In my rooms, alone, I seek you and strive to become near to you.

Yet the sun rises, I go out into the village, seek praise and comfort.

Who, Lord, will pay my wages? Will it be you or the world? I am split, one foot on each side of a line.

Let me serve you wholeheartedly, Lord. Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,435)

How will you use me?

Am I to build up another who needs encouragement? Am I to be an example of what it means to live seeking? Am I to quietly weed my garden, alone and hidden?

Free me of my self-regard, Lord, that I may better do thy will.

(Letter #2,434)

I am a tired pool. If I open a channel, you will refresh the water.

Make me willing to give, Lord. Let there be outflow.

(Letter #2,433)

Each time I emerge from my rooms, I am on display. None of us is invisible as we walk through the village.

I wish to don armor for protection and disguise. Let me instead shed my garments, let the sun shine on me. Let my brothers and sister see me without guile and hiding.

I am visible, Lord, let me embrace it.

(Letter #2,432)

Even at dawn I am panicked that the day will end with nothing to show. Frantic industry, empty action are the result. Unaware, I sweep the same spot over and over.

While one toiled over chore after chore, another knew only one thing was needful.

Lord, soothe my firing nerves and running mind, that I may find and do the one thing.

(Letter #2,431)

Two worlds. My body glides through one, as I leave my rooms and walk the village. Brothers and sisters hunger, calamity looms, rains come and go. So, too, does the warm sun shine.

A second world, peopled with souls and love. Here you reside, taking me by the hand, introducing me to other seekers. Here, even trial and woe are for the good, and the currency is love.

Let me not be distracted by the world of sensation and event, Lord. There is love to be shared, souls to be met. Let me live more with you.

(Letter #2,430)

I lay down my burden at your feet, entrusting you to carry it for me. Instead, you turn and lead me away, with my woes in a heap, shrinking away with each step.

I was always this free. Why did I not see?

Lord, what else shall I lay down? You show me freedom after freedom, let me stretch my aching limbs in the sun.

(Letter #2,429)

Unrest and calamity in the world and my surroundings, yet the world is not the world.

What I see and the stories I tell myself reflect my passions and feelings. Lord, meanwhile, you create the workings of the world for greater ends.

Where I see storms, you are bringing nourishment. Where I see trial, you are teaching resilience. Where I see discord, you are creating the conditions for healing.

Lord, grant me a glimpse of your better world. Grant me willingness to see and to do your will in it.

(Letter #2,428)

Hiding, behind my closet door, weakened and afraid of the day.

Chores await, yet I fear even the simple stacking of wood.

It is when I am smallest, Lord, that you are most immense. Even a drop of courage dripped upon me warms my limbs and quickens my heart.

Grant me sufficiency, Lord. I have never been more ready.

(Letter #2,427)

Above the clouds, I know the sun yet shines.

You have never left nor forsaken me, but my obstinacy and fear have indeed come between, a self-built barrier.

Let the clouds part, Lord, that my limbs may be warmed. I know you are there, ready to shine upon me and my fellows. Grant me willingness to furl my tent.

Let me seek and do your will today.

(Letter #2,426)