Sunday, March 28, 2021

I age; am I the same ship that set sail many years ago? The mast, timber, and rigging have been replaced, yet still I struggle with the winds and list. Point me east and still I drift.

Should I not have arrived? Should my ways not by now be straight?

So much repair remains.

Lord, you give me the dawn like a shiny new coin. My chores are the same as ever and it is the same body I bring to each one.

How many times have I swept this floor? Let me rediscover the broom.

(Letter #2,269)