Dear God, I fear and worry over what is to pass some days in the future. Tomorrow’s tomorrow creeps into this day and kicks over the chairs, chews at the foundations of my home, pours ground glass into my meal.

I ruin myself: today holds calm, yet I dwell upon potential storms.

Lord, turn my attention to your work. Grant me no idle time. Fill me, fill me with industry.

Set to use, I become the cheerful worker. I sing all the while under my load. Tomorrow is forgotten. I have purpose for this day.

(Letter #1490)

Dear God, let me abandon this grasping. Always, there is something that I pursue. My constant companion is worry over whether I will attain the security or status I seek.

Lord, have you long since already answered my cries? Let me see how, around me, all I ask has already come about. Your gentle hand, dear God, let it reach within me and rip out my grasping heart. Let the scales fall from my eyes that I may see the world brightly.

I, your child, am safe. I, your servant, an loved.

You have fashioned me from clay to perform your will. I was made for this time, these circumstances. Let me, your tool, be used.

And yet I crumple myself in woe and glance away and distraction. I make myself useless, a rusted saw.

Let me polish my work surfaces, Lord, and set myself to use. Let not the saw wish it were a fine garment.

(Letter #1489)

Dear God, like a loyal dog, I seek only to be near you.

I do not understand your ways, nor most of your words. You must speak to me simply, show me your will plainly. My abilities are limited. I serve you most by seeking you; in your presence I am safe, whole, and useful.

Lord! I wish simply to be your companion. On which path shall we walk today?

(Letter #1488)

Dear God, my thoughts roam so far. I seek distractions. Like an aimless bird, my attention hops branch to branch. This world I inhabit falls away and my consciousness is far from the present.

Lord, let me become willing to allow this furtive mind to be bridled. Tether me to this moment, it is all I have.

My attention darts to imaginary treasures and dreamy worries. But yank me back here and now. Let my eyes see what is before me. Let my ears hear.

You bless me, Lord, with the capacity to think, and I misuse it, escaping into fantasy. Drive a stake into the ground, tie me up, lest I stray and lose myself.

(Letter #1487)

Dear God, let me be a friend today. Others may come to me lacking hope, or faith, or courage, or some other resource. Let me fill them with what you have given me, generously and without hesitation.

Let me not fear becoming empty. You have filled me and will again.

Love withers if I do not express it. Let me be a cool spring.

Let me be generous.

(Letter #1486)

Dear God, you see me. You see into me. I stand exposed in the noon sun, without secret and without cover. The tissue of illusion in which I clothe myself, and which I drape over the world around me, burns away.

What is left, Lord, is what is true. Bedrock. I stand upon it.

As I move out from here, as I act in the world, let me speak only truth. Let me see only what is real. Let me do only what you call.

Lord! You see through me. Let me, as your child, see through the paper wrappings of circumstance, and into its foundations.

(Letter #1485)

Dear God, if this day is a gift, let me not squander it. You awaken me with a full heart, with a song on my lips, with bright, shining eyes.

Toward what shall I turn these capacities? Shall I seek to advance my own position, to find comfort and ease — or shall I turn out from my lodging to greet my fellows? Shall I, Lord, live and spread love to all, yea, even those who vex and oppose me?

Let me sing sweetly to my fellows, a sparrow in the dawn gloom. Let me turn over my treasure to the thief, heap praise on the treacherous.

My duty is love. Let me tear into my work with head thrown back, laughing.

(Letter #1484)

Dear God, each day you renew the sunshine pouring down upon me. The mercy, the joy, the love. Abundant each day, and I need but see it.

Yet I twist myself into knots of worry, self-pity, resentment. Wrapped and closed so tightly, how can I receive what you offer? I am like a twisted rag.

Lord, loosen my grip. Relax my tensing muscles. Coax open my eyes and let me see that night has passed. Dawn is peeking in with all your promise.

My home is at the edge of a forest full of ghosts. They dissolve as the sun rises. Grant me eyes to see this meadow. Grant me eyes to see your love.

(Letter #1483)