Dear God, this storehouse of burden and pain has become a perverse treasure. In this hall I catalog wrongs, I polish my woes, I lay up supplies of difficulty. Trial and trouble, I collect it all.
Lord, what a misuse of the time you grant me. I have but this day, and I fill it with such useless pursuits, compounding my natural human frustrations and fears into calamity and crisis.
Let me burn down the storehouse. Let these collected troubles and bitterness turn to ash and blow away. They do not serve me, they do not serve you.
Lord, let me see this day rightly. Let me see my tasks rightly. Let me be useful today – casting aside all these thoughts and worries that stand in the way of this. My worry, my resentment, my wrath make me unuseful. They make me a taker from the world. Dismantle my selfish ways, O Lord, and make me useful.