Monday, June 28, 2021

I awaken; I am on the way. This encampment is just another one of many that I will have made before my journey ends.

Let me clean my site and press on without regret. No need to mourn the passing of what was simply a resting place.

Lord, let me discern the permanent from the fleeting.

(Letter #2,361)

Saturday, June 26, 2021

My tragedy is self-writ, born out of my own will. I mark my own path and find myself in wasteland.

O perverse irony! I asked you for strength to persevere along this very way. Where is there room for obedience?

Had I followed your way, I should be resting in Alpine meadows with the deer. Instead I suffer under harsh light, by brackish waters.

Lord, let me follow your way from the beginning. Guide even my first step out the door.

(Letter #2,359)

Thursday, June 24, 2021

Same road as yesterday. Dawn, walk, dusk, rest. Day upon day. Are you near to me, equally through each?

Today brings no special order nor task. Visit me nonetheless, Lord, even bearing no instruction other than: persist.

Let persistence become peace, dear Lord.

(Letter #2,357)

Wednesday, June 23, 2021

The tide comes in, and goes out.

The sun rises, and sets.

Rain, then drought.

The weather is changing, Lord. In what season am I — growth, harvest, winter dormancy? Does it matter?

Let me live into you nonetheless.

(Letter #2,356)