Let cease my worry, my judgment, my battles, my resistance, my guardedness, my self-pity.
The world is yours, it is new, it shines. Let me be no miser of treasure, resentful of all who lay claims.
Can I smile and sing as the wind blows? Of course I can. Here is the new day.
Let wither the old me, Lord, that I may be more yours.
(Letter #2,687)
Daily Letters to God 
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