Today, piled upon a heap of yesterdays. Did I learn their lessons? Will I live today with wisdom?

In truth, I am a slow and poor learner. Taught and taught again, must I be. Each day I face dawn with worry, each day I persevere until dusk and yet survive, thrive, even.

You answered the calls of your children only after a night of fruitless fishing. Trying again, after failure, their nets overflowed.

Dawn, I shall try again. Let me meet overflow, Lord.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,571)

You gave me a treasure; I keep it in a plain box that even in wealth I might know humility.

You lifted me up; I keep in sight how low I was that I might remain grateful.

You make my paths straight; I keep a map that I might not yet get lost through arrogance.

I have been asleep in spirit, Lord, awaken me from distraction and trance. Let me seek and do your will today.

(Letter #2,570)

Walking across the high plains, windswept. A bug on a plate. You see me, Lord. All see me.

This is the straight path you promised when earlier I cried out for relief from crooked ways. That time seems so long ago, tucked away in my chambers, warm yet shivering in remorse.

Even now so exposed, naked, let me walk with spine erect, for you are yet with me. This is no ordeal but your loving answer to my prayers.

I give thanks.

(Letter #2,569)

Support. Seated on a chair, which rests on the floor, built upon a foundation, rooted into earth.

Your hands under all. Strength and power flow up, we stand upon rock, my sisters, my brothers, and I.

I am pressed down by the day, yet you press me up equally. Without these duties, I would float away. Without this foundation, I would sink into a grave.

Thank you, Lord, for this solid ground underfoot.

(Letter #2,568)

I have found a way to live, it is with you.

Even as I am elated with glad tidings, I am with you.

Even as I am crushed under poor news, truly I am with you.

Even in the gray, dull space between duties – yea, even here I am with you.

Thy will be done today, Lord, for I am with you.

(Letter #2,567)

I will seek you constantly, even when I will have thought I found you.

How could I have anticipated these gifts you now rain down upon me?

Yea, therefore: I will yet seek. Who knows what may emerge around the next turning?

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,566)

I stand alone in a clearing, sun high, stark.

Is this the training ground, Lord? Will I learn new ways on this spot?

Is this a field of labor? Am I to plow this land?

Or will this, Lord, be a battleground? Are enemy forces even now trickling in and hiding in the trees that surround the meadow?

Grant me willingness, Lord, to rise to any task. You guided my steps and here I stand.

You o’erwatch me, let me make you proud.

(Letter #2,565)

A thief in the night, sneaking in unseen and unheard, came this feeling of well-being.

Drip by drip, uncounted and unnoticed, these drops swelled the cistern and now there is water for all.

Lord, you healed me while my attention was elsewhere, the physician distracting the child.

Now well, now with plenty.

All will be healed, yet my neighbors wail on, in trance. How, then, shall I spread this joy?

(Letter #2,564)

Nothing is too small for your notice. You see me, even in my meagerness.

I am no beast nor mule, but your child. Yet I spend away the hours in play, sand castles that will wash away, gone even for the crabs.

If I am to make small things, Lord, let me do so with care and attention. Wooden boxes, find enough to carry the jewelry of royalty.

Grant me clear sight and steady hands, Lord.

(Letter #2,563)

Unclench my jaw.

Loosen my shoulder.

Relax my belly.

Breathe in, pause, breathe out, pause. Again.

Conflict and tension all around, yet I, your child, breathe easy and free.

Fill me, Lord, an empty body. Animate me that I may overcome self.

Unsuspected resources, deep within, hidden there long ago, a treasure hunt.

Peace.

(Letter #2,562)