Sunday, June 19, 2022

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)