Lord, let me do these small things as if they were big things with all eyes upon me.

Let me do your will today.

(Letter #2,694)

Do I sow chaos, or bring your healing?

Do I pass along your love, or am I a source of judgment?

Am I complacent in my imperfection?

Let me approach you, Lord, and get straightened the bent parts of me.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,693)

I rise to the chores already set; I need no instructions to come with the dawn. I tends to my dwelling, my person, the grounds. These are things I do daily.

Where, then, do I learn of your will? In the small voice that corrects my attitude? In the upended cart that now needs repair and will alter my pattern?

Lord, even those things I do by rote, let me become awake to them.

(Letter #2,692)

Suspended, safe for now. Calamity below.

Do I dangle from a fraying thread? A chain with a weak link?

Do I rest in a net, with holes and gaps?

Or, Lord, have you woven a tapestry upon which I lie – threads crossing and supporting one another, safe, soft, shot through with beauty?

Open my eyes, Lord, to how safe I am and the beauty you surround me with.

(Letter #2,691)