I look at this day ahead, and wonder what it may bring me. Will I attain what I seek? Will calamity the fall me? All these thoughts of self wind me into a knot.

Let me look for ways to help my fellows today. Unravel this string inside me, Lord.

(Letter #1,796)

I wait before you, silent. What will you tell me? Will I be still enough to hear?

Lord, let me live an economy of movement today. Let me not embellish my actions nor words. Let me speak and act simply.

Let me, Lord, do exactly what is asked of me.

(Letter #1,795)

Thumping heart. Howling wind. How can I hear you over all this?

How, then, can others hear me tell stories of my own rescue? Maybe they will hear my voice in the wind, as I heard another’s.

Let me not shout but whisper. Those who have ears to hear will do so.

(Letter #1,794)

A messenger comes. The news: I am loved.

Let me become worthy of such a thing. Let me pass this message along to another.

(Letter #1,793)

There is a spring inside my chest, turned upon itself like an overwound watch. My belly and ribs held close in, my tongue pressed against the roof of my mouth. My teeth grind.

O! Relax my body, each part by each part. My tongue. My belly. My gaze.

Wound like a cord, day after day, I weep today at the uselessness of my tight grip.

Pry open my hands, dear Lord.

(Letter #1,792)

I have come to feel you are a friend, bit by bit through daily prayer. Now these times apart with you are routine. Have I lost you? The thrill of recognizing your presence has been covered over in rote habit.

This daily practice, let it become new. Let me become new.

Miracles unfold around me. What matter if they did so yesterday and will tomorrow? Snap me out of this trance, let me feel the tingling air on my skin.

(Letter #1,791)

Surely you abide with me here. Even this small room, in this corner. I dwell with you.

Must I ask you to come with me away from here? You are already wherever I go, awaiting me.

Open my eyes, dear Lord.

(Letter #1,790)

I look for you under every rock and in every corner. I set out on long and rambling tracks to find you.

You are already everywhere I look, dear Lord. But yet I look past you.

I have here with me, and in me, all I have been seeking. What am I to do with this power?

Here where I sit, let me grow roots and invite others to hold fast. Let them see you in me.

(Letter #1,789)

This morning pathway I walk, it is at times broad, and at others twisted, overgrown. My path to you is choked with weeds and littered with windblown sticks.

How shall I draw near you, Lord? Shall I walk on through bramble? Shall I stop to remove the debris? In either case, my effort is required. I grip this hoe so tightly. I stamp my feet as I walk.

The weeds have grown out of my own self-obsession. Let my thoughts fix on others, Lord. Let me clear this path for those who come after.

(Letter #1,788)

Let me draw near to you.

Be there for me, Lord. Let me be not alone.

(Letter #1,787)