Poem
Location:	Groton NY USA
Year:	2004
Person:	Those enduring pain, suffering and loss.