Tuesday, February 8, 2022

Standing on rock, the ground presses up equally as I fall.

You meet me, Lord, where my need is greatest. You meet me, Lord, with support in precise measure.

How could it be otherwise, lest I float away or be crushed?

I am certain the sun will rise and give life, and that as I walk the ground will not shift. Grant me faith in your providence, Lord. Make me certain of your supply.

(Letter #2,586)