This day, the same as any other, equal to the best and the worst. You are with me when the sun shines and when the rain falls. How dare I judge one or the other?

Let me greet this day as precious, Lord, the only one I am to have. Great treasures will be unearthed, great battles won and lost, while a calm breeze blows.

This day, you have given me oak and maple. Am I to burn or build? Let me make the finest table that I can.

(Letter #2,131)

Will you sit with me? I will sit with you. Let us draw near to one another. Let us glow on one another.

Later, let me pass on the ember.

(Letter #2,130)

I am alone on this high path, alone with you. Still I worry over what awaits me on my return.

I scarcely see the stones at my feet, fixed as I am on phantom memories and trouble.

Lord, let me attend clearly to where I am, and turn not my ankle. The sky is cloudless and the way back long.

(Letter #2,129)

Poison courses through me, thoughts of resentment and revenge. I sit atop a heap of imagine foes and dodge spears made of mist. What is worse, the weapons I wield are aimed inward.

I battle in my sleep, only to discover twisted sheets in the morning.

Awaken me, Lord, and let me see clearly. You have been holding me in your lap all along.

(Letter #2,128)

Over and over, you give me a gift of this moment. I accept it so rarely.

Lord, take away my distraction and wishful thinking. Let me see the moment unfolding. Let me do your will in it.

(Letter #2,127)

Let me live without need of courage, nor hope.

The sun rises on the plain; I cannot wish it away. Rains come; we will get wet.

You have placed me here in the middle of the storm to show others how to live in the downpour. What care that my body shivers? Let me not abandon my post.

(Letter #2,126)

I have strength to meet the day.

I despair over my weakness and dart around, agitated. Let me wait while you open the way, Lord, and quietly pick up the tools you have placed before me.

You have set me the tasks for which I am equipped.

(Letter #2,125)

Each heartache an opportunity. Each failure a gift. Lord, let me see it so.

In penury I wish for sufficient resources. In trial, for acquittal. Lord, such limited aims.

Let my faith grow mountainous, my sweet friend. Here you sit with me, how can I not know of your power, your love, your way of life?

May I do thy will always.

(Letter #2,124)

I will leave the coffers empty for you to fill.

I will pour out the oil, that I may receive and give more.

I will spend my last cent and turn out my pockets.

Lord, I am ready for your love to pass through me.

(Letter #2,123)

Guilty, guilty, guilty, goes the chant. I awaken with thoughts of all that is undone, how I have fallen short.

What a haze of self-made woe. I am sheltered, fed, and it is a day of rest. Yet I gnash my teeth.

I tremble so; my hair is on end. Soothe me, Lord. Make me into a grateful being.

(Letter #2,122)