Stretched, a taught line, how will I manage?
The calamity that befalls, the trial, the woe — are these real? My brother is struck down, yet I am spared. Is this guilt merited?
Or is it, Lord, a demonstration of your love? A lesson.
Grant me wherewithal to face the world, sweet Lord, my friend. Let me learn what you would teach.
(Letter #2,718)