Day upon day, event upon event, the moments slip away. The future rushes, the past recedes. Now is crushed by tomorrow and undermined by yesterday.

Let me use this day as you have planned, Lord. Let me inhabit this moment, seeking only to do your will.

Let me exhale, unclench, and set to work.

(Letter #3,202)

The world divides between the things I can do unaided, and that which I cannot. So confident am I in my ability, so sure of my occasional insufficiency.

Bewildered, I pick and choose when to call out for help.

Lord, in even the simple tasks in the garden, let me pray for help to do your will.

(Letter #3,201)

Can I help others without drawing attention?

Can I improve conditions without seeking credit?

Let me look back on the day, Lord, unashamed.

Let all thrive whom I encounter.

(Letter #3,200)

Dawn comes, I am expectant at the dew. Night falls, I worry over the rustle I hear at the edge of camp. Repeat, repeat.

My mood, so changeable — does the dawn cause my elation, dusk my woe? Or is the engine of caprice within?

You are there before the mountains, Lord, and after they crumble to dust and the sea sweeps them away. My inner life, a small piece of a small piece of time. Let my moods get lost and swept away by your scope.

(Letter #3,199)

My failures yesterday, do they get dragged with me through the night and into dawn? Do I awaken with yesterday’s woe?

Or is each morning new? Each moment a potential rebirth of the day?

Lord, let me wash clean my worried mind, for the present is all around me.

(Letter #3,198)

Walking up a winding road, narrower and narrower — here are you with me.

Ambling through meadows — here, too, are you with me.

You told me, you will not forsake me. Now, on a treacherous knife-edge ridgeline — are you with me?

Your promises, let me have faith in your promises.

(Letter #3,197)

Do I dangle from a limb, arms tense and worried over the fall?

Am I supported from below, the ground pressing up equal to my weight, able to relax at ease?

How do I discern the one from the other, Lord, when in neither case am I in motion?

Let me trust in the sturdy ground, Lord. Even if I let go, you are there for me.

(Letter #3,196)

There is a broad way, leading to stairs, and to an observation point with vistas and a bench to rest.

Still on the road, I think about all the tasks before me, the stairs, and how I will negotiate them. I am prepared.

Yet still may I slip even before I begin to climb. The broad road holds its own dangers, though it be flat and smooth. I so readily set out on my own way.

Let me depend upon you even in the face of easy work, Lord.

(Letter #3,195)

A fawn curled in a hollow, sun hits and legs stretch. Vast woods await. No thought of tomorrow.

Can I have soothing assurance, calm faith, like this fawn? Let me live rightly, see rightly, act rightly.

Where shall we go today, Lord?

(Letter #3,194)

These stirrings within, these nagging worries. What do they tell me? That more care is needed? That change is coming? That new heights await?

Let me walk this, your path, Lord, even with a drumming heart. Hold my hand as we walk.

(Letter #3,193)