Dear God, am I to walk today? Run? Rest?
Let me be attentive to your directions today. My own plans and designs, let them give way before you. Make me ready and willing to do your will.
Let me not look back to see if others follow. The beacon shines whether it is seen or not.
Dear God, what are my duties this day? Each march takes me along a similar path. Am I to perform the same tasks each time?
Within each moment, though I may be restricted, you yet provide me infinite choice: I might place my foot there, not here; I might grasp that limb, not this one.
Let me feel the span of the world unfold in the smallest footfall, dear Lord. Let me approach the ordinary unspooling of the day as I might a ceremony. Each small element is a new opportunity to make more perfect the whole.
Let this be my devotion.
Dear God, this small corner in which I sit is swept and tidy. Here in this closet is where I seek you.
Soon enough I must leave to roam the days’s world. You send me walking here, there, carrying burdens and delivering messages. The paths are unruly, winds blow, other voices chatter at me.
Inside me, as I walk, I recall the sweet order of my secret room where I live apart with you. O to return, but alone is no way to live. You have made me to be one among fellows, no hermit.
Sweet Lord, I will be back to you in tranquility soon enough. Now it is time to turn my face to the wind.
Thy will be done today.
Dear God, the glorious dawn comes every day, a routine miracle. Only seldom does its beauty strike me.
What other gifts of joy do you deliver, that I too seldom give thought?
Awaken my attention, Lord, that I may see.
Dear God, walking along these pathways, each fork I encounter looks the same. Every choice stops me in my tracks. What will happen if I go this way? That way? Have I seen this fork before?
I believe my choices to have weight, Lord, but you are the architect. Every road in this labyrinth leads out. It is a garden past time, no prison. The Minotaur I fear at the center is walled in, a myth.
Let me spend less of my life choosing and more time acting upon your guidance. Which way should I walk? Either will have been shown to be your will. So let me walk!
Dear God, small and simple dwellings, one next to the other. As the sun rises, we stir and begin our days. I live by my neighbor yet I imagine my life to be wholly my own. Those I meet along the way: how can I know they do not harbor the same fears and fantasies trickling through their own thoughts? Are we not more alike than different?
And yet I think myself a solitary walker. Along the way I may meet an obstacle. If I wait, more walkers will arrive and we will move it together.
Lord, I called out to you for help and you sent it in the form of my fellows. Let me see you in them. Let them see you in me.
Dear God, this strength that seeps through me, like sap, does it come from you or through my faith in you? If through faith, Lord, how can I deepen my heart? How can my words become more than air? Would you grant me power, Lord, irrespective of my seeking?
This faith I have is even less than the mustard seed. It is the faith of the gardener who plants at spring because doing so last year yielded bounty, of the walker who notes his direction by the sound of running water. Why do I ask, when I know not your nature? You remain a mystery. Yet I have faith, Lord, that you supplied me before and may do so again. Deepen my belief, Lord.
Dear God, out of infinite mercy, what do you hide from me?
Calamity, that I may not overworry for tomorrow? Success, that I may not puff myself up with hideous pride? Tragedy, that I may enjoy this day without the burden of future sorrow?
You limit me, Lord, to this day, this place. Let the boundaries within which I stroll be their own gift. Nothing here around me is too heavy for me to carry. Yea, let me carry others’ loads, if only for this day.
Dear God, this day stretches before me, equally long as yesterday’s journey. Why, Lord, am I sometimes weary and other times exhilarated? I have the same portion each day.
Ever before, you have brought me to day’s end and bid me rest. At dawn, my faith is an impostor. I imagine I must carry a burden along this road, and I wonder from whence the strength will come. Were my faith true, I would know with assurance that I will be supplied. No matter the task, I would face it knowing I was its equal.
Yet instead I fret and pray. Is that what you wish for your child, a life begging for scraps of capability?
Let my heart quicken. Let me run along the road, holding nothing back for later. When spent, let me nap like a baby, arise, and run on, laughing.
Sweet Lord, I know you watch me play, bemused while I show off my feats of balance and tiny abilities. Let me live as your child today.
Dear God, grant me strength to buoy others. Let me not hoard your treasure for myself.
As I give, you bestow upon me. Let me direct this infinite power toward the benefit of others.
Let my small aims wither. Burn away my self-regard. Thy will be done.
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