I awaken and shuffle through my dwelling, preoccupied with thoughts of woe. Self-pity, an anchor I drag through the rooms.

I feel assailed by my troubles. Am I?

Lord, you are the rescuer, the shepherd, the teacher, the friend. O how I need all of you on this gray morning.

(Letter #1,847)

My thoughts are deeds.

I stray. This worry and self-absorption cut me away from you. My fear is rebellion and begets indolence.

Let this self-pity pass away from me, Lord.

(Letter #1,846)

I see this pathway only until the first turning, then it disappears into dark mist. How shall I prepare myself, Lord, for what I may find? Ought I carry more provisions? Shed extra weight? Dress for cold?

I delay my steps, yet the turning is always ahead. When I meet it, finally, there appears another, equally dark.

Let me become grateful, Lord, for the worries these upcoming encounters place in me today. They sharpen my mind, add care to my steps, increase my reliance on you. They turn my thoughts away from vanity and direct me toward greater faith and humility.

Let me give thanks for my fear of what has not yet come to pass.

(Letter #1,845)

Have I seen others’ ambitions result in joy? Why, then, do I run after these banners?

Turn my head away from accomplishment, Lord, and let me renew my simple labors. Let me brush the debris from others’ pathways, that they may walk toward you more easily.

Let me be a custodian.

(Letter #1,844)