I will overcome nothing. No effort will allow me to surmount obstacles, or fight battles.

When I reach the wall, Lord, it will crumble. My enemies will flee. The burdens will be lifted.

Lord, I pray for strength when I should better seek to trust you. This is a life of ease you have given me, if only I were to see it rightly.

Yet instead, I worry and fret over future trials.

Let me learn the lesson of ease.

(Letter #2,221)

I am awake. Why, then, fear I dreams and their shadows?

I am well able. Why, then, fear I burdens and labor?

I am loved by you. Why, then, fear I derision and disapproval of the mob?

Lord, I have all I need. It came from you.

Thank you, dear friend.

(Letter #2,220)

At times my devotion to you consists of keeping my rooms tidy and polishing the floors. Tending to the small things, bringing care and craft to each movement.

Why think I that this must be hidden? Maybe you wish us to open our doors and circulate, that one another’s devoted acts may inspire others who live now amidst clutter.

When we gather to sing in the square, Lord, let our harmony embolden the unvoiced.

(Letter #2,219)

Am I to be grateful for this moment of health? Or for the days upon days that precede?

This reservoir of fresh water has accumulated drip by drip, Lord, and now my thirst is quenched.

I balance in the middle of a narrow path; you taught me over years how to keep my shoulders above my hips.

Thank you, Lord, for all those yesterdays.

(Letter #2,218)

I ask that your will be done. This is its own form of pride, to imagine that anything other than your will might take place.

Your will, it will be done. I had better ask for willingness that this be so.

Take away my mulish self-seeking, my obstinacy, my calculation. Open my heart to what you cause to occur.

(Letter #2,217)

Does the world celebrate each stone in a field wall? The hinge around which a gate opens and closes?

Each leaf that grows, then falls, is its own forgotten masterwork.

Today, Lord, let me give my work its due.

(Letter #2,216)

Walking a razorback track, I fear the heights. I fix my attention on the drop to either side.

The more I fear, the more intently I look, and the nearer my feet drift to the edge.

In truth, this pathway is well marked and climbs only slowly. The way is easy if I attend to my walking.

You are showing me beauty, Lord, yet all I see is danger. Unblind me.

(Letter #2,215)

Why fret I when the orders of the day are so simple? Arise, maintain my physical body, help others, fulfill duties.

I look at the path before me and fear what is around every turn. Frightened of tomorrow, I miss how easy is today. Frightened of the afternoon, I miss the beauty of the dawn.

Let me do your will today, Lord.

(Letter #2,214)