Sunday, December 20, 2020

Enemies, or simply hunters, have placed a snare along the way on which we walk. Early this morning, you whispered to me exactly where I would need to be watchful.

Now we walk together by the trap, stepping gingerly around it, and I view it with neutrality.

And yet I wring my hands over unseen snares. Are you not with me, a constant companion? Wherefore come I to such disloyal fantasy?

Lord, you save me and save me again, even before the need. Let me walk serene, knowing this.

(Letter #2,171)