Saturday, April 10, 2021

I thought I would bring peace to this place simply by being still in the early hours. A riot of birds call, deer and foxes run. What calm could I bring to this joy?

In the village is conflict and chaos. Shall I bring peace to that place? Can I, yea, bring joy from the meadow into the alleyways?

Am I healing others or myself? Point me, Lord.

(Letter #2,282)

Friday, April 9, 2021

I tremble before the duties of the day. Do I fear poor outcomes, or simply the existence of work?

Like a child, I pine for a day empty of obligation. On such days I am rudderless, a paper cup in the wind, and I retire regretful and dissolute.

Are these chores gifts? A child seeks not idleness but play. Let me approach these gifts as a child.

(Letter #2,281)

Thursday, April 8, 2021

What stand am I willing to take? I cower in the face of others’ judgment, my devotion unproclaimed.

Am I, then, indeed your child? I feign self-sufficiency and orphan-hood.

This wide path I walk, it will reach a fork and I will have to choose.

Let me walk toward the sun, Lord, even along a disused road.

(Letter #2,280)

Wednesday, April 7, 2021

For there to be peace, someone first must lay down arms.

Let me be the one who surrenders.

For there to be growth, the seed must die as the new shoots unfurl.

Let me be the seed, become a husk.

Plan upon plan, let me give it all up, that your will might be done.

Let me volunteer, Lord.

(Letter #2,279)

Tuesday, April 6, 2021

An open field, a blue sky, a lone tree. Even at noon there is a shadow. The brighter the sun, the darker that small bit of meadow.

O perversity, there is where my focus falls. I peer and peer, unable to discern the blades of grass. Crestfallen at such blindness, I retire at night a failure.

And all along, the sun shone upon my neck and lit the way for the multitudes who passed by, wondering at me on hands and knees.

Lord, loosen my gaze that I may see again.

(Letter #2,278)

Monday, April 5, 2021

My worries and woes are trivia. I fear judgment of others, and that what I want will be withheld.

These are my prayers: let me be accepted; let me have bounty.

Have I not these things already? Is there more that I could legitimately ask?

Let the day be one of sufficiency, Lord, your gifts already received and revealed.

(Letter #2,277)

Sunday, April 4, 2021

Joy upon joy is coming, yet still do I mope in the face of a garden that needs weeding.

I kneel before the window at dawn. Warm light kisses my elbows while I clasp my hands.

Not one challenge too many do you lay upon me, Lord, and not one gift too few. To whom shall I pass this good news?

(Letter #2,276)

Friday, April 2, 2021

Made, improved, remade again. I was a child and then grew. As an adult I learned to seek you, and was reborn.

I was criminal in my trangressions, and made amends. Now I try to heal my fellows.

From change to change, to change yet again. Who would imagine that today’s rebirth might be possible? Yet each day passes imperceptibly, each dawn the same as that before.

Make me into a slow revolution, Lord.

(Letter #2,274)

Thursday, April 1, 2021

Your light permeates the world, and yet I forever seek a torch.

You provide all I need for the day, and yet I worry at dawn where supper will be found.

You protect your children, yet I fear something as simple as walking out the door. I sit immobile and mulish.

My lips say Lord, Lord, yet my inner life denies you. Bring my heart, soul, and hands into alignment, Lord.

Let me live you.

(Letter #2,273)