Tomorrow never comes; yesterday never was. The sun rises on fields through which I walk anew each day.

Lord, rip away from me my regret over the past and my fear of the future. Today I have, this moment only even.

Let me thus inhabit life, from the middle. From today.

(Letter #2,862)

The world, perfect in its harmony. Blue sky, green grass, golden field.

When the storm comes and I struggle, when the flood comes and I gasp, when the drought strikes and I thirst — is your world in discord?

Is there harmony inside me, Lord? Is there balance?

Let me order the notes inside myself, let me be aligned with your will, let me see the storms become gentle showers.

Let me start with selfless love.

(Letter #2,861)

Do they know, in this new land, why and how my heart is so quickened of pace? The news, so good, of your love and sunshine? All will be well, and this is the message.

There is that one whom I have tried so long to reach. But lo, here come new ones as my path turns to fresh directions. My feet are in new fields!

Perhaps in these altered surroundings, I will find the words to be heard. New ones may hear, but so too many familiar ones. Let me carry your love, Lord, and convey:

All will be well.

(Letter #2,860)

I am a trickling stream through the field.

Later I will join another, and we will find a creek, then a river, then the sea.

A mighty vessel, crossing oceans, which drops buoy it? We all do, and none individually.

Let none suspect my power as I trickle through the grasses.

(Letter #2,859)