Dear God, let me react slowly today. I am so often buffeted, flying around like a paper cup on the wind. Let me have gravity and weight. Let my steps shorten, my movements slow. Let me think and speak with care.

Enter my thoughts, Lord, in the space that opens.

(Letter #1390)

Dear God, let me be weak today. Let me be willing to be small, to show vulnerability, to lack stamina and strength. Let me accept and embrace my inadequacy before all I must do.

My weakness is your opportunity, dear Lord. Let me gladly depend upon you wholly, that others may see and do the same.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #1389)

Dear God, facing an array of tasks today, let me have the intention of being a demonstration solely of the power of your love. Let me be evidence today, dear Lord, of how one might seek alignment with your will.

Let me live and act congruent with your will today. Let this way of life be its own statement, sparking curiosity in others, beckoning others to you. Yea, let me be content with the possibility that this might happen. Let me not demand proof of my effect.

(Letter #1388)

Dear God, let me see how my experience can benefit others today.

(Letter #1387)

Dear God, each day is filled with new pastures, if I see it rightly. Even the most routine and typical set of activities can be novel. Lord, let me see the daily miracles you perform.

Even in the same rutted pathways, there is newness. The skies are varied; there falls new rain; there sprouts a fresh flower. I need but see.

Lord, let me see today.

(Letter #1386)

Dear God, how constantly do I rely upon you? In brief moments in the early hours, I seek your guidance and support. I cry out for resources, I feel my dependence – in the unfolding dawn.

I rise and go about the day. These bonds between me and you, this loving dependence of which I am conscious, this clarity of guidance that I feel, these all dissipate. I become increasingly self-sufficient and, hence, increasingly alone.

Lord, I feel your arms enfold me at dawn. Let me feel you equally near me at noon. It is not you who becomes distant through the day’s march but me. Let me cleave to you, again and again.

(Letter #1385)

Dear God, I feel restriction and worry when it comes to what the future holds. Lord, let me look directly at my fear. What if the worst comes to pass? What, then, would be the effect?

Shining such a light clears away the mist. Lord, you support me. Even when fear tells me I have nothing, you provide everything. Let me see through these worried illusions into the truth of things.

Let me feel these crashing waves washing me while I cling to your rock. The water is bracing – let it awaken me.

(Letter #1384)

Dear God, deliver me from idleness, O Lord. It is easy to respond to the problems that arise in the world. Yet when no specific challenges before me, I fall into lassitude and sloth. I wait. I sit.

Lord, let me be willing to act today. Let me do more than simply respond to the world.

Let me craft the moments of the day into an offering for you. Let me see what you would have me do, even when it is not obvious.

(Letter #1383)

Dear God, if I am not useful, then of what value am I? Let me not walk through this day simply taking, taking, but let me be a source of support to others.

What an astounding gift it is to realize that you love me unconditionally. What, then, shall I do with this gift? Let me pass it on, loving others, that they may know themselves to be sufficient.

Let me not be a stagnant pond, with no outlet, but a clear and soothing river, flowing to where I am most needed, cooling parched lands.

(Letter #1382)

Dear God, I look at the world as in a fun house mirror, with small things magnified and large things diminished. My perspective is all off. I see the most trivial things as consequential. The source of my wrong thinking is my love of self. I look out at everything through this distorting lens.

Lord, let me see rightly. Let me see the truth about what is large and what is small.

Grant me willingness to accept what I see when the blinders are removed. Thy will be done.

(Letter #1381)