Let me be a window through which can be seen an Alpine meadow with trickling spring. The better I perform my duty, the less will I be seen nor remarked upon.
Even then, let me swell not with pride at my careful transparency. Even in secret I may congratulate myself.
Let them see through me, let me see through myself – transparent to your love, dear Lord.
A fine cabinet; yet is there rot beneath the veneer?
Handsome garments; yet is the flesh corrupt?
Whither my thoughts, Lord? Let me dwell rightly today. Joy, peace, love, may grow within me.
Let me stay my mind on you, let the center shine out, let the container glow with integrity.
Thy will be done in me, Lord.
My thoughts, cascading one upon the other, an unruly mob. Reorder my inner life, let me form useful ranks, a uniformed army of steady thinking.
One idea, love, spread across a battalion to be wielded upon the day.
I feared your burden, but I learned I was to carry treasure throughout the village. Who does not welcome the deliverer of gifts?
All is well with me, Lord.
Thy will be done.
Ashamed at all I have done, already remorseful over all I will yet do, crushed by guilt over what remains.
What balm, you sit hip to hip with me in the morning, murmuring love into my ears. All will be well, you promise. All is well, you whisper.
Wretch I, am I to believe this is so?
You gave me the gift of hunger, Lord, that I may learn compassion. Penury, that I may learn stewardship. Guilt, that I may learn forgiveness.
You are the miracle of health and sunshine. All is well. All is well.
The flood waters rise, yet do I trust that this boat will float on.
The sun beats down, yet do I trust rains will come, the soil will loosen, the wheat will sprout.
Rescued from passing conditions, I will yet thrive. Thank you, Lord, for the bounty on its way to me.
Today, I will row and tend my small vessel.
Grant me a confident faith, well beyond hope. Let me fear no bad news, for you are with me.
I pin my hopes on what may happen, a flimsy reed. Faith, an oak, will always stand.
Striding through a maelstrom, let faith weigh down my feet, dear Lord.
Around us the wind rushes, carrying voice and storm. Move we not. Thy will be done, no matter the weather.
If you hold my hand, I will not fall. If you guide my feet, I will not stumble nor lose my way.
My storehouse is empty, I fear lack and the need of charity, yet still you call me forth to walk these trails. All I need, I will find along the way.
Will it be enough? How could it not be?
Lord, forgive me my disbelief.
Today, piled upon a heap of yesterdays. Did I learn their lessons? Will I live today with wisdom?
In truth, I am a slow and poor learner. Taught and taught again, must I be. Each day I face dawn with worry, each day I persevere until dusk and yet survive, thrive, even.
You answered the calls of your children only after a night of fruitless fishing. Trying again, after failure, their nets overflowed.
Dawn, I shall try again. Let me meet overflow, Lord.
Thy will be done.
You gave me a treasure; I keep it in a plain box that even in wealth I might know humility.
You lifted me up; I keep in sight how low I was that I might remain grateful.
You make my paths straight; I keep a map that I might not yet get lost through arrogance.
I have been asleep in spirit, Lord, awaken me from distraction and trance. Let me seek and do your will today.
Walking across the high plains, windswept. A bug on a plate. You see me, Lord. All see me.
This is the straight path you promised when earlier I cried out for relief from crooked ways. That time seems so long ago, tucked away in my chambers, warm yet shivering in remorse.
Even now so exposed, naked, let me walk with spine erect, for you are yet with me. This is no ordeal but your loving answer to my prayers.
I give thanks.
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