Drop by drop, belief crept upon me and the cistern filled.
In a parched, arid land I barely saw the morning dew for the gift it was. I dug a pit, hoping the rains might fill it.
I sought and I sought, but I never found you, Lord. Instead, you found me and pressed a cup to my lips.
O sweet nectar! There are all along yet unseen in my frantic digging and waiting.
Is all well?
All is well.
(Letter #2,266)
