At dawn under birdsong, I pray for what I need. In storms, I ask for shelter; when hungry, I seek nourishment.

How can I know what I need? My perspective is so narrow.

Do I need shelter, or better garments? Do I need food, or the awareness that comes of fasting?

O Lord, provide what I need, and grant me grateful acceptance.

(Letter #2,339)

For too long I have seen myself as the architect of my own rescue. I have enough for the day’s march yet I fret over tomorrow’s meals. It is summer days, yet I am despondent that winter will come.

Today is filled with providence, most of which remains unseen. I never saw the robber whose heart you turned; the avalanche that never began.

Resting in your palms, let me walk buoyed through the day, this day.

(Letter #2,338)

As I walk this mountain path, I see wider and wider views.

False summit after false summit, have I reached yet another? Will tonight be spent on the ridgeline, wind upsweeping, or in another lean-to by the roadside?

Nearer and nearer I come. Prepare the flags, I am reaching you.

(Letter #2,337)

Walking alone through arid lands, there is no conflict.

Exhausted after great effort, I easily sit still.

Drunk, my neighbors laugh together where before they fought.

Is this peace, Lord? Is your gift no more than the absence of battle and agita?

O my friend, grant me an affirmative peace, that it may be something I can pass on.

(Letter #2,336)