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)