The foundation is already laid, was placed long before we were here.
The wind whips, grinds down the earth. As I walk, I lean forward and look down to the earth.
A bug on a plate.
The wind and its trials have left me alone with bedrock, Lord, all around me the aftermath. In a bubble of peace, resting on rock.
Bring on the next storm, I say, bring it. Your foundation, the grace of your strength, your infinite forgiveness — all here with me, rooting me to rock.
O the exhilarating calm! Let me do your will with what I have.
(Letter #3,345)
Daily Letters to God 
You must be logged in to post a comment.