Even this bare-looking field teems with life. Through it winds my path, and I walk through a metropolis of activity. The deer, the small creatures, the insects. Overflow.
What miracle can I expect today, Lord? I cry out for relief, some small comfort. You deliver a stream for my thirst, a bench to rest. In these simple wrapped gifts, what if there is contained vast treasure, simply unrecognized in my blindness?
Will I open my eyes, Lord?
(Letter #3,206)
Daily Letters to God 
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