What is the truth of things? That we appear, exist, depart like mist. All is fleeting, yet this moment is permanent.

Let me exist here and now, Lord.

(Letter # 3,191)

My past, could I stand before it?

Error and omission. Shortfalls and striving. I have been a human being, Lord, needy before your power.

Could I have known the peace and ease available even then? My dearest and most intimate Friend, you whisper in my ear that all is well. You have been whispering all along, and only now do I hear.

My brothers and sisters, in woe and gnashing teeth, let me soothe them with the news. They can hear you if they sit still. Perhaps we can listen together.

All is well. All will be well.

(Letter #3,190)

Drawing near to you, you draw near to me.

You buoy me, and my trust has never been shown to be unfounded. Let today recapitulate yesterday.

Let me approach with confidence, Lord.

(Letter #3,189)

Limitation and lack. Is this such a terrible fate? Or am I human, a brother among brothers, neighbor among neighbors, all of us with our own weakness?

Lord, let me love imperfection, for it makes me one of many, and opens wider the door for you to enter.

Grant me strength to do your will today.

(Letter #3,188)

A balm for a weary heart, you sneak in and comfort me with gentle voice.

In my morning seat, sun on rise, I unclench my jaw.

Every day you come to me, Lord. Every day you soothe your anxious child.

Rescue upon rescue. Let gratitude ring out from here.

(Letter #3,187)

What if I caught what I seek?

What if what I seek caught me instead?

Is that your plan for me, Lord?

These banners after which I run, let me walk smoothly toward them, walking by faith and not sight, step by step, held up and guided by you.

Hold still my quarry, Lord.

(Letter #3,186)

Wider and wider grows the circle of light you shine upon me, Lord. Greater and greater grows the power.

Lighter and lighter grow our hearts. You drip honey on the land.

We can walk with ease along broad paths, this is what you would have for us. Need I complicate my own ways, and choose stony roads?

Grant me the joy you always had planned for me, Lord!

(Letter #3,185)

I draw near. You draw near.

What I learn here cannot be spoken, there are no words and it slips away as the sun rises.

Morning, noon, night — I draw near that you may draw near.

The law of nearness.

(Letter #3,184)

Home. Here. Now.

Yesterday has vanished as mist, and tomorrow remains a shadow.

Let me live now, here, home.

(Letter #3,183)

After calamity, earthquake, fire — silence.

The sun rises on a spent battlefield — silence.

A hurricane, the aftermath — silence.

And in it your still, small voice, if I will listen.

What are you telling me? All is well? It ever was?

Let me listen, Lord.

(Letter #3,182)