Do I alone carry this weight? Will you send fellows to help? Will you intercede? How sturdy is my back?

O Lord, in the dark morning, frightful thoughts course through me. Soon enough my heart will quicken and I will walk. Let me see past these moments of fear, into the bright sunlit activity that awaits.

Indeed, it is the action itself I fear. From my cushion, I wish for idle times. Thereby would I wallow in self-pity.

Arise! Let me walk to meet you.

(Letter #1,866)

I need not beg for your aid. I am rescued over and over in so many ways.

The parent places food on the table each evening without first needing to hear cries of hunger; the worker need not implore the owner for their wages.

Let me, Lord, expect what you promise: that we, your children, will find peace in you.

I fear the day and search for deliverance. Grant me confidence in your love for me.

(Letter #1,865)

What do you ask of me today? Am I ready?

Lord, grant me equanimity in the face of your call. Grant me single-mindedness while these winds blow.

Deep in my heart, orders come. Let me not turn away from what I hear.

(Letter #1,864)

The wind blows over my shelter; chaos spreads among the folk.

Before I can cry out, you show me the direction to walk. How to repair the damage. I know my duties before I ask.

Lord, thank you for what you tell me. Let me listen.

(Letter #1,863)

Surely these things that trouble me are gifts.

This rain, that washes me clean. This wind, that will blow me to shore. This hunger, that will keep me alert.

Need I know what lies on the next chart? There is plenty to occupy me now. Let me therfore heave to.

Lord, I am your obedient servant. Let me also become your grateful one.

(Letter #1,862)

My heart is a small garden. It provides nourishment if I tend it. Each day, the tasks are the same, yet the results change. Some days there are new weeds. Others, a great harvest for my meal.

I will kneel, and set about removing weeds. Thank you, Lord, for the simplicity of this task.

My heart, a small garden.

(Letter #1,861)

Do I run a race? Is the finish near, if only I persist?

Am I to spread good news? Will others here, if only I will speak?

Am I to be a steward of your creation? Do I quietly polish the floors, equally all days?

Do I live and play as your child? Will your loving hand save me from calamity?

Let me discern who I am to be today, and act as you would have me.

Guide me in my ignorance, O Lord. So many paths appear before me.

(Letter #1,860)

I wandered from you, fearful of shadows. Now I have returned, Lord, even though my cupboard shelves are empty. You send me out into the world nonetheless, and bid me trust that I will meet with supply as it is needed.

Let me cross the threshold of this day with praise in my heart. You will carry me, and tomorrow will take care of itself.

You are a small fire in my heart, Lord. Let me tend to you today.

(Letter #1,859)

My wells are dry; will you bring rain today? I hunger; will you send bread?

O Lord, I wait. This be your will.

Let me give thanks for this space between.

(Letter #1,858)

The door flies open and there I stand at the threshold. Wind across the plain. Crisp air.

Stiffen my spine, dear Lord, and let my feet have courage to start walking.

Let not this wind trouble me. There is still solid ground on which to run.

(Letter #1,857)