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)
Daily Letters to God 