Sitting, underneath me a cushion. Underneath a chair. Then the floor.

Then: ground.

You press me up, Lord, as strongly as I am pulled down. There is no effort I need spend, to stay firmly grounded.

Let me not take for granted the strength of the ground, Lord.

In your hands.

(Letter #3404)

Padding through your mansion, from chamber to sitting room and back, a meticulous ghost, polishing the banister.

My days of service, do they add up to something?

The caretaker, the keeper of the house, where would they be without?

While I wipe away the dust, let my thought life deepen and let my heart swell with joy.

Thank you, Lord.

(Letter #3403)

Encampment at the base of a waterfall.

The falling water, does it have a start? Is there a story to river current?

No beginning, middle, end.

You are the hidden goal of all my searching, Lord. I go upstream in pursuit of headwaters, never to be reached.

At the waterfall, drop after drop falls like a shower of gifts.

Let me enjoy the current.

(Letter #3402)

Are you training me, testing me, using me?

Am I in battle or on the playing field?

What are the stakes?

Lord, grant me equanimity — let my effort be the same in practice as in performance.

They will be done.

(Letter #3401)

One day, in which to support and care for those around me. You have, drop by drop, filled my reservoirs of strength, and today to call me to rub balm on the wounds of the world.

One day. Is it enough? Am I enough?

Drop by drop, you have made me enough.

(Letter #3400)

I labor and struggle — building a birdhouse. My efforts so painstaking, the results so trivial.

Lord, let my work match your gifts. You shower grace upon me.

What can I build, that the world needs? Guide my hands, Lord, and make the effort worthy.

(Letter #3399)

Seated, in a room, dim light.

Here, there is infinite variety and the possibility of infinite interest. Lo, see the angle of wall and floor, I have never looked so closely.

This time, before dawn. Infinite potential.

Lord, let me laugh at tomorrow, forget yesterday. This moment is infinite, this place is infinite.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #3398)

I come here not to escape but to live. On this cushion, I prepare body and mind for later tumult.

Later, under pressure, do I recall this time? My limbs are strong, is it due to diligent preparation?

Grace flows over me whether I am closeted on my knees or walking the orchards. Thank you, Lord.

(Letter #3397)

This day is unrepeatable. Let me approach it fully awake.

(Letter #3,396)

Could it be that there is no map?

Could the path be so unknown?

Nonetheless, Lord, you equip me and strengthen me as I set out. You hide the way, you hide the goal, and bid me trust. I will be enough, I am already enough, for this journey.

Who needs to know the way, when you are choosing even the choices?

(Letter #3,395)