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)

Supply matches need.

Let spirit move my body, let my heart hear your calling, let my labor only be what is called.

Let not my busy ways drive away peace.

I plow this field; I need not also create furrows by the lakeside and in my neighbor’s plot.

Let me hear you, Lord, and rest before you.

(Letter #2,858)

Dawn and red sky, you look down on a whole village of which I am a small part.

A vole, collecting seeds. A bird, hopping bush to bush. My pursuits so simple, why then do I judge my neighbor?

Lord, shine down love on my fellows, let them find joy in your time.

Let peace begin with my attitude.

(Letter #2,857)

Resting, waiting for a word to enter my heart.

Working, setting my hands to directed labor.

You were with me both times, dear Lord, and when I left, and wandered, and careened, and then came back, you welcomed my return with no condemnation.

Resting, then working, this new life is for me.

(Letter #2,856)

Look down on clouds from the mountaintop. They hide the village below. Yet there lies my home, my heart.

You brought me here, Lord, to be apart. What shall I do when I return? Will I recall the cloud tops, were they the lesson?

On the ground, let me bring some of the skies to my fellows.

(Letter #2,855)

Roots in soil, shoots pressing upward. I am green grasses. Does the wheat have a plan? It simply grows.

Let me follow your lead, Lord, as I grow.

(Letter #2,854)

Dogs roaming the edge of the firelight. Glowing eyes.

Here with you, Lord, safe and obedient. How did I come to know you? I knocked, so unlike me. How could I have known you would answer? It was an act of desperate faith.

Look at me now. I was in such fear and now I make camp on the edge of wilderness.

Let us sleep, safe, the dogs at bay, in a pool of protective light.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,853)