I have mapped the day already, and planned my path. Arrogance and folly, for you will determine my steps.

The road may wash out, the bridge may crumble, a new way may open. Who am I to predict?

I have a ball of fear inside me due to conversations that may happen days hence. I dread the calamity that has not yet come to pass, for it might.

O Lord, let me cease looking ahead. Let me fill my moments with thoughts only of today.

(Letter #2,060)

The water of the ocean rises to the clouds, falls and becomes streams and rivers, and returns to the sea.

The child grows, creates a family, and bears offspring.

All is circulation. I awaken and wonder what will befall me. I see battles looming. Instead, let me be a member of your economy. Let me give and receive, take and pass on.

Let me be a step along the way of your design, Lord.

(Letter #2,059)

Breathe here with me. Let me breathe you in, and out.

I will wait before working.

Yesterday’s anxious movements are in the past. Today I will walk slowly into the fields to labor.

Let each moment unfold like a flower, imperceptibly, taking up all the time allotted.

Slow my breathing, slow my walking, slow my speech, slow my desires. Let a full day pass between dawn and dusk.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,058)

Coins found on the ground.

Rescue from calamity.

Sun on chilled limbs.

Lord, let me live more gratefully today.

(Letter #2,057)

You are answering me, bit by bit. Yesterday’s woes relieved ever so slightly; and the day before, and the day before. I carry a load you remove brick by brick.

Lord, I grow impatient. Where is relief?

Grant me greater faith and patience, dear Lord. Each day brings with it a new delivery of aid.

(Letter #2,056)

I awaken, sheltered and dry, with a walkway prepared already to my place of work. But all feels chaos. When I look for the path I see only dark forest and overgrowth. War drums beat from the next valley.

Fear poisons my sight, Lord. I think I alone am to go against this wilderness, not seeing the sunlit path you have established and the helpers who are ready along the way. Where is my faith in you? I have convinced myself I am friendless.

Hold my hand, Lord. Rescue me from my own fear.

(Letter #2,055)

Snared by confusion, I do not know the direction to go. Where shall I place my foot? Should I even move?

Panicked, I twist and stomp. Grant me a gentle touch and a listening ear.

You are already here, Lord, let me listen to your guiding.

(Letter #2,054)

There is a tangle of dread at my feet. It remains as I stand and walk, kicking to shake it off.

I soothe myself with breath, but my foundation is unstable.

Lord, let me not ignore what is there at my feet. Make me willing to tease out the knots in this ball of yarn.

(Letter #2,053)

Fear and agitation, they visit me at dawn. I shut the door yet they steal inside.

Lord, grant me knowledge of the lessons you are teaching me. Let me become willing to love even enemies.

(Letter #2,052)

You have prepared this day for me; when I lay down my head at evening it will be gone. What shall I fill these hours with?

Instead of walking out into the air, I dither and worry. I plan and plot. All this, wasted moments.

I have collected my woes into a barn and contemplate them. This morning, let me burn it down and leave it behind.

Let the day be filled with walking.

(Letter #2,051)