The trails crisscross and there is no clear direction. One leads to another and folds back again.
One foot in front of the other, Lord. Breathe in, breathe out. These are your directions in a land of no direction.
Lo, in the midst of the barest life, comes another traveler. More hungry than me, I can offer food. Injured, I can sit with them.
No wonder, Lord, that you slowed me down, for I might have stepped over this one lying by the road.
Let me give thanks even for my halting pace.
(Letter #2,886)
Daily Letters to God 