Failure will come; it comes already. You love me none the less.
Shortcomings drive my actions and thoughts; and yet you love me as a favored son.
Dark and selfish thoughts course through me; how am I then worthy even of your notice?
As I roam these fields, walk these cobbles, let me encounter my fellows with some small part of your love. It is pure grace, given me as an undeserved and even unlooked-for gift.
I am a steward of your love — let me onpass it.
Thank you, Lord, for the answers that will come.
You will provide the will, the words, the resources. You will turn away the spear points aimed at my soft parts, you will prepare a resting place for my revival. You will shower me with gifts.
Thank you for all that is to come.
A candle gladly lights another without worry that it will lose its own brightness. The unlit wick needs only to touch the lit.
Lord, you have set a candle glowing in my heart. It is bright enough to read by, but such a limited use would be a shame.
Let me light others’ wicks.
The wind is gusting and I am a paper cup, discarded and spinning on the pavement. My thoughts jump from tomorrow to yesterday and into ever deeper wells of imagination.
Does the world intrude, or do I pursue it? You must look on my agitation with sorrow.
Lord, let my feet root. Let my thoughts rest here.
It is a familiar path: there is a thing that must be done. I awaken with fear that I will be inadequate to the task and be judged therefore. I pray for guidance and strength. The time to act arrives. The words come, the deeds unfold. I later marvel and give thanks.
Lord, grant me this posture of gratitude at the outset. Let me give thanks at dawn, secure already that you will have carried me through this fearful day.
Am I enough? Let me be enough.
All my fellows worry the same. Lord, let me bring ease to all, for we all are beset with fear.
Make of me a spring of healing water.
You made me for this day, and this day for me. You trained and shaped me. You arranged the winds to howl, that I might have some challenge to meet.
Lord, let me be equal to this day: I fear it.