Even as, long ago, I spoke to you of my cares and woes, laying my worries at your feet in desperation, then began you working your grace.

The solutions were set in motion even as I asked!

You are providence, Lord. The crops do not yet grow but the seed rests in the granary. Spring will bring planting and, fall, harvest and bounty.

Thank you for all the overflow that is already on its way.

What new worry am I to lay at your feet today? O Lord, grant me patient acceptance.

(Letter #2,558)

My fears are all what-ifs.

This gnawing worry at dawn is concocted of things that may come to be tomorrow. Transfixed, I do not even see the day before me, laid out and full of bounty.

Lord, help me live today, today.

(Letter #2,557)

A rubble-strewn path. Each step requires care lest I turn my ankle.

My attention wanders. What do I place before the attention this current task requires? The vista. The weight of the burden I carry. What they will think of me if I fail. What I left behind.

Distractions, Lord. They come between me and you, and thus become idols. I will trip and fall from disloyalty.

You are with me guiding my feet, Lord. Let me willingly be led with care and attention.

(Letter #2,556)

What is the story I will tell of this day? That I rose, found all in disarray and labored unsuccessfully to set it right?

Or will the story be that I rose, found puzzles and new activities to pursue, and was well occupied in play until the sun went down?

An observer would see each story unfold the same. As my mood shifts, play becomes labor in a moment, and then back.

Lord, deliver me from the stories I tell myself.

Acceptance begets peace begets joy. Grant me acceptance.

(Letter #2.555)

In the silence, will I intrude and add my voice? Will the sound I make block others from hearing?

You murmur gently to them, and to me, yet I jabber on.

Let me sit in silence today, that I may hear you reaching me with whispers.

(Letter #2,554)

Let me dismantle my own hope, a mist of wishful thinking on which nothing solid may be built. My hope for better days, times of ease, relief from trial.

The reality of your gifts surrounding me is greater than even my brightest hope. The truth is I am supported by your hands and supplied with all I need.

I want for nothing; I am thus already wealthy.

You deliver no challenge too great; I am thus already strong.

Let me abandon myself to you in surrender, Lord, and let my hope turn into the reality of faith.

(Letter #2,553)

I do not even know what to pine for. Teach me. Let me approach you, empty not just in resources but empty of desire, too.

I am the bewildered one. Quicken a seed within me that grows into a direction. Grow me into the one who longs only for your will.

Let the peace of right desire wash over and through me, Lord.

(Letter #2,552)

I fear what may happen tomorrow. Meanwhile, what of today?

There is a stone I must carry; it is not too burdensome. Yet as I walk, I look far down the road and trip over roots underfoot.

Where is my presence? Fix my thought life to this day, Lord. Tomorrow is too great a burden.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,551)

A box canyon.

A blank wall.

The seed eaten, just five grains of rye remain.

Hungry rabbits eye the granary.

Lord, miracles will descend. Where there was no way, there will be a way. Bounty will overflow.

These trials, this hunger, will fade. Let me be grateful already, this morning, for the afternoon’s gifts.

(Letter #2,550)

We stand by the well, a thirsty crowd has gathered. The last rains were long ago.

We will slake their thirst, you and me, one cup by one cup.

There is enough for all. There is unlimited supply.

Lord, your gifts are measured out to me one day by one day, steps along a journey. Let me see how long and joyous is the road.

(Letter #2,549)