I scan the horizon, fear in my throat. What will visit me? How long until it is upon me? Unmoored worry, a cloud drifting through my thoughts.

Yet of what am I afraid? I cannot name my fears. They are spirits, false.

Lord, blow through my inner life a stiff wind. Sweep away these hovering clouds. Let me blink, clear eyed, at the view across the valley. No hosts gather, no calamities lurk. Bright skies.

Whisper to me, Lord, that I may unclench my jaw.

(Letter #1,704)

As I think, so I do. Therefore, let me correct my thought life.

Weed out my wrong motivations and selfish intents. Set my mind aright, dear Lord.

Let my thinking be not unruly.

(Letter #1,703)

Let me live in this world. Let me feel the ground under my feet, the air on my skin, the breath flowing in and out in the back of my throat.

Yet I live in imaginary battlefields and mansions, with unheard voices ringing. My mind lives in tomorrow and yesterday, while this moment lies forgotten.

Let me inhabit this day, Lord.

(Letter #1,702)

O! You are Providence.

You are a font of supply, meeting all my needs and satisfying desires I did not know I had. Wherefore, then, comes this worry?

Providence approaches, from the other side of the mountain, unseen. I need not see it; let me trust in its journey to me.

Let me give better thanks, Lord, that fruits of your love speed their way to me.

(Letter #1,701)

You fashion me, clay on the wheel, into a thing of beauty or an object of use.

Spinning, being molded, under the hands of the Potter, my experience is pressure, tedium, whirling discomfort. And then the fire that sets my strength.

O Lord, grant me acceptance as I am molded.

(Letter #1,700)

Let me bring cheer into every corner of the day, sweet Lord.

Let me reflect your sunshine.

(Letter #1,699)

Of what substance are my troubles and woes? They are light, temporary, imaginary.

Sitting amidst plenty, I worry I will not have enough in the future. Among friends, I worry they may turn on me. With my tasks complete, I worry that the next may be beyond me.

Lord, correct my thinking. These false worries, these are what I call burdens. Let me drop them, and slip off their grip. Open my eyes that I may see: all is well.

(Letter #1,698)

Even this day’s greatest, most looming trouble is trivial.

I worry over so many things that amount to nothing. A planned conversation. A rendezvous. A task. Each takes moments, but from my view in the morning they seem insurmountable.

Lord, clear my sight. The road is flat and wide. Let me start walking with cheer.

(Letter #1,697)

Dawn comes, yet I hide in my dwelling, in its deepest rooms. Let not the day begin, I cry.

Wherefore comes this terror?

The sun continues its inexorable rise and warms the ground. I will eventually walk into the meadow carrying my burdens, no matter these waking thoughts of trouble.

My fate is always the same: awaken, walk your paths, draw nearer to you. Why, then, do I wallow in this fear?

Let me, Lord, set to walking. Shine on me and warm my limbs.

(Letter #1,696)

Let me be your beloved.

Your strong arms and sturdy back, they protect me as the wind whips. No need to fear, you whisper, as you might to a child.

My eyes are wide and my heart beats, and all the while you prepare for me tea and soft cushions.

You know that after the wind, the sun will shine and life will be one of ease. Your cooing soothes me; let me listen for it.

(Letter #1,695)