Dear God, this world is no blank page, asking me to write it. You have already filled the world to overflowing. The forest contains pathways that lead to meadows, streams, brambles. Some roads ascend mountains. Others lead to mire.
These forks where I choose, I imagine myself with such creative power. My choices, while consequential, are smaller than I think.
This path, that path: Lord, they are all your walkways.
My freedom rests in the manner in which I walk. Do I wear a smile? Do I cheer others? Do I share burdens, sing?
Let me show others my face as I walk, Lord.