Dear God, my day, even when alone, is filled with speech. Words flow through my thoughts as I consider what I may say or did say or should say or must not say. These are clouds that spread, dim, obscure.
O Lord, let my hands grasp and pull, let my feet step along my march. Let me not hide my works behind chatter. Let me not drown out your quiet whispers of guidance and leave myself rudderless.
At day’s end, will your will for me have been to talk, or will it have been to act in love? Let me, then, not rob the time I have for deeds.
Dear God, you cultivate me. My roots grasp the soil you have prepared. My view is the one where you planted me. My weak limbs unfurl and sun warms my fresh skin — I am more greatly rooted, I grow stronger. I bear fruit that others pick as they wander by on unknowable errands.
O, Lord, for what did you plant me? I am one in a vast orchard, producing sweet fruit yet simply ordinary. The shade I provide is for a moment and depends wholly on your sunshine to exist.
When dead, let my burning body warm the hearth of a peaceful home.
All this life, dear Lord, from a small stalk shooting from a simple spot. Let these infinite stories of faithful help, hidden in my roots, flourish under the warm rains.
Dear God, let me breathe in this air with which you surround me. The ground beneath my feet supports me; let me stand firm upon it. It rains; let me throw my head back and drink.
Dear God, walking a misty pathway, ones and twos encounter a fallen limb. Together we can remove it, a knot of unison.
Let me, Lord, add my hands to the collective effort today. Let me be one among many, neither leader nor follower — but a fellow.
Thy will be done.
Dear God, what I feared I now welcome. What bored me now fascinates. Where I sought acclaim I now promote others.
How, Lord, did such a revolution occur? Drip by drip, the rot has been washed away and my foundations upended.
My wounds are covered in new, pink skin and the sun warms me.
I never can become worthy through action, Lord. These changes are solely from your love and grace. Yet let me try to merit them. Let me accept your love and pass it on.
Dear God, am I stretching out under warm sunshine, or cowering under harsh glare? It is all the same sun and you leave the choice to me. What freedom!
If you are love, dear Lord, then love also is you. As I spread love, according to your will, I also spread your dominion.
The sun shines regardless. Let me share with others how warming the light can be.
Dear God, behind today’s fear lies a greater fear, and behind that yet another.
I fear others – behind that, I fear that I will be judged poorly – and behind that still, I fear having my true nature exposed to myself. I am afraid that my self-image will shatter.
At core, then, my fear really is rooted in self. It is based in doubt that you, sweet Lord, love and support me. I pridefully think myself alone. Acceptance, under such a lash of selfish fear, is glum, reluctant.
Build my faith and let it be true. Let me accept this world and its movements eagerly, enthusiastically.
O! I make my own inner life misery by denying your love at its deepest core. Crack me open, Lord, and expose my raw skin to warm sunshine.