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)