Where are those weeds I had intended to pull? Where that fence line I was to mend? I look, but cannot find yesterday’s troubles.
Today was to be a day of woe. Instead I have clear skies. What shall I do beneath the bright and unsparing sunshine?
Lord, I give thanks for the winds that blew over my pile of duties. Order my steps, and let me live the day gratefully.
(Letter #2,163)
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