I have found a way to walk along. Parts are broad, smooth. Others narrow. You send this road, Lord, through mild climes and rough weather.

I worry where I will go, how I will fare. My road goes where it goes, even the forking paths rejoin.

You walk with me along the way, Lord.

Let me quit my study of maps. The way is. You are.

Thy will shall be done.

(Letter #2,596)

This quiet time, in which I seek to be with you, is it necessary? Could I not find you in howling winds, in the wreckage and aftermath of a hurricane, yea, even in war?

Yet I sit, seeking you, in quiet solitude.

Lord, let me see this time as the gift it is, easing my way to you.

I am still, Lord.

(Letter #2,595)

My breath comes in gasps as I sit and consider the day’s trials. Will I be equal to my duties?

Lord, unspool the spring in my chest. Let me breathe easy, let the day wash over me.

Sit with me, hold my hand, comfort me, your child.

(Letter #2,594)

Worried how they will see me, what if instead I simply tried to be helpful?

Worried whether sufficient resources would come my way, what if instead I devoted myself to you?

Let me walk on, without cloak and staff.

The sun, let it shine down upon me.

Thank you, Lord.

(Letter #2,593)

My tidy rooms need tending each day. When I retired last eve, all was in order. Now there are repairs to be made and messes to clean.

Daily, Lord, I try to draw near to you. Each dawn I strive anew. Yesterday’s joy has dissolved like a mist in sun.

Let my simple work be sufficient to the day, Lord.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,592)

Do I stand in the light of others, throwing shadow? Let me move aside.

Do my steps disturb the earth, and undermine the paths of my brothers and sisters? Let me walk more softly.

Do I judge my neighbor, and thus condemn them? Let me learn mercy.

If I am strict with myself, Lord, let me be gentle with the world.

(Letter #2,591)

Let me move with care through this day, and bend not a single leaf.

Let my narrow aims grow, dear Lord, that I may help my brothers and sisters.

Those in my care, let them flourish.

(Letter #2,590)

Waiting, crouching behind brush. Through a long night, I may see the fox, the elk, the wolf.

Were I walking with purpose and industry, would they visit?

Lord, teach me the value of long stillness.

(Letter #2,589)

Feet, legs, hands, back, heart, eyes, mind.

Passing showers, here then gone. Sun on the plain.

I was mending a garden fence when you reached down from the skies and plucked me up, set me down upon this high tabletop with its storms and views.

Blinking at the wind rising from the valley, all of my parts are humming together. You have made me for this time. O! The joy at fulfilling my function.

Let me be what you have made, Lord.

(Letter #2,588)

Simple pleasure.

Breath.

Feet on ground.

Stretching arms.

Clear sight.

Lord, you speak to us through the world. We, your children.

Your voice is sweet; it murmurs.

Simple pleasure.

(Letter #2,587)