Who hopes for what they have? Let my lack be your opening, Lord.

Is faith possible in what is plain before my eyes? Let your presence remain invisible, Lord.

How can I love, when I rest swaddled in comfort? Let the gaze of my enemies be softened as I send them gifts of treasure, Lord.

Let me have gratitude for all that is not yet, that hope, faith, and love may grow within me.

(Letter #2,166)

You inhabit the smallest places, the most ordinary beings. You are the fox, the mule, the cricket.

If I sit still, the creatures may come to me. You may come to me. I am stretching out my hand, straining my ears. I am whispering into the gloomy dawn.

Will you visit me? Will I recognize you?

I am one among your creatures, Lord. Someone else sits still, listening. Would you have me visit them?

(Letter #2,165)

I am not my own. You have set me aside, apart, to be used when circumstances call for it.

Every tool has a purpose. What is mine, O Lord? Am I the chisel, the hammer, the spade? Or am I a delicate instrument with a narrow yet needed capacity?

Let me wait, patiently, for use.

(Letter #2,164)

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)