Fill my spirit, even as my body is weak.

In pain, of what might I be grateful? In penury, of what give thanks? Place these things in my thoughts.

Aching and spent, let me yet more strongly find reasons to sing praise.

(Letter #1,735)

Challenge comes to me: difficult talks that require diplomacy.

Burdens come to me: heavy loads that require strength.

Distraction comes to me: episodes that call my vanity and pride.

Lord, you grant me wherewithal to meet all this and more. At day’s end I will look back and see all the ways your gifts will have allowed me to match my trials.

Shall I then be sullen? Let me laugh with joyful gratitude at all the ways you buoy me.

(Letter #1,734)

Let my prayers be not catalogs of woe. Let me not complain, embittered and sullen.

Lord! Let my day be one filled with rejoicing and gratitude. I live. I have family. Friends. Opportunities to help are all around me. Above all, I have you.

Let me carry good news today, with cheer.

(Letter #1,733)

I fear equally action and idleness, change and stasis, relationships and isolation. Each and its opposite.

Lord, these events of the world are inconsequential. Let me fix my attention upon you, upon seeking you, upon the working out of your will in this world.

Let me turn my hands to labor. Occupied, let me become too busy for this worry.

(Letter #1,732)

Weary, weak, frightened – come to me and soothe my wounds, the ones that have not yet been made, the ones I fear are on the way.

Shine on me, warm my limbs. You know each weakness and fear, each source of regret and remorse. Under the pressing sunshine, let me discover health.

All these things I cannot do – step in for me, save me, be strong where I am weak.

(Letter #1,731)

Be my friend today.

Greet me, walk beside me, laugh with me. Be not distant.

Let me, in turn, be not distant to others.

(Letter #1,730)

Do I see this world rightly? What illusions do I harbor?

At dawn, I tell myself that you, Lord, support me and give me care. I tell myself of the gift upon gift you have showered upon me, with great expectation of ever more.

These words self-spoken, Lord, are hollow. The proof is in my acting. I rise from my seat and set about making ready to conquer the day. I protect vulnerable areas, I gird myself for battle, I catalog problems to solve.

Where is my faith now? You are a mountain, upon which cities may be built, yet instead I see you as an oak, from which I must dangle.

Lord, let me feel you underfoot. I am supported from below, how possibly could I fall?

(Letter #1,729)

Shatter my self-sufficiency and open my heart to all the ways I need your help.

These easy tasks over which I feel mastery, let them become insoluble.

Let me, in my confusion and terror, discover gratitude and dependence.

(Letter #1,728)

Overcome by self-pity, Grant me acceptance.

Overcome by pride, grant me humility.

Overcome by selfishness, grant me generosity.

Grant me, Lord, improvement. I am bedeviled.

(Letter #1,727)

A desert spreads inside me. Faith slips away, bit by bit replaced by self-reliance. Where once my day was filled with teeming life, I see now wasteland.

Rot at the edges.

Lord, reawaken me. Press my hand into yours, whisper of your presence in my ear. Let me be not alone.

(Letter #1,726)