Drip by drip, you have worn away the edges of my fears. My worries are like smooth river rocks, tumbled in a heap at the end of a rapids.

Beyond, the water is deep and calm. On the river’s edge I skip stones. They hop, hop, sink. Oblong, smooth fears hidden in mud under calm water, dispatched in joyful play.

Lord, let these nagging morning worries be playthings, let me laugh as they skip and sink.

(Letter #2,472)

Even as I cry woe, let the relief I seek flow away from me to others. You soothe me, let me soothe them.

How could I keep you to myself, Lord? You are the sun and shine upon all the village.

There is one, forlorn, who has no shelter but the hillside. As I pass them my blanket, let me also share some of the warmth that has quickened my limbs.

(Letter #2,471)

I expected to be scorned, and yet was cheered.

I expected penury, and yet was showered with wealth.

I expected sorrow, yet met joy.

How, then, could I trust what I see before me? It has ever been better than I could have hoped.

O Lord, your providence overwhelms.

(Letter #2,470)

Sitting frozen in my room, I dare not even rise. If the day begins, so, I fear, will suffering.

Whence these fears? On its worst day, how deep ever was my woe? Have you ever truly abandoned me?

Let me begin to walk, Lord.

(Letter #2,469)

From the blue, came the rains. They flooded the lands, and we perceived calamity. Yet our village was refashioned stronger and upon higher ground when the skies cleared.

The story of your love for me is relentless, yet I see only episodes.

Let me see the hidden gifts of this day, Lord.

(Letter #2,468)

When I catalog all the acts of the day, I will find that almost all are speech. Few of my doings are wrought by hand, or back. When I retire at night, I will reflect on all that I said through the day.

Did I speak kindly? Did I cause harm through my words? How did I spread Love, what did I say, what should I have said?

Guide me in my discourse, Lord. Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,467)

I have a store of supplies for the way. I have collected them meticulously. This morning begins a new journey, and I select with care what to bring.

Lord, I will walk under nourishing rains and through teeming meadows. Do I need even this sack? What if it were lost, would you deliver Providence to me, the hungry one? Need I even ask?

The sparrows seek food afresh each morning. Open my eyes, Lord, to how little I need carry.

(Letter #2,466)

To stand and walk is a miracle. To balance, fall forward, catch myself over and over. To look at me at rest, one would think I could never move.

And yet I walk for miles without thought, appreciating the views.

Lord, make me mindful of my dependence on you even in the simplest things.

(Letter #2,465)

Let me persist, even through distraction.

Let gladness descend upon me, even in my idle hours.

Do I honestly seek you? Let me try, even through the rains.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,464)

The earth, it presses down upon me.

My shoots climb up through open spaces.

From this dark worry will come my meeting with sunlight.

Grant me equanimity, even here underground.

Lord, you give me heavy ground and bright sky both.

(Letter #2,463)