Dear God, I seek your solace and warmth, yet I myself bar the door when you knock. I profess that I have willingness – but I am not obedient when your instructions are not to my liking.

You test me, Lord. Let me be obedient.

(Letter #1,551)

Dear God, I arise depleted and weary at the thought of my duties. How will I meet the tasks I have been set?

I mouth the words that seek strength, yet in my heart I pray for escape. Change my thinking, Lord. Let me live acceptance.

(Letter #1,550)

Dear God, let me work with a glad heart today. Let every effort be a prayer.

(Letter #1,549)

Dear God, buried in my heart, there you are. My treasure, my secret. The raw wind blows, yet my chest is warm, glowing.

Glowing souls, some of us come together and share the warmth. What cheer! Others walk, lonely, their solitary heat fading.

I give up nothing to join my sisters and brothers, yet still I walk single, creating the conditions of my own trial and woe. I shiver, but need not.

Cold, I wrap my arms tightly around my chest. But look at all these friends nearby! I mulishly ignore their glowing warmth, tending to my own tiny flame with misplaced pride.

Let me, Lord, enter others’ circles. This warmth improves the land as we share it.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #1,548)

Dear God, what shall I sacrifice today? What of value would you have me relinquish?

I may easily abandon rusting piles of treasure, and easy words of kindness may flow like water from my mouth — all without cost. How, Lord, shall I dig deeper? What shall I give up to you, to others, to all?

Shall I sacrifice a posture of gratitude to you? This might mean giving thanks for every experience, even those that diminish and vex me. This might mean, above all, depleting my own precious hoard of time.

Let me give of my today, dear Lord. Let me give the things whose loss I will truly feel. Let me give thanks for the loss and pain — for it may make me more compassionate towards my fellows and hence more fit to be your instrument.

O! Make me ready to shun comfort on today’s march. I can carry more; let me pick up these burdens.

(Letter #1,547)

Dear God, each of my weaknesses is an opportunity to become supported by you. When my strength gives way, you lift the burden. When I am resentful, you show me another whose conditions are worse. When frightened, you make me too busy to dwell upon it.

I thought I needed strength, yet you delivered relief. I thought I needed tolerance, yet you delivered to me compassion. I thought I needed courage, yet you delivered to me diligence.

In pain and turmoil, how will you rescue me? Let me have quiet confidence that I, your child, will be saved today – even as the form may surprise.

(Letter #1,546)

Dear God, find me, crouched behind a bush in this wide landscape. I hide from imaginary forces. I see myself preparing for battle, frightened in the face of conflicts to come.

Steal in upon me while I prepare myself, slip into my heart, open my eyes. What battle? What enemies? What trials? There only ever was me, a child imagining monsters in shadows.

I can stand, walk the lands. My hiding place was only waist high. I see others huddled behind small bushes. We all hide from one another as if we were armies, and not the gentle creatures we are.

Let me gaze fondly on all these cowering friends. I was trembling, alone. You found me, and I learned you were always here. We have no need to crouch; we can stand and look with love to each others’ eyes.

Look! A bench on which to sit. Let some friends visit with me while I rest.

(Letter #1,545)

Dear God, as you grind away my imperfections, I feel the loss of removal, weary from the work and depleted.

Yet now is when you most love me – when I am vulnerable, weakened, needy. Now is when you shower me with the most consequential gifts: of aid in my desperation.

My strength is false, for it has limitations. Let me accept the power you offer. Let me willingly shed my selfish aims and make the doing of your will my central concern.

(Letter #1,544)

Dear God, polish me. Smooth all the edges, trial after trial.

Let me, today, be a finer instrument than yesterday.

(Letter #1,543)

Dear God, even under duress and pain, let me do your will. Even when elated, let me do your will.

Let me seek you, Lord, even from this lonely seat.

(Letter #1,542)