Dear God, I hurl myself at the day, hoping that momentum and energy will overcome these perceived problems. Such a childish approach. And indeed what I imagined to be a day filled with problems is not that. In all the challenges that come my way in the course of the day, the problems are few. Maybe they do not even exist.

Lord, let me have precision. Let me not seek to overpower the day, but approach it with care. The right step well-placed, the right word spoken quietly, the right action well-timed.

Let me be meticulous, my expression of gratitude for your immeasurable gifts.

(Letter #1145)

Dear God, I sit in this small room tucked away from the coming day. I hear the whisper of the fan, I feel my back rest against the wall, I feel my seat press upwards into my flesh. Here I am. Here you are, too.

Yet already I set my thoughts to hours and even days later. This same body will be there when tomorrow arrives and becomes today. This same self. Why do I behave, then, as if you will not be with me? You are here now, in this room.

Thoughts of tomorrow, of later, take me away from this room and my presence before you. The only place I am truly a part from you is in my imaginings. Why do I pursue them so? My planning and worry poison my soul.

Lord, let me dwell with you. Let me be here with you, in mind equally as in body.

(Letter #1144)

Dear God, take me. Lead me by the nose through the day. I am an obstinate mule. I need reminding, and a firm hand.

Take me to the field where my labor lies. Set me to my task. My work will bear fruit, and I may never see nor notice, too busy digging up each furrow. I am too simple to see the bounty you are producing with my labor.

Bring me home at day’s end. I know you will care for me as one of your own. But, stubborn and willful, I escape and wander if any opportunity presents itself.

Lord, be firm with me today. Leave no room for doubt. Order my life.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #1143)

Dear God, you reveal and reveal. I toil and plod, eyes downcast and fixed on my task. A shift in the light causes me to look up and I see. I see. Lord, you give me sight and what I see is of infinite interest, landscapes scratching to the horizon. I see how you, your love, rest underneath it all. It glows.

I distract myself with my rote task, and the view just as quickly vanishes. All I see is what is before me.

Lord, surprise me with revelation. Let me see beyond my laboring hands and trudging feet. Let me share the view with my fellows.

(Letter #1142)