I long ago laid by stores for deep winter times.

Now the hungry ones visit. We are far from the nearest settlement.

This root cellar may be the center of a new village. We are drawn to one another, here in wilderness, by our hunger.

Lord, let me not guard your providence nor be miserly in my intercourse. You only fill empty vessels.

Thank you, Lord, for this growing throng of new friends.

(Letter #2,572)

Rebirth. Renewal.

Green shoots even between cracks in sidewalk. You assert your presence, Lord, even as we have forgotten you.

Grant me eyes to see, and the words to share this vision.

Let us be more than we were.

(Letter #2,571)

From the cliff, windswept, watch I the battle between Titans. You put on a show, Lord: the crashing seas become foam, yet it is only decades hence that the rocks will crumble.

Your forces are arrayed to love the world; I need but wave my hand and the waves will crash against stony hearts.

Let the winds and show not distract me, Lord. There is plenty of work to be done.

I am no commander but the one who carries water for the wounded.

(Letter #2,570)

Walking a narrow track over uneven ground, sun shines from behind me, warming my back and neck.

You are the sun, O Lord.

The shadow that darkens the way and hides the roots over which I stumble – the shadow is made by me. I darken my own way. Why do I walk in this direction?

Shine higher in the sky, Lord, or let me turn myself to walk toward you.

Let my ways be your ways.

(Letter #2,569)