I will seek you constantly, even when I will have thought I found you.

How could I have anticipated these gifts you now rain down upon me?

Yea, therefore: I will yet seek. Who knows what may emerge around the next turning?

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,566)

I stand alone in a clearing, sun high, stark.

Is this the training ground, Lord? Will I learn new ways on this spot?

Is this a field of labor? Am I to plow this land?

Or will this, Lord, be a battleground? Are enemy forces even now trickling in and hiding in the trees that surround the meadow?

Grant me willingness, Lord, to rise to any task. You guided my steps and here I stand.

You o’erwatch me, let me make you proud.

(Letter #2,565)

A thief in the night, sneaking in unseen and unheard, came this feeling of well-being.

Drip by drip, uncounted and unnoticed, these drops swelled the cistern and now there is water for all.

Lord, you healed me while my attention was elsewhere, the physician distracting the child.

Now well, now with plenty.

All will be healed, yet my neighbors wail on, in trance. How, then, shall I spread this joy?

(Letter #2,564)

Nothing is too small for your notice. You see me, even in my meagerness.

I am no beast nor mule, but your child. Yet I spend away the hours in play, sand castles that will wash away, gone even for the crabs.

If I am to make small things, Lord, let me do so with care and attention. Wooden boxes, find enough to carry the jewelry of royalty.

Grant me clear sight and steady hands, Lord.

(Letter #2,563)