Monday, September 28, 2020

I walk a secret path with a hidden entrance. I can hear and see my fellows along the main track, laughing and talking together. My path is solitary and hugs the shadows.

When the drought enters its third month, and the food has dwindled, and there is no laughing, I will leave handfuls of grain to be found along the way.

When the earth opens and the beasts let loose, I will be one who joins in the battle and rescue.

How could it be that you trust me so, Lord?

Speak and act through me, dear friend.

(Letter #2,088)