Dear God, out of infinite mercy, what do you hide from me?

Calamity, that I may not overworry for tomorrow? Success, that I may not puff myself up with hideous pride? Tragedy, that I may enjoy this day without the burden of future sorrow?

You limit me, Lord, to this day, this place. Let the boundaries within which I stroll be their own gift. Nothing here around me is too heavy for me to carry. Yea, let me carry others’ loads, if only for this day.

(Letter 1,534)

Dear God, this day stretches before me, equally long as yesterday’s journey. Why, Lord, am I sometimes weary and other times exhilarated? I have the same portion each day.

Ever before, you have brought me to day’s end and bid me rest. At dawn, my faith is an impostor. I imagine I must carry a burden along this road, and I wonder from whence the strength will come. Were my faith true, I would know with assurance that I will be supplied. No matter the task, I would face it knowing I was its equal.

Yet instead I fret and pray. Is that what you wish for your child, a life begging for scraps of capability?

Let my heart quicken. Let me run along the road, holding nothing back for later. When spent, let me nap like a baby, arise, and run on, laughing.

Sweet Lord, I know you watch me play, bemused while I show off my feats of balance and tiny abilities. Let me live as your child today.

(Letter #1,533)

Dear God, grant me strength to buoy others. Let me not hoard your treasure for myself.

As I give, you bestow upon me. Let me direct this infinite power toward the benefit of others.

Let my small aims wither. Burn away my self-regard. Thy will be done.

(Letter #1,532)

Dear God, I have so long taken step after step as if in the dream, only waking occasionally. I blink and look around. How did I get here? Later, and fresh surroundings, I stop, blink, and ask again: And how did I get here, too?

Looking back each time I see faintly the trail of my footfalls. That must be where I walked, yet I remember not.

Lord, let me be awake for each step today, yea, even the most ordinary doings. You are with me at exalted times, at difficult times – and also at the most tedious times. Let me be awake to your presence persistently, constantly.

(Letter #1,531)

Dear God, streams of cool water flow beside me, available to me in my weariness. So many streams, each itself fed by one smaller, tributary and branch.

Lord, I seek your aid and support – and it comes from so many quarters.

Yet I walk on, blind to the relief available to me if I but look a little more closely. Finally I am spent, and sit. Immobile, I can see the cool water trickling around me.

Open my eyes, dear Lord. I await rescue, but you have already delivered all I need and more.

(Letter #1,530)

Dear God, faced with the most routine of tasks, I become fearful. I feel alone, facing armies who wish me ill.

In truth, it may be I who strike fear in others without knowing it. Let me be a friend to all today.

Bend my words and deeds to your will.

(Letter #1,529)

Dear God, I am like a blade on the whetstone. I am being honed, daily sharper. Each pass reveals a keener edge, by removing what is unnecessary.

For what do you prepare me, dear Lord? Am I to be used in the making of a great feast? The assembly of a sturdy chair? A child’s box?

Thank you, dear God, for the gift of persistence. Ever more sharp, let me become your instrument.

(Letter 1,528)