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)

Light steps.

No heavy march, leaving little trace. Gentle on the land.

Light heart.

Troubles light and momentary. Here, gone, fleeting.

Let me walk lightly, Lord.

(Letter #3,181)

Joy pours down upon me this day and all days — do I see and accept the rains? Let this not be a day of mopery, for you built me to be a being of gladness and love.

My fellows around me, all seeking happiness, and me among them. How could you fail us, you sweet Friend, who love us, your children, so dear?

Walking through the day, let me be attentive to building others’ joy. You placed me here for that purpose. Let me trust you have arranged for others to care equally for me.

(Letter #3,180)