My limbs move as I direct. I walk upright in the sun, stretch and move. My sight is clear.

Do I thank you for these miracles, Lord? Even in gratitude, do I use my strength to follow your ways in all things?

Let me ask and ask again, waiting for your answers. Let me do your will.

(Letter #2,883)

Standing on the edge of a farm that has become a battlefield.

Is the victory over myself, over others, over the world? Who conquers whom?

When we celebrate, let our gratitude be directed rightly. Let our battles teach us lessons, not cover us in glory.

(Letter #2882)

A meadow with no track. How can I know the way across?

I am my own source of chaos, let me walk in the direction the wind, your wind, blows. Let me not turn and struggle but keep the wind at my back.

Lord, let me walk, attentive to your ways.

Let my will align with yours.

(Letter #2,881)

Warm rains, dissolving walls between fields.

The walking paths fade, new ones emerge as we run from spot to spot.

This time of flood, what will I learn? Is my task to trust the waters will recede? Or to build boats for the people? Am I steward or lifeguard?

Grant me willingness to hear you in the rains, Lord.

(Letter #2,880)

I awaken; is this not proof enough of your love and power? How have I made myself ready for this day? How, too, shall I use this day to prepare for tomorrow?

The river holds many currents, some through rocky places, but they all move in one direction and will meet the sea. Therefore let me unclench my fist and jaw, and ride with the flowing waters.

(Letter #2,879)

How can my life itself be a prayer, Lord? And at its end, will this have been enough?

Let my prayer to you deepen and deepen again. Looking back on years, this has been the path: deeper and deeper.

Let me go yet deeper, Lord.

(Letter #2,878)

Arm me, Lord, for the day. No shield and sword, but a staff for walking, a pack for carrying. Gentle thoughts in my heart for my fellows.

I face trial and woe. Let me try all the harder to bring peace to all, to think less about myself and my narrow plans.

Let me seek you, Lord.

(Letter #2,877)

I hid behind a garden wall as the horde marched through town, and was safe, yet you easily found me and drew me out.

My task is to light the lamps. After these long days of battle, it scarcely seems important. Do we not now need rest and peace above all?

You see through me, and into me, dear Lord. My quiet chore is for me. I learn, through it, persistence.

I shall try to find you even when my heart is a desert. Day will stack upon day and eventually I will have strength.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,876)

The wind blows as I walk, making one path more difficult over another.

One way lies darkness and swamp. Sun and breeze the other.

O my obstinacy! I yet push myself leftward into the mire, just because I think I can.

Let me walk with your leading, Lord, in the way of ease.

(Letter #2,875)

Sea spray in my face. Wind whips up. These waves themselves exhilarate.

How is it I do not cower? Even as I am buffeted, peace drips through me.

It is because I know you are with me, Lord.

When I return, and later face my fellows with their judgment and their thrown bricks, let me there know you are with me too.

At sea, on land, let me ever be yours, Lord.

(Letter #2,874)