Dear God, of all the gifts you have bestowed upon me, this one is foremost: this day. You have created this day just for me. You order the happenings, you guide my footfalls and reactions. I imagine I have plans, but in truth all has been designed.
You greet me with love, dear Lord. I am already loved.
Let me run through the halls of this day like a child through a comfortable home, with room after room. Let me greet each moment, each turning, with wonder. You have arranged it.
Dear God, you have held my hand and gently pulled me along your pathways, in small steps, until here I am. The land around me is rich with fruit and teeming with fellow creatures.
Such pity I have for the frightened, worried, resentful one who began this walk with you. That one was as a frightened rabbit, fearful of the smallest movement. That one was riddled with defects, with pride and selfishness and slothfulness, the consequences of which were a great weight. Chaos was nigh.
Lord, as we walk along these byways, I struggle with the same shortcomings, but I feel so strongly your shining love. The worries fade. The sloth abates. Bit by bit, I think more of my fellows.
O! Lord, let me have gratitude for how far this guidance has brought me. Let me share this vision of bounty that you show me. Resting with you, I know all is abundance. My fleeting worries are simply misperceptions.
Sit with me, Lord, and warm me. Let us watch beauty together.
Dear God, let not my mind be cluttered today. My thoughts dart from point to point, from thought to thought, from fear to fear. I cry out for ease, yet it is my own rushing thought that blocks the way to peace.
Lord, drip slow sweet honey over my frantic mind. Still me.
Let the birds visit; I need not run after them.
Dear God, let me find a spot in this land that I can tend to and improve for others.
In this forest with its twisting pathways, let me set myself to care for a forgotten corner. Let me, Lord, make it a welcoming and quiet garden, a protected oasis in a wilderness. Travelers on these paths may come upon my garden; let me give them rest and ease. This is its purpose.
Your sun shines down upon the forest canopy and sprinkles its light over all. Perhaps other visitors will make their own gardens.
Lord, let us, your children, play in the ease of this day.
Dear God, let me better seek to remain an anonymous force. Let me quietly pass on your love, the good news, without fanfare and without grasping.
Let me wander from person to person, murmuring in their ear, telling of all the good things that are already here for the seeing. Let me gently point out the bounty that grows already in the fields and on the vines.
Lord, you guide me to make this the work of my life – let me joyfully turn my hands to this, my labor.
Dear God, I proclaim myself as faithful, as one who seeks your will. But this moment of early devotion dissolves as soon as I rise from my morning seat. I walk through the day on my own march, acting upon my own pursuits.
When, Lord, have I ever denied myself in favor of your will? Or instead do I merely count myself as faithful simply because I make some small effort to have improved intentions?
God, let me labor for you. Let me gladly do what I do not wish to. Let me give you my full measure of effort.
Dear God, you invite me; I need but move my feet your way. Your pathways are broad and easy. Why do I take instead the stony, narrow way? Why do I turn off into brambles and up switchbacks? I soon find myself in thickets with brackish ponds. Perversely, it is only with reluctance that I turn back to rejoin your easy roadway.
Lord. I need but decide to walk with you and you then walk with me in return. If I draw near you reveal yourself. You knock and I need only answer to see you. All this ease, yet I make my own way hard. Save me from my self-made difficulties.
My troubles? I seek them and so they appear. My worries? I invite them as surely as the dawn comes. I awaken and don my own shackles, then when I retire I whimper at my own imprisonment.
This iron around me is gauze.
Lord, let me blink open my eyes and remake this daily decision to follow your easy way. Let me leave these troubles in a heap by the roadside, and walk gently with you in company.
Dear God, let me eagerly run toward the dullest tasks. If I am to be your servant then I must serve. Let me polish the woodwork in your mansions, clean the floors, tidy the rooms, repair the fences.
When the day I face fills with such vexing work, when instead I wish for glory and standing – let me remember the dignity of the servant.
Lord, as you come to me in worldly form, let me approach this day and the people within it as a servant. Your servant.
I serve you.
Dear God, let me seek your guidance. I say I do so, but in truth I more often seek a sense of confirmation. I look for a sign that what I want to do already is correct. That I will get my way.
Lord, take my will. Let me be more honestly open to be moved by you.
Let me be as a small child, guided, willing, and curious. Let me be eager to please you, dear Lord.
Dear God, let me catalog my gratitude. Let your light shine upon my worry and dispel it like the mist it is. Where are the problems I think I have? If I truly look, they cannot be found.
I so easily confuse trouble with worry. If I awaken with anxiety, I think myself troubled, beset by problems. But my worries are over things that may happen in the future. Here and now, no problems touch me. I am alive, and so have all I need.
Thy will be done today, dear Lord.