Wednesday, November 3, 2021

Looking out from my window, I see story upon story. The path is a story of journey. The storm, a story of trial. The dawn, a story of new beginnings.

These stories beckon me into the future, away from this moment, and lead me into judgment.

Can I live in this moment, Lord, without story? I stand on my feet in a garden, must I see only harvest time?

I walk towards tomorrow, yet will never reach it. Open my eyes, Lord, to what is here before me.

The dawn tells no story, yet lights my way nonetheless.

(Letter #2,489)