Stretched to breaking, ground to a nub, depleted and empty — all this I drag with me day by day through a bleak land. Where is the rescue?

Sun shines down, gentle rains grow green shoots, cisterns fill — all this too on view.

What I see is created by my interior life, Lord. You already give me all I need, want, and more. Why then do I chase these receding banners?

You prepare a table for me, in full view of all. But more than that, the gardens are already lush.

Grant me new sight, for victory is nigh.

(Letter #2,781)

I awakened where you intended me to be.

Now here in my rooms, my thoughts, too, are directed by you.

This mood of panic, why did you send it to me? This woe, why?

I will get up from here and walk in the dark, blind. Yet my feet glow and others see my way following behind me. The blind thus lead the blind.

Let me trust, Lord, and carry on walking. Even in dark woods, I am where you placed me.

(Letter #2,780)

My small garden is tended and my stoop is swept. Satisfaction of a tidy dwelling.

Is this what you want for me, Lord?

There is yet more to do. My neighbor’s flock need tending yet they are crushed by woe and do not leave their home. The village green is overgrown.

A pond lacking outlet becomes stagnant. Let me, Lord, turn my energies outside of my narrow arrangements.

(Letter #2,799)

If you speak to me through the mouths of others, you must then also betimes speak to others through me.

Is my tongue worthy of your words, Lord? Are my hands worthy of your deeds?

My feet take me in your direction, can I even know when and where I will finally rest? With whom, finally, I will have discourse?

The river is patient with the mountain through which it cuts a valley. Smooth stones did not start that way. Let me end up in the right place, Lord.

(Letter #2,798)

I seek the sun, yet already does it shine on the land. I seek your will, yet already it shall be done.

What I seek, already it is here. Grant that I may recognize all you already have granted.

Already, Lord. You are the Lord of the already.

(Letter #2,797)

There is a wall.

Decades ago, you moved someone to clear the field, gather the stones, stack them in a line. Later, others came to repair breaches left by freeze and refreeze. None could imagine how important the wall would be, now is, to one soul’s thriving.

For here, seated by this old stone wall, I rest between duties. Without this respite, I would tire and falter.

These anonymous labors upon labors — unknowing needed. My own simple duties of the day, how will they help tomorrow’s?

Thank you, Lord, for generation and generation.

(Letter #2,796)

Are you intercessor, or author? Can one friend be both?

The last minute rescue dazzles me in hindsight. I was then so grateful, now so amazed. If I knew it were coming, what would my thoughts have been prior?

Faith. Trust. Power. Peace.

Rescue is coming, let us rejoice in its assurance.

(Letter #2,795)

New day, new sun, new path. New self.

Yet this day dawns like all the ones previous, with slow red sky and stirring creatures. Is it then new? Am I then new?

Changeable me, Lord, let me see the road as the one I have walked before. There is newness and renewal; let me discern the difference.

Renewed day, renewed me.

(Letter #2,794)