You knock, I answer.

I cry out, you answer.

I draw near to you, you draw near to me.

I with you, you with me.

Let me be aware of your presence, Lord, let not the world crowd it out.

(Letter #3,312)

The grand turn in my life path, the small interruption of my garden chores — each brought by you, Lord, an example of your will.

Can I show acceptance in the small as well as the grand? Is seeing your will in minor moments the path to grace?

Let me walk toward this grace, Lord.

(Letter #3,211)

I cry out; you were already answering before a sound was made.

Let me live this day as the answer to my prayers.

(Letter #3,210)

A stony path before me; do I look intent at the rocks, and thus turn an ankle?

Do I watch the horizon, and so step off a cliff?

Let me keep my gaze on you, O my shepherd, that you may lead me through the stony way and to safety.

Let me trust the shepherd.

(Letter #3,209)

My garden overgrown, my dwelling and yard in disarray. The imperfect makes me see all the more keenly what might be perfection.

Let me lean towards you, Lord. If I draw near, will you?

This imperfect soul needs your grace.

(Letter #3,208)

Let me be an unclenched fist, let the world be a loose garment, let my gait be calm.

Tension and woe have settled in the land; let me be a source of ease for all whom I meet.

Peace, Lord, deliver peace unto my heart, that I may live peace and spread peace and be peace.

(Letter #3,207)

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)

Speak love, do love, be love.

Let me live this way, Lord.

You call me to sacrifice? To defer my own wants? To give?

Let me live this way, Lord.

You set me on a new, harder path? Through brambles and thickets — that leads to a higher plateau?

Let me live this way, Lord.

You send those who vex and worry? Who impede my way?

Lord, let me speak love, do love, be love.

(Letter #3,205)

When I walk up stairs, do I stop to consider how each tread was made, by whom? Do I consider each rung of a ladder?

I walk up, Lord. You reach down for me.

Let me not trip over distraction.

(Letter #3,204)

Let me do your will in the small things. Sweeping a walk, mending a garment, cleaning a counter. Let me approach all as devotion.

Can I do this? Allow your grace to enter my activities?

As I tend my dwelling, as I complete chores — let me open the door to your grace.

Your will in the small things.

(Letter #3,203)