I have created a small corner of chaos, simply through resisting your touch. You beckon me out, morning chores to begin, and will order my dwelling while I labor in the sunshine.

Kicking against the current, I go nowhere. Let me surrender, limp, and float through your magical lands.

All I need do is sigh: Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,040)

I live in ease while others toil. I have love of family and fellows while others live in ignominy.

You have saved me while others perish: why?

Lord, let me not misuse this grace that shines upon me.

(Letter #2,039)

You wear me away under winds and rain. Are you grinding me down, as an old statue losing definition? Or, Lord, are you polishing me?

You prune my crooked limbs; new growth unfurls from the cuts. Let these new shoots grow straight.

(Letter #2,038)

You rescued me, lifted me away, drained the seas, cleared the sky. I look about me; conditions have improved.

In truth, Lord, nothing has changed but me. The revolution has been in my heart.

The wind will blow again, the seas will rise again, the cold will come again. You remain, inside me, a warm and beating heart.

Let me bring revolution to my brothers and sisters, Lord.

(Letter #2,037)

You are shelter which I too seldom seek.

You are assistance which I rarely accept.

You are healing which I ever avoid.

Lord, you are here for me, with me. No journey is required. Let me open my eyes and heart to your glowing presence.

(Letter #2,036)

Here, away, alone: Lord, feed me and bolster me here in secret.

Shut away, hiding from the sun and wind: strengthen me.

When I walk out the door, blinking, stay with me. Walk with me.

Fill me, Lord, in secret.

(Letter #2,035)

Sneak upon me, surprise me with intercession, buoy me with providence. I forgot you were with me; I thought I was alone.

But lo! You arrive.

You were never gone.

(Letter #2,034)

Cascades of obligations rain down on me, yet I stay in my closet and seek you.

Duty calls; am I shirking?

Eyes look for me; am I hiding?

My will hangs limp like a banner in summer.

Strengthen my faith, Lord. Time with you is its own accomplishment.

(Letter #2,033)

Which direction shall I walk? How may we draw near?

My steps falter and I am weak. Lord, pull me to you.

Does the road go from me to you, or from you to me?

(Letter #2,032)

The gardener does not do the growing. The seeds sprout, the roses bloom on their own. The ground has been prepared, the weeds removed – but you, Lord, bring life into the rows.

Let me learn humility. I tidy my room and think it accomplishment.

Let me step back and marvel at the growing things.

(Letter #2,031)