Will the gift come tomorrow, or even later?

This dawn, here and present. I inhabit this moment now, Lord, and only visit tomorrow in fantasy.

Today is the gift for which I wait.

(Letter #3,363)

You sit quietly with me, Lord, and I with you.

No words, quiet breath. Unclenched jaw, relaxing grip.

This is the whole of it: exhale. Ground under feet.

(Letter #3,362)

Wind, rain, storm.

And yet your whispers reach me across the plain, here where I huddle, hunched over a candle.

Am I such a skilled listener that I hear quiet even in tumult?

Or is your quiet voice so strong, Lord?

Your small voice carries even into my secret life, Lord. Let me hear and hear again.

(Letter #3,361)

Am I to help others? Undoubtedly. But to do what?

Let me, Lord, help others themselves to then serve others. A great chain from fellow soul to fellow soul. A domino of peace.

(Letter #3,360)