Let me speak today of my faith in you. At times I feel apart; to speak of faith brings me near you. It was I who was distant.

Let me work anonymously and without notice, a trusting servant. Let me sweep the path before others who walk, unmindful that anyone cleared it. Let me repair the fences that none see.

Lord, let me know and do your will for me.

(Letter #2,009)

Faced with so many possible tasks, let me choose the simple and needful. Let me not make the moments too complicated.

Lord, let me discern and do the one thing.

Let my actions today ring, a clear bell.

(Letter #2,008)

Remove what blocks me from usefulness to you. My shortcomings, my doubt, my weakness.

You call me to act, yet I cower in fear as if the chores themselves are an army.

Let me do your will today, Lord.

(Letter #2,007)

Let my boat be steered into the middle of the river; let your flow carry me.

Let me not hug the sides and founder, neither let me fear the rapids. I will meet the sea, Lord, and you will take me there.

Let me not struggle against the current.

(Letter #2,006)

There was a great battle last night; a storm raged. Yet this morning, the sun rose over the plain.

An earthquake swallowed a village, yet again in the morning: the sun.

Winds whip, and smashed trees, yet the hills remain.

Lord, you are steadfast, a rock underneath the world, the sun that rises each day without fail.

Let me look past the events of the hour and feel you underfoot, feel you shining upon me.

(Letter #2,005)

Above all, I fear the judgment of others – beyond lack, trial, deprivation. I twist into knots avoiding the criticism of neighbors and strangers alike.

Lord, the supply I need is no pile of treasure, nor even raw material to fashion, but inner guidance and strength. Grant me the willingness to follow your path, even through brambles, even when it veers away from the main road.

If I am to do right, let me fear no judgment.

(Letter #2,004)

You ask nothing of me, you beat back the storms, you comfort me when I am weak. Protector, parent, friend. You sit beside me on the morning after calamity.

O Lord, I remember you always too late. Let me feel you within me today, now. You were here even before I awakened.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,003)

Let me be simple today.

Let me be direct today.

Let me not decorate nor add a flourish to simple endings and beginnings. Let my actions have economy and my words clarity.

In this orderly discipline, Lord, let me find true liberty.

(Letter #2,002)

You have already led me, why do I seek guidance? This pathway exists and I walk it.

My own inventions, new paths, are diversions which take me nowhere but back to where I started.

Let me marvel at the flowers and creatures I meet as I go your way. Thy will be done, as it already is.

(Letter #2,001)

Let the course of the day, how I live, be my devotion. How I step through each turning, how I bend and lift each new burden, how I carry the broom to sweep – let me bring careful attention to each act.

This day, raw wood. Let me form it into a treasure box, strong and lovingly adorned, containing all the gifts I will pass along to my brothers and sisters.

This day, blank canvas. Let me paint a picture of peaceful meadows. Each step I walk today, another brushstroke.

This day, devoted to you, Lord.

(Letter #2,000)