When they come calling, will I be able to offer more than dry crumbs? What have I done this day to encourage lush growth and bounty to arise within me? You are offering, Lord, am I receiving?

I walk distracted through stony lands. I could have just as easily walked along the river valley, yet I stubbornly stuck to the heights.

Ease, Lord, you offer ease. Let me accept it, let me give it.

(Letter #2,121)

I face rough seas. Preparing to go, I feel your protection. I will be blown and tossed, yet I will emerge.

You will use the storm to teach me poise; to teach others who watch the way of dependence.

Lord, heart in my throat, let me enter the chute without dragging my feet.

(Letter #2,120)

I neglect to water the garden, and yet falls the rain.

I waste time on idle pursuits, and there comes a reprieve from deadline.

Let the fruits of my life be a demonstration that even the undeserving may receive grace.

You save me, Lord, in spite of myself.

(Letter #2,119)

I long to see the full picture, and my place in it. Am I hero, villain, foil? Is this the end, or the beginning?

The sun rises, and sets, without narrative arc.

Lord, let me learn to live each moment as the gift you have given. Let me abandon a life of limited stories.

(Letter #2,118)

I worry over tomorrow’s choices yet remain blind to the options all around me here and now.

I wonder how I will pay tomorrow’s debts, yet leave today’s bills unaddressed.

I walk nearby cool streams and do not drink, all the while thinking of how parched I may be later.

Let me drink now, Lord, and fortify against tomorrow’s lack.

(Letter #2,117)

When energy comes, my independence and mastery rises. I stomp through the yard with confidence.

My dependence has evaporated in the sun. This elation is illusion – Lord, let me hold fast to you.

Dispel these manic dreams of sufficiency. Grant me the gift of great reliance.

(Letter #2,116)

Even when the leaves are swept and the garden tended, still there is more to be done inwardly during quiet moments.

I am a dynamo in my interior life, Lord. Let me stride through the land uprooting choking weeds and clearing brush. The world sees no movement yet great things come to pass on the inside. Battles are waged, while not a finger is seen to move.

Lord, my captain, direct these forces. Dawn will come, the field will be washed clean.

Walking to attend this morning’s chores, none may suspect the victories this morning held.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,115)

No pioneer nor leader, I am one of many quiet workers. Yet in this pile of wood there lies a world to explore. Along the well-worn path to my garden, wonders.

Even my body contains revelations if I approach with care and curiosity. How best can I place this foot? Which angle makes my back strongest?

Lord, I numb myself with distraction. Let me awaken to the world and discover mystery.

Your treasures await.

(Letter #2,114)

Magic is loose in the world! A current flows from fellow to fellow, from neighbor to neighbor. Walking singly through a crowd, may others be uplifted simply through being near to me. Let each then encourage another.

There is a hole in my pack and my supplies are constantly drained. Still as I walk, let me trust that, as if by magic, you will restock me.

Plodding through the crowd, worried over lack, may I be uplifted by others, sharing their own magic simply through nearness.

Lord, be near to us.

(Letter #2,113)

When the mist clears, and the landscape is seen, how shall I react to what I see?

Will I wish for a more orderly and bountiful garden, for finer outbuildings? Will I see the crowds gathering and so feel menaced?

Lord, the clarity itself is your gift. I can see the path, its borders, the obstacles, the treasures.

Let me be useful to you and to my fellows, dear friend, with this new sight.

(Letter #2,112)