Dear God, I meet you in these early hours, daily for years. Pace by pace, morning by morning, I dwell with you. The one who came to you in pain, crying out to find you, so long ago — he was me and now is not me.
I was alone in a pit. You crept in upon me, raised me day by day, and now I sit in a meadow beside a cool stream. Yet I had to call to you for you to come.
How could I have known that your gift to me was despair? And that it would flower so long hence? Ground down, I became willing to consistently seek you — and you reward me today with presence.
Lord, you have regenerated this broken spirit. I am new, and was made so through steady, slow trial.
Today, dear God, let me see present trials as equally a gift. When under pressure, I am moved to seek you yet more urgently. One more gift-day.
In my meadow, Lord, I am glad for the wildflowers, the green valley walls, the stream. Glad, too, am I for the thieving fox who visited overnight.
From a lonely pit, you have moved me to this place, living now among other creatures.
Fellows come to visit. How ever shall I tell them of the days upon days that brought me here? The gift is not this meadow, it was in the days before.