My worries and woes are minor, my troubles but light and temporary. I am desperate to see the future, yet you hide it from me.

Lord, let me see this blindness as the gift it is. Tether me to the present, that I may see how rich it is, and how inconsequential my difficulties.

Let me move through this day as a river, flowing over these stones and pebbles, wearing them smooth, enjoying even the cascades when they meet me. What is around the bend, cataract or pool? I will flow equally through each.

(Letter #1,714)

Here in the morning quiet, I am safe. Yet I look into the day and I am a frightened child. What do I fear? The judgment of others.

Lord, cure me of this defective thinking. Let me improve my ability to rely upon you. Let me expand the scope of this reliance.

If my fellows judge me wanting, expel me, set me into the wilderness – then let me laugh with joy that this is your will for me.

Knowing that you will supply all, worry, is my own choice. Let me choose better.

(Letter #1,713)

Eager and grasping for safety, I shut myself away with you. I anticipate this time apart. But is this a true home?

The safety I feel here dissipates the moment I rise and greet the day. Fear sets in, my quiet closet forgotten.

Lord, let me dwell with you, not simply visit. My time with you is no retreat and it is available to me at all times, in all places.

Let me bring you with me into all my activities and interactions today, dear Lord.

(Letter #1,712)

Thank you, Lord, for all you will do for me today. Thank you for the problems you will solve and the knots you will unravel. Thank you for the rescue you will provide.

All my strength is weakness.

Let me learn more how to be dependent upon you.

(Letter #1,711)

Let me be a pool of clear water today. Let them come from miles around to drink. Let me be constantly renewing. Let me flow freely for all.

The sun beats on this parched land. Let me ease those who thirst. There is more than enough.

(Letter #1,710)

My thoughts are full of motion and energy, bees buzzing from spot to spot, resisting order and calm.

Lord, slow these movements, quiet me. This morning devotion is not a time for effort.

Make me willing to rest and hear your will.

(Letter #1,709)

You have granted me ability to return to ease after disturbance. After calamity comes gratitude for repair and safe harbor.

I am thankful for having been saved, for improvement in my temporal experience. Yet greater is my appreciation for the repair of my thoughts and attitudes.

O! Lord, let my doubts and self-seeking wither.

(Letter #1,708)

How willing am I, really, to do your will?

I hold back, lest I become depleted. I fear discomfort and so turn away from the hard path. I think of my own aims before others’.

Lord, reverse me. Let me spend my energies, take the hard road, place myself last.

Surely your will for me is to be no miser. Let me give away my treasure.

(Letter #1,707)

I am so grudging in my outlook. I align my will with yours, dear Lord, but it is only with reluctance.

I pretend altruism, fellow feeling, faith. Deep within, I value most my own advancement.

Reverse and upend these attitudes. Let me willingly place myself at the margins of the world.

(Letter #1,706)

I grasp for distraction after distraction. I begin and begin, abandoning each effort for the new.

I am a bird, hopping from branch to branch.

Grant me steadfastness, Lord. Let me bring care and attention to my actions, devotion to my footsteps.

Let me be purposeful today.

(Letter #1,705)