Planting Acorns of Compassion

 

When I think about what it means to give of myself, I hear Carlyle’s words,

“When the oak is felled, the whole forest echoes with its fall, but a hundred acorns are sown in silence by an unnoticed breeze.”

Loss is loud. When someone stumbles or a life comes undone, the sound ripples through a community, shaking all who witness it. We notice the fall. We hear the echo.

But giving of oneself is quieter. It’s the acorn in the hand, the seed carried on a breeze. It isn’t a headline—it’s presence, listening, time, patience, encouragement. It’s not about being noticed; it’s about being real.

To give of myself means scattering parts of my own strength, my own lessons, my own love, so that others might root and rise in their own season. It is not sacrifice for the sake of loss, but a planting for the sake of life.

When my own oak one day falls, I hope its echo won’t be my only legacy. I hope the unseen acorns I’ve given—moments of kindness, courage, and compassion—will already be taking root, growing into forests I may never see, but that someone else will find shade beneath.