When called to act, let me say, “yes.” When called to defer, let me equally obey.

Lord, grant me a discerning ear. What do you call me to do? What do you call me to cease? From what do you call me to refrain?

Let me express your love also through the spaces I do not fill.

Let me listen, Lord.

(Letter #1,917)

What have I to fear, in this secret place? The lions outside my door are phantoms; the hanging that awaits me at sunset is just a tale.

This time apart, in which I prepare, let me see it is no different than the outside world. That outside world, which I fear, let me see it as just an extension of this closet.

There are no lions; there are no gallows. There are only your gifts, dear Lord.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #1,916)

I feel strong.

Let the strength I feel exert itself in service, bending my will to yours.

Let me relinquish all, let me be fully obedient.

(Letter #1,915)

I look out at the field with such fear. An army facing me with spears. Let me approach them as your children, Lord. You love them as you do me.

Sunshine warms the grass. How can I fear your creation so?

I am afraid I will be judged. I am afraid that when called to report, words will escape me. I am afraid that something I have left undone will now be discovered. The worries of self.

Lord, let the sun warm me, let me smile at these enemy forces.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #1,914)

These fears, these termites chewing at the foundations of the world.

Let thanksgiving dispel them. Let gratitude revolutionize my thoughts.

Lord, turn my attention onto those I might help. Let the termites fall still.

(Letter #1,913)

For each moment’s task, let me trust that you have provided me all the strength I will need. Take away my worry about what will happen at noon – for now it is morning and the gentle dawn calls me to work.

Noontide will come and I will again have provision. You have promised this.

The courage you give, in spoonfuls just enough and as needed, let me share with my fellows.

We have just enough.

(Letter #1,912)

I awaken and shuffle from one end of my dwelling to another. I sit on my cushion and await your visit.

Self-satisfied, I reflect on the tidy corners and surfaces of my rooms. Where is the virtue in this placid life?

O my Lord, let me disturb myself. Let me rise and help others to find you.

I have been tested and felt complete deflation in my life. Let others know this message of healing.

(Letter #1,911)

Let me take my place last in line. Let me gladly usher others ahead. Let me build up the frightened and strengthen the weary. Let me enthuse the faithless.

Let me do this from the shadows. Let me gladly shun recognition.

Let me be one who serves, Lord.

(Letter #1,910)

You fashioned me into a better character. I am not who I was.

Today, you will burn away even this self, and create another.

O! This birth is hard, let me take joy in its difficulty.

Tomorrow will not recognize today.

(Letter #1,909)

Still me. Make me simple. Remove from my day all the clutter I have piled in the corners. Burn it all.

Walking through the new growth after a wildfire, I see you, buds unfurling from black branches. But, too, you were the fire.

O Lord, set my feet back on your path.

(Letter #1,908)