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.