Let me see the truth of things.

No matter the circumstance, my task remains: give love, be love. Spread the news that all will be well.

I am a mist, here for a moment. Why dwell in yesterday and tomorrow, when all there is woe and I lack agency?

Let me live and act today. This moment is truth.

(Letter #2,455)

From you, no secrets. You see every corner, each intent, all fear.

So inadequate am I to the tasks of the world, yet here you have placed me, even knowing all you do.

Lord, I am enough. All is well.

(Letter #2,454)

If I hide here, behind this tree, will I be seen? Can I thus avoid my duties?

I am a bug on a plate, visible to all.

The light shining down is no searchlight, nor stage light. It is glorious sun, warming and quickening all it touches.

You, architect of my life, have created this day to be one full of wonder and amazement.

Let me walk in fascination, as I do your will today.

(Letter #2,453)

I scarcely know for what to pray. You interpret my groans and intercede, raining providence upon my days.

Is this not what I sought? Wherefore then do I yet whimper?

Let me see the bright sunshine outside my door, Lord. Let me close my book of woe, for there will be other days on which to add to the list.

Today is glory, let me cease this moaning.

(Letter #2,452)

I need never ask, will you be my companion? You will be with me morning and night.

I am not alone today. Relief! Joy!

We are seated together; let me reach for your hand. Pull me.

(Letter #2,451)

What if all is as I fear? What if all is calamity? What if there is rot behind the veneer?

O Lord, you have me in your arms, you are my ground upon which to stand. Here I rest with you, while the world may crumble.

These fever dreams, Lord, my gnawing fears. Reality is solid. It is me with you.

Let us amble through the fire, Lord, the cool flames cannot harm. Me with you.

(Letter #2,450)

You know my real self.

Of all the ways I would like to be seen, you know the core and — miracle, grace — you accept me.

If you love imperfect me, let me, too, do so.

(Letter #2,449)

Silence. No words, no sound, no touch.

I try to draw nearer to you, and you are here. What happens when we are together?

Worry melts. The sun shines and burns away the gloom.

Power flows. If I rise from here with straight back, none can place a burden upon me.

It will all start in silence.

(Letter #2,448)

Let me breathe in this moment.

Later may be worry, let now be breathing.

Home.

(Letter #2,447)

I lay it all before you, my worries and woes, as dawn creeps into the sky. Will you carry my burden, Lord? How shall I know what I can and cannot do for myself?

Make me willing to set aside my mulishness, Lord.

(Letter #2,446)