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.

(Letter #1,563)

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.

(Letter #1,562)

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.

(Letter #1,561)

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.

(Letter #1560)