What is joy, why do I feel it, how shall I spread it?
Daily diligence has brought my footsteps to this place. I stand on hallowed ground, let me remove my sandals.
Yet still I walk, barefoot through the thorns. Trouble visits the lives of the holy; why not me?
My heart swells, Lord, yet it is a murmur. I lean in to hear.
Joy is quiet effort.
(Letter #2,180)
