You have held me aloft and kept my gait upright lo these years. At the end, I will face judgment with great joy.

In these intervening days, Lord, grant me continued peace. Let trials be stepping stones and let me not evade what should be faced. Let me buoy those around me.

Whom shall I help today? Lead me to them.

Thy will be done today.

(Letter #2,711)

If shadows loom, a closed door or high wall cannot shut them out. They create more shadow.

Only you, Lord, your shining light and rising sun, can chase away darkness.

In despair, let me throw open my coverings and turn to face the sky.

Shine on me, shine on us, dear Lord.

(Letter #2,710)

Yesterday I wept. Must today be the same? And tomorrow?

Let me set aside what I think I know, Lord. Open me up to a new experience today. Joy only can exist in the present.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,709)

I am the stream that flows to the larger lake.

I am not the water that quenches the drinking fox; nor that smooths the river stones.

My duty is to allow flow.

Work in my life, Lord, let me stand aside and behold the grace you spread among us all.

(Letter #2,708)

O! You meet me when I seek you. So then let me incline your way.

On a stony path, if I look to you then you I meet.

In graceful halls, there too, you are with me.

You have never left me, Lord. These encounters, over and over, they make up the present. Past and future are dim ghosts when I live under your gaze.

Let my gait be upright, for I walk with you.

(Letter #2,707)

Ever are you with me, Lord, and ever do you shower me with grace.

Then why these worries and this troubled face? I polish the furniture in this vast mansion, and then refuse to sit at the table prepared for me.

Lord, let me accept your gifts with grateful heart, let me accept your grace.

(Letter #2,706)

You were already here. I looked but did not see. Only when I cried out, Lord, did my eyes become open.

You were already here.

I faltered, weak. Only when I collapsed into rest, did my limbs feel you lifting me.

You were already here.

Lord, let me hear your quiet voice singing to me.

You are here.

(Letter #2,705)

I pray for intercession in my woe, for providence in my lack. Such small gifts I seek, enough to get through the day or provide momentary relief.

Open my eyes, Lord, to the grace you have reserved for me. Exceedingly, abundantly, overflowing will be my life as your instrument.

Let me make of myself the sharpest axe, that you may wield me to clear field after field.

I am ready for your grace, Lord.

(Letter #2,704)

Let me be an empty vessel that you fill, Lord, and then pour it all out to quench the thirst of my neighbors.

Let me be simple hearted that you may restore faith into me.

Let me cheer my fellows as we work shoulder to shoulder. A song sung costs nothing.

Guide me into beacon-hood, dear Friend.

(Letter #2,703)

The moment surrounds me. This room, the air, the seat under me. This is what is. Lord, you have made it perfect.

Why do my thoughts then flee into the past and future? Worry over later troubles, discontent over past woe, even elation over imagined futures — all shadow-times.

I pray to you, I incline to you, Lord, and in this perfect moment you draw near to me. Let me return from these misty tomorrows and feel you here with me.

(Letter #2,702)