I look to times where later I may face choices, but what of my path now? Are my feet not already at a fork in the way?

Every moment, filled already with infinite choice.

Let me see the freedom of choosing, dear Lord.

(Letter #2,697)

Polish me smooth, a river rock. Collect me, stack me as a marker.

Let perseverance do its work upon me, Lord.

(Letter #2,696)

To an observer, I sit still.

Inwardly, war is being waged, self against self, joy against despair.

The weapons: Stillness. Dependence. Self-overcoming.

I am one force among many, Lord, part of your arsenal. How shall I be employed?

The war wages on.

(Letter #2,695)

Wound like a spring, unclench my gripping hands.

My weakness; your opportunity, Lord.

We are so needy, grant us willingness to seek you.

(Letter #2,694)