Who will deliver your message to me today? Neighbor or stranger, brother or foe?

Your words come to me from many quarters, Lord. Therefore let me be listening always.

Grant me an open heart and open mind, ears to hear.

(Letter #2,753)

You have made the mountains and the heavens and the skies — and each blade of grass, each drop of rain, each small, whispering murmur of a breath.

How could it be that I am alone today? The sun will rise and set on a day prepared just for me, as the same day was also prepared just for my neighbor.

Let me read the book you open before my feet, Lord, moment by moment. Your plans write themselves and, once read, erase themselves just as quickly.

Open my eyes, open my ears, open my heart to your day.

(Letter #2,752)

The one who is weighed down by selfish ways;

The one gripped with fear over being found out;

The one indolent, sitting idle —

These are my loves. These are me. Let honey drip from heaven’s boughs to soothe the hurt and misery littered all around me.

How did I come here? Let my own past become another’s hope.

(Letter #2,751)

Let the birds visit.

Let the cat stalk.

Let the neighbors knock.

I seated; the world rushes and turns. I need not follow it as it flees. Stay my mind, Lord, upon you, upon this spot, upon this breathing.

(Letter #2,750)

Walk through the forest, leave the path, ford the creek. Here in this hollow, let me husband a small oasis of shade and rest. Let me build my home here.

Travelers, let them happen upon my dwelling one by one. Some stay, share the joy of having found and having been rescued.

A fire at night for warmth. Smell the burning wood, hear the joyful song.

Rest, under a blanket of trust. Starry night. You are with us, Lord.

Have we found one another, or have you found us?

(Letter #2,749)

When the sun rises, and the creatures stir, let me go out to meet them.

When the sea swells, and the tied boats rock, let me set sail.

When the wolves howl, and the moon is high, let me go night walking.

Let me go where you send me, Lord, even into wilderness, to deliver your peace.

(Letter #2,748)

Storm, then calm.

Night, then dawn.

Struggle, then hope.

Is this the way, Lord? Do your gifts come only after denial? Are you not already supporting me, holding me in the palm of your hand, when I feel forsaken?

Treasure already at my feet, let me not march past but stop to see it. Even as I labor you smile upon me.

(Letter #2,747)

I fear woe — and it comes.

I fear worry — this becomes its own prophecy.

Might I instead fashion my own paradise?

I sit with you, I need but cry out, or even whisper, whimper, and you are here with me.

Let me then face the day knowing I have an ally and friend. My troubles fade, mist under the sunshine of your gaze.

(Letter #2,746)

Storm whips the city, yet here is a warm fire and dry roof.

In summer, heat descends, yet here is a cool garden with playing fountains.

This time, Lord, is an oasis. Let me exhale and unclench.

From here you will smooth the way where before there were stones in the road.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,745)

I stand before a well, with no bucket nor rope.

Family awaits its evening meal, with nothing in the cupboard to offer.

I tremble with lack.

Yesterday, and the days before, you brought me safely to this place. Grant me faith and willingness to keep walking with you.

First let me sit with you, Lord, while you tell me how I will be saved.

(Letter #2,744)