Monday, September 16, 2019

Let me be a pool of clear water today. Let them come from miles around to drink. Let me be constantly renewing. Let me flow freely for all.

The sun beats on this parched land. Let me ease those who thirst. There is more than enough.

(Letter #1,710)

Sunday, September 15, 2019

My thoughts are full of motion and energy, bees buzzing from spot to spot, resisting order and calm.

Lord, slow these movements, quiet me. This morning devotion is not a time for effort.

Make me willing to rest and hear your will.

(Letter #1,709)

Saturday, September 14, 2019

You have granted me ability to return to ease after disturbance. After calamity comes gratitude for repair and safe harbor.

I am thankful for having been saved, for improvement in my temporal experience. Yet greater is my appreciation for the repair of my thoughts and attitudes.

O! Lord, let my doubts and self-seeking wither.

(Letter #1,708)

Friday, September 13, 2019

How willing am I, really, to do your will?

I hold back, lest I become depleted. I fear discomfort and so turn away from the hard path. I think of my own aims before others’.

Lord, reverse me. Let me spend my energies, take the hard road, place myself last.

Surely your will for me is to be no miser. Let me give away my treasure.

(Letter #1,707)

Thursday, September 12, 2019

I am so grudging in my outlook. I align my will with yours, dear Lord, but it is only with reluctance.

I pretend altruism, fellow feeling, faith. Deep within, I value most my own advancement.

Reverse and upend these attitudes. Let me willingly place myself at the margins of the world.

(Letter #1,706)

Wednesday, September 11, 2019

I grasp for distraction after distraction. I begin and begin, abandoning each effort for the new.

I am a bird, hopping from branch to branch.

Grant me steadfastness, Lord. Let me bring care and attention to my actions, devotion to my footsteps.

Let me be purposeful today.

(Letter #1,705)

Tuesday, September 10, 2019

I scan the horizon, fear in my throat. What will visit me? How long until it is upon me? Unmoored worry, a cloud drifting through my thoughts.

Yet of what am I afraid? I cannot name my fears. They are spirits, false.

Lord, blow through my inner life a stiff wind. Sweep away these hovering clouds. Let me blink, clear eyed, at the view across the valley. No hosts gather, no calamities lurk. Bright skies.

Whisper to me, Lord, that I may unclench my jaw.

(Letter #1,704)