Dear God, am I grateful enough? I so often seek aid, support, and a feeling of safety and comfort. These things come to me without fail, and my faith has grown by this experience. I know you provide what is needed. This knowledge brings me peace.

At day’s end, how do I express gratitude? Indeed, how do I do so throughout the day, in the midst of your many instances of rescue and support?

The answers to these questions are a bitter pill. I intend gratitude, I mouth the words, but too often it is an ill-fitting cloak I am wearing. I so readily receive. I even give easily to others. But the fundamental feeling of grateful custodianship eludes me so frequently.

What I pass on was never mine. I merely transfer your love to others. I worry the supply is limited, that I will tire, that I will run out. I act as if I generate what I distribute.

Lord! You are a vast lake without bottom. How dare I congratulate myself for these cups of water I hand out? My little dippers are already all around, anyone could have them. How dare I complain of fatigue? So many thirst more than me, and indeed if necessary I myself can drink of this water.

Lord, make me into a being of gratitude. Make me willing to give it all away, everything, unto the bone. Let this be my way of giving thanks.

Thank you.

(Letter #1294)

Dear God, facing challenges, I look to the future and wish for a positive outcome. On the other side of hardship, after you have rescued me, all will be well. But why, Lord, do I insist on imagining you will only save me later? You are here with me now – if this is so, then all must already be well. Rescue is here, and always was.

Lord, let my thinking become straight. Let me see clearly your hands of support, already underneath me.

I fear. But of what consequence is that?

I seek to spread ease in the world, to awaken the realization that we are already well. Let me, Lord, heed my own message – your message, echoing back to me.

All is well, here already.

(Letter #1293)

Dear God, I ask for willingness to do your bidding, to pursue your will. Yet in truth, your dictates will come into being whether I am willing or not. Your plan will unfold without my intervention.

Why, then, do I seek willingness? It is the softer way. Accepting your will eases my path. Where I once saw chores and battles, now I might see opportunity and joy.

To be willing will make me a joyful instrument. It is not for you, Lord, that I become willing, but for myself. I seek willingness as a gift from you, an example of grace.

Lord, grant me this gift: to become willing.

(Letter #1292)

Dear God, sit next to me. Take the seat to my left. Hold my hand, reassure me, nudging me to say and do your will. Squeeze my leg when I am assailed, reminding me that you are here for me. Point out my next step when I lose the way.

In my fear, I forget that you are always with me, already lifting me up before I ask. Let me see this. Let me recognize all the ways you supply me.

Why am I so blind? Awaken me, Lord.

Let me awaken my fellows. We have no need to fear.

(Letter #1291)