Dear God, on quiet days I fear dissolution and dissipation. I fear I will waste the day, with nothing to show.

Lord, grant me a right attitude toward industry. Let me not idolize labor, but instead use it as devotion to you. Let me seek your will for me and act when you call me. If I am a tool of your will, let me be content to remain unused. At such times let me sharpen my edges and prepare.

Thy will be done today. Make me willing, O Lord.

(Letter #1321)

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.

(Letter #1320)

Dear God, let me sit here, amidst lack and unfulfillment. Let me not strive, grasp, nor struggle. Let me not chase after banners nor satisfaction. Let this be my lesson for today.

Let me turn my hands to what is before me, simply and quietly. The wolves at the door are outside the home. The pantry may go bare, but not today. Today, there is enough and I have work to do. What I perceive as lack is, instead, distraction.

Lord, let me be intent, here, now. Let my quiet work beckon others to be still and turn, too, to their own chores.

Let us be a quiet and joyful fellowship in labor.

(Letter #1319)

Dear God, let me shed all weight, dropping my burdens. I drag so much with me – regret and worry, fear and envy. Remorse over the past and terror for the future press me down and keep me from doing your will. They paralyze me, they increase my self-regard, they shut me away from your sunlight.

Lord! Let me throw off this heavy cloak. Let me walk on encumbered. Let me drop all I carry. Keep my hands empty and free.

(Letter #1318)