Are you intercessor, or author? Can one friend be both?

The last minute rescue dazzles me in hindsight. I was then so grateful, now so amazed. If I knew it were coming, what would my thoughts have been prior?

Faith. Trust. Power. Peace.

Rescue is coming, let us rejoice in its assurance.

(Letter #2,795)

New day, new sun, new path. New self.

Yet this day dawns like all the ones previous, with slow red sky and stirring creatures. Is it then new? Am I then new?

Changeable me, Lord, let me see the road as the one I have walked before. There is newness and renewal; let me discern the difference.

Renewed day, renewed me.

(Letter #2,794)

Shall I hold back and pace myself, in case my strength is not sufficient to the day?

Or shall I exert all, knowing times of rest will come as they are needed?

Let me abandon myself to each moment, Lord, secure that you know my capacities.

(Letter #2,793)

From the banks, I look at the flowing river and marvel at its might. Dry, the current does not touch me.

Wading by the shore, I easily walk. There is only a weak tug at my ankles.

Let me move to the center of the river and there receive the full power of the current. I can scarce stand as I am pulled along. Here, my oar strokes are multiplied. My boat hurtles forward.

Let me do your will today, Lord, and feel you at my back.

(Letter #2,792)

Why fear the burdens this day delivers to me? A yoke on my shoulders, weary bones — but in the cart I pull is a heap of treasure, and I go through the village giving it away piece by piece.

Who could not love such a duty?

The treasure is good news. There is a plan. The word is this: All is well. All will be well. We are all well.

(Letter #2,791)

I have heard your secret voice, whispered in my ear at dawn. The wind howled outside the door, yet I heard you murmur to me.

What did you say? All is well.

A whisper overcoming thunder.

Let me open the door, walk into the wind, confident in faith.

All will be well.

(Letter #2,790)

Does rescue bring joy? Then I shall needs be imperiled.

Does surrender being peace? Then I shall needs be vanquished.

In the morning, troops gather for a noon battle. The afternoon brings gnashing of teeth, yet tomorrow the sun rises on unclenched jaws and open hands. Who lost? Who won? What changed?

Tomorrow’s sun is the same as today’s. Let me love my life on the battle plain.

(Letter #2,789)

Morning dawns and I pray for intercession. I hope for rescue.

Where, then, is faith? Hope is inconstant, tentative, pleading. If I have faith, I am then confident of rescue, assured that all is well.

Grant me faith, Lord, so much so that gossamer hope becomes unnecessary.

(Letter #2,788)

Slowly, slowly go I.

The forest grows around me in a riot. Downpours and windstorms.

Slow yet more, and sit. Under a canopy, calm can gather its strength.

Let me be an oasis, Lord, for them and for me. Be here in my presence, while I am in yours.

(Letter #2,787)

If I saw tomorrow’s path, could I bear it? If it contain trial, today would be consumed by worry. If reward, then today would be given over to anticipation.

Let me walk today’s path today — with gratitude for limited sight.

If I knew tomorrow, it would rob me of today.

All is well. All will be well.

(Letter #2,786)