Monday, January 6, 2020

The dawn comes and yet I try to push it away. I hide behind my closet door, in hopes that the day will not begin.

And what is it I fear? I cannot even name it, this worry. It wraps me in its mist, all the edges soften, my heart pounds.

Lord, let me see more clearly what is outside the door. It is a still day and a shining sun, with a path winding through it. All that is asked is that I start walking.

(Letter #1,822)