The way, the way up is stony. Ankle may turn, breath comes short as I walk this uphill way. Take care, go slow.
Was this in my plans? Did I retire thinking that, on the morrow, I would climb so? The labor is hard.
If I walk this way, Lord, will I gain equanimity in the face of future hard marches?
The path rounds a bend, I see the vista you were preparing for me!
I am a rough stone that you are polishing smooth. Let me welcome your perfecting love.
Thy will be done.
(Letter #2,847)
Daily Letters to God 
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