Tuesday, December 8, 2020

Others come to bother and test me. I pray in my closet for strength to meet them.

They leave behind seeds, sown in battle. I do not even see them, distracted by the aftermath.

Later the meadow blooms in a riot of wildflowers.

Instead of begging for strength, Lord, grant me the awareness to give thanks even now for what will be sown today.

(Letter #2,159)