Is every river the same? They end in the sea, or the lake – yet each has its own source.

I walk this land. At sunset I will need rest. Let my encampment be fed by a river from pure source.

Guide my feet, Lord, as I choose my stopping place.

(Letter #2,292)

Sunshine, your light, brings ease even to the exhausted.

I am not spent; simply weary. How shall I help my fellows?

Let my limbs come to life in the warmth.

(Letter #2,291)

Do I have more than I need for the day? Then the surplus must be for a purpose.

Let me expend every store of energy, Lord, and be not miserly with your gifts. I love to hoard and that gives me comfort, yet look! Before me comes a throng of brothers and sisters with emptiness inside.

It is a sun-blasted land. You have constructed me to love bright spaces, standing more upright the stronger is noontide.

Let me be shade for my neighbors.

(Letter #2,290)

What am I, Lord?

Do I hold aloft the lantern, that my fellows may see a beacon, that it may light the dark corners?

Or am I the torch, on fire with your love?

Am I the suitor, seeking you, seeking you all along the plains and hillsides?

Or am I the pursued, with you my sweet friend, galloping to rescue me from dangers of which I am yet unaware?

You make me all these things, Lord. Let me live into this day with joy.

(Letter #2,289)

Give thanks in all circumstances, you tell your children.

The sun shines, I give thanks.

The rains come, I give thanks.

You prosper me, I give thanks.

Enemies trick me, I give thanks.

Loss and woe, heaped upon me. I yet give thanks.

I am thus loyal, Lord. Will you smile upon your servant? Or shall I walk alone?

I will give thanks.

(Letter #2,288)

From whence comes strength? Effort and rest.

From whence comes knowledge? Study and reflection.

From whence comes equanimity? Trial and survival.

This life path, you have arranged it just for me, master of masters. A gift prepared for your child.

The winds blow and agitate the morning. Calamity seems nigh. Let me observe the gathering storm with curiosity. Trial and survival.

(Letter #2,287)

I wish for guidance, to know the path, yet it is so clear. If I say I do not see it, I fool myself.

Yet I stray. I cry out again for guidance and again it is clear.

Is it tragic how willfully blind am I, that I deafen myself to your message? That I sulk in anguish, feeling alone?

This dramatic self-pity ill befits the child of the king, whose nursery is a palace.

I will cease my wailing, Lord. The way is clear.

(Letter #2,286)

I strain my ears to hear you, I lean forward and hold my breath.

I clear away the clutter of my room and sit still, listening, a blank slate.

I hear not your voice; I see not your face. O Lord, are you absent?

Even on the gray days, my heart knows your orders. March on, looking for others who are lost. Welcome them into the light. Be the walking light.

Let me be the torch for which I seek, Lord.

(Letter #2,285)

I battle with you, stubborn and mulish.

You open the door; I sit and sulk. You warm me with sunshine; I turn and shiver. You pour treasure over me while I cry poverty.

Could it be that the world I see is false? My fists are clenched. They can hold nothing.

Open my hands, Lord.

(Letter #2,284)

Within this yard, I am free to roam. The fence line vexes me.

I escape, and escape again. Each time the consequences become more severe. There are dragons in these lands.

Freedom is aligning my will with yours.

Let me taste and live this freedom, Lord.

(Letter #2,283)