Hidden in my den in this mountain-cave, quiet and morning-dark gathered around me. Nothing can touch me, Lord, here with you.

The cave, the den, unreal. I am on a cushion in my dwelling. I visit you in my heart and there you harbor me.

Meaning: I can return to my protected den at any time. I am always already there, always already safe.

O good news!

(Letter #3,179)

Twisting cliff side path — suddenly broad and stable. Did my steps take me here?

Precarious stance — suddenly rooted. How do I now balance so easily?

You grow your children, Lord. You rescue us, catch us when we stumble. Until we can walk unaided.

What was impossible now comes with ease. What later will I do that today is out of reach?

Grace upon grace. Thank you, Lord.

(Letter #3,178)

A river through the land. Broad and deep.

A trickling creek through meadow.

A cool stream sourced in the hills.

The water flows from the one to the other, why do we see the creek apart from the river? Are they not all, eventually, the sea?

Is one day in my life that different from another?

Let my days flow, Lord, without fanfare. Let me soothe parched land, and freshen the walk of the traveler equally.

(Letter #3,000)

Do I rise from this time with you, Lord, proud of my virtue and ready to display piety?

The truth of my mornings is that I approach you weak, tired, fearful — and you give me quiet confidence to go forth. Wherefore then, do I take pride in rescue?

Grant me gratitude today, Lord.

(Letter #2,999)