Monday, December 20, 2021

I was broken into pieces, each one an example of defect. Pride, sloth, envy.

You drew me along this path and now with you I sit, watching the sun rise over a happy land. I am at home, Lord.

Such compassion have I for the broken one who resented even those first steps. They knew not where they would be led.

Today we walk. Where will we go? Which of today’s defects will I lose? For what new grace will I then be grateful?

(Letter #2,536)

Sunday, December 19, 2021

I jump to catch the birds, run after the deer, grab for the fish.

Your kingdom, Lord, just out of my reach. I am a marvel of effort yet the starling remains beyond me.

Sit with me, lean towards me while I lean towards you. Who knocks and who opens?

While we debate, the creatures visit and tarry.

Distract me from my grasping, Lord.

(Letter #2,535)

Saturday, December 18, 2021

Abundance born of rain and heat.

Joy from weeping nights.

Ease after bone-wearying labor.

This corner of sanctuary was always here waiting for me. You pointed along the path, yet it appeared too dull; I set out into the wilderness.

The others at rest here, did they come through the same gauntlet? What might I share, Lord, of my own experience?

Abundance, joy, ease. It was here all along.

(Letter #2,534)

Friday, December 17, 2021

Fruit grows already on the vines. Do you see it, neighbor?

The cistern has long been filled. Will you dip your cup, O brothers and sisters?

The world sparkles, Lord, yet they do not see. Let me share your treasure.

Let your gifts be seen, Lord.

(Letter #2,533)

Thursday, December 16, 2021

I am marching; strengthen my resolve, Lord.

Make me willing to go where I do not wish to go, to stand where I would cower, to speak love where I would grumble, to encourage where I would punish.

Let your will be my will, Lord.

(Letter #2,532)

Wednesday, December 15, 2021

Gray skies, morning gloom. Unmoving I sit. Are you speaking to me in this mist? I strain and lean forward to hear.

I do not see the sun already burning away the clouds from the top down. I need do no more than sit and soon all is bright.

Mood lifts. Is this Providence? Did I not already have reason to sing?

Lord, teach me joy no matter the skies.

(Letter #2,531)

Tuesday, December 14, 2021

The day calls with its duties and obligations. I delay and cower out of fear and sloth.

My privilege is to polish the furniture and floors of your mansion, Lord. Wherefore this worry? Does the valet fear the garments they fold?

Draw me out and take my hand, Lord. Sing with me as I set to work, sweet companion. Bestir me out of my waiting place.

Hide I, no more. I serve you, Lord. Let me serve.

(Letter #2,530)

Monday, December 13, 2021

I fear them, they face me. It is a morning of battle.

Let me, Lord, be willing to walk out onto the field, and ask what they need. Let me cross to them and give aid where they ache, nourish the hungry ones.

My forces murmur and shuffle behind me as they watch. Soften their hearts, Lord, that they may join me in washing the feet of my enemy.

Let me live beyond battle, Lord.

(Letter #2,529)

Sunday, December 12, 2022

Fear speaks. Worry grows.

Poverty. Ignominy. Calamity. Even before my feet are on the floor.

Yet I walk upright through secure rooms. Above a roof. Food to eat. Eyes to see.

You came before all, preparing the way and drawing the crowds. We thrive under your loving gaze. Why worry we?

Through my dry roof, rain your love upon me, Lord, that this fear may be drowned out and washed away.

We have enough, are safe, and dry.

Providence. Love. Safety. Even before our feet are on the floor.

(Letter #2,528)