I fear a crowded day, worried that all obligations will come due at once. Grant me strength, I ask in the morning.

You show love for your child in so many ways. Today you might turn another’s heart and they may labor with me. You might delay an obligation to another time. You might strike me ill and let me rest.

Grant me willingness, Lord, to greet each demonstration of love with equal cheer.

(Letter #2,237)

You have dispatched a message to me. Will I recognize the carrier? Will I hear it when it is delivered?

Lord, so much crowds around me. I am distracted and distracted again. I step over the new growth without noticing. I discard treasure as I clean my rooms.

Open my eyes and slow my pace, Lord. You have left a message, let me discover it.

(Letter #2,236)

I was prideful in youth. Yet now in autumn, do I not seek laurel leaves for piety?

I gnash my teeth at restriction. Do I not now, like water, overflow and seep into cracks?

So far, Lord, have I come. So far, Lord, have I yet to go.

Let, therefore, this day be one of sunshine.

(Letter #2,235)

The sun rises; it is dawn here. In distant lands the day has already ended. Here the sun will slowly heat a frigid landscape. There, families have warmed on the beach.

Who am I to say that my dawn is my own?

I am in a kindergarten set aside for those who need special care. Let me grow slowly to feel your sunlight, Lord.

A mouse along the baseboards, what will I find that you have left?

(Letter #2,234)