Wednesday, February 26, 2020

Frightened at what the day may bring, I view myself impoverished and weak. The truth is that this day dawns like the one before it. I have, here around me, all I need for the march. And yet I fret so.

My doubt is rebellion. Let instead my faith grow. Let me see the safety I already have. Let assurance grow in me.

Let my fear disperse like mist.

Like sunshine, Lord, speak faith over me.

(Letter #1,873)