Saturday, February 1, 2020

My feet walk, unfelt. My hands grasp, unnoticed. My attention is on the horizon and the storms gathering over the hills. What am I to encounter?

The weather is set to turn harsh.

Yet here, the pathway turns upon itself and I walk through patches where it is uneven. I must watch my feet if I am not to trip. I must grasp handholds.

Soon enough, the way leads to another dwelling where my help is needed. While I am in aid, the storm comes and goes.

Walking later, this time toward home, I note that I never approached those mountains.

Lord, let me pay mind to my feet and hands, here and now.

(Letter #1,848)