Monday, April 27, 2020

If I am water, let me be a stream, with a direction, a beginning, an end. Let me be no swamp, nor puddle.

Let me flow to you, Lord, clear and babbling across the stones. The brook laughs as it skips toward the lake. The lake sighs as it feeds a mighty river, marching home to the ocean.

Let me laugh; eventually I am going home.

(Letter #1,934)