Dear God, I go searching, inward and outward, for the labors you would have me do. How best may I toil for you? Only with difficulty do I realize that the greatest effort you ask of me is to slow my frantic pace of devotion.
I seek to grandly demonstrate my faith; you instead call me to meekly receive your love and slow droplets. Bit by bit, your gifts become noticeable, the change in me becomes apparent.
I am beginning to see the mountain lake you have set me by, the warm beauty all around. It snuck up upon me while I was distracted, searching for labors to perform.
You are the Lord of slow, healing streams. If I sit here, with you, in this Alpine mansion, I will arise with a fresh heart.
Lord! Let me be willing to tarry with you. Let me set aside my furtive industry and instead slowly, meticulously worship these meadows.