Does strength for the day come from you, Lord, or from my faith in you? If I pray persistently, do I gain yet more?

You snuck upon me along the road, entered my soul and buoyed my thoughts. One day I was alone, bereft. Later I felt light and realized you had been with me. When had you come? I could not discern the day.

Even my trust in you, a gift of grace. Unmerited. Let me, then, all the more live in thanks.

For who can say wherefrom this strength and joy?

(Letter #2,826)

Hold my hand, Lord, and guide me through the day. I am lost without you, even as I cling to the illusion of mastery.

When you hold my hand, it is the right hand. My strong hand. I am thus weakened and must rely yet more fully on you. I work haltingly with my left. Or do I let go your grip, Lord, and wield my own tools?

As I feel satisfaction in my efficient work, tying, baling, fixing — I slip away.

Let me hold your offered hand, Lord. Stay with me.

(Letter #2,825)

You grace rains down upon me. My meager gift in return: my will turned over to you.

Let me want what you want for me; let me walk where you would have me walk; let me say what you would have me say. Let my worries over the outcomes wash away in your raining grace.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,824)

Can I enjoy the growing spring even in the face of calamity? These obstacles in today’s road, let me go around or over them with glad heart, thankful for the game.

Every need I have for power to help others, you supply. You are infinite providence.

Let me indeed have grateful heart, Lord, and be a channel for your grace.

(Letter #2,823)

You see around corners, Lord.

Where I am going, you know. What I will do, you planned. Let me listen to your whispered guidance and follow your urging.

Let peace walk with me.

(Letter #2,822)

I prepare for woe that never comes, pain that never is felt. What am I to make of this? Do I take pride in my planning, give thanks for your intercession?

Or do I laugh at these distractions, and marvel at how much love I see around me? So many treasures, unseen in my self pity.

Let my feet go where you point, Lord, and let me fear not for the future.

(Letter #2,821)

I would walk upright, but something stops me from standing tall.

I would go slowly, but something makes me frantic.

I would spread love, but something makes me doubt there is enough to share.

Walk upright, go slowly, spread love — simple things you call me to do, Lord, and all that is stopping me is fear.

Thy will be done, Lord, and let my worry dissolve like mist.

(Letter 2,820)

O the power coursing through the land! Trees with buds, unfurling shoots. Barely there, yet already there.

Day upon day through winter limbs have I walked. Once-hidden meadows for all to see, dormant and brown grasses around the ankles of bare trees.

New life has arrived without my effort. What, then, has my winter of persistence brought?

Consecutive days of peace, stretching backwards and forwards. There is no past and the future never comes — and yet still it is persistence that grows today’s joy.

On this walk, Lord, today’s walk, let me breathe in the last winter air, and breathe out spring.

(Letter #2,819)

A small coin in my pocket, yet I wonder and dream of the mansions it will buy. Even so, I walk through the woods, will meager treasure buy me a meal?

What I would have thought were riches are of no use.

Lord, you have built life around me, this real life, where the currency is trust in you and love of fellow. These are infinitely renewable and can grow without limit.

Yet still I grip this useless coin in my fist. Let me let go, Lord.

(Letter #2,818)

Walking, this stony path requires care. An ankle may turn if I do not look out.

Yet it rises, and around curves I see vistas. The way up, while precise, is not hard.

Where the path has washed out, you have provided a fallen log to step over. Where it is steep, a dead limb makes a fine support.

If I watch myself with woeful heart, I might despair for the way is so hard. If I look at the same self on the same path with glad heart, I see clearly how easy you make my life — dear Lord and friend.

I need but walk with care.

(Letter #2,817)