In the sunlit meadow, surrounded by flowers, I fear the mob in the forest.
Inside, surrounded by heaps of treasure, I sit panicked at the thought of conflict.
With family, surrounded by friends and goodwill, I worry from where will my next meal come.
I seek out reasons to fear, beyond all proportion.
Lord, open my eyes to the sufficiency and love you have already bestowed. I am your child. You are my friend. Thy will be done.
(Letter #2,061)
