Lord, you are in me, yet still I carry this rock. Grant me ease, peace – that I may let it go and walk unburdened.

Let me feel you unwinding the springs in my chest, Lord.

(Letter #2,688)

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)

I whirl throughout the day, rebounding from wall to wall. Slow me, still me, Lord, that I may hear you.

You are speaking to me, am I listening? Let me listen for you.

Let me learn stillness, Lord.

(Letter #2,686)

The burden is lighter than I feared.

The sorrow is less than it could be.

The trial is easily borne.

Clouds part. Sun shines.

O glorious day! Even if there is gloom, let me rejoice.

(Letter #2,685)

Here am I in this moment, why do I pine for another?

Grant me acceptance, Lord, that I may make the most of where and who I am.

(Letter #2,684)

Fear, as I face the day.

Was I led here? Then surely you will guide me through my terror.

Am I here out of self-will? Then surely you will rescue me from myself.

Let me feel you with me, Lord. Let me feel your guiding hand on the small of my back.

(Letter #2,683)

The day is filled with moments yet to come. Which ought I fear? Which look forward to?

I long for ease and peace, yet even an idle day contains episodes I try to avoid.

Is it me, not the moments, that must change? Lord, let me see you taking my hand as the dawn grows and we walk into the day together.

Why fear I? I have power none could match.

Let me try to follow your will today, Lord.

(Letter #2,682)

Two selves, a higher and a lower. The one who seeks your will, the one who seeks their own.

Reclothe me, Lord, in your garments. Let the me who pursues my own will wither.

Let me seek and do your will today.

(Letter #2,681)

When I wish to wander, you root me with obligation and duty.

When I wish for assurances, you whip up winds of change and upend the skies.

When I wish for peaceful days, you bring calamity, then rescue.

Through it all, let me be the oak, let others cling to my limbs and trunk while the days and days unfold. This is who you made me, Lord.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,680)

You have stamped me, Lord. How is your mark now visible to my fellows? How can I live in a way that draws others near to me, to you?

Let me live as a demonstration of your love, my sweet friend.

Draw them nigh!

(Letter #2,679)