Is this the right path? I see no others along it. Did I go astray?

Is my appointed road, Lord, a solitary one?

But lo! You are with me. Can I ever then be alone?

Alone but not lonely, let me walk.

(Letter #3,443)

Am I the fine table fashioned by the maker?

Am I the tool that will allow the making of other tables?

Today, do I set myself aside for later work, or do the needy gather ‘round me? How fine, how sharp, must I be?

Let me be just enough, Lord.

(Letter #3,442)

There is no later moment — I always experience the present.

There is no distant land — I always experience where my body is.

While I am here, Lord, let me feel you here with me.

As I go, Lord, you are with me. Let me, then, cease my worry.

Grant me awareness.

(Letter #3,441)

Walking a path — all depends on this step. Set right, the next and next go on. Set carelessly, and a turned ankle will halt all progress.

This single step, let me bring a full day’s attention to it, Lord. And then to the next.

And the next.

(Letter #3,440)

A tangled knot of yarn do I untie. I work with such care, all I see is what is in my hands.

Yet I sit in a room, with a window, in a handsome dwelling, by an alpine meadow, with dawn breaking through in glorious fashion.

I look up and lo! Awareness and beauty.

What depends upon this painstaking, small task? Shall I drop it and drink in the lakeside?

What else shall I drop, Lord?

(Letter #3,439)

Listen to the wind sing through the lines while we huddle below.

Even tied down, our stores may be swept away.

Later, becalmed, without provisions — will we lose hope? Will we recall this storm and wish we had taken different action?

Will we realize that only an empty cup can be filled, and thank you for tonight’s wind?

Infinite grace, day after day, inexhaustible and ever renewing.

Let the lines sing.

(Letter #3,438)

I have learned.

Learned to rise from defeat.

Learned to accept unmerited grace.

Learned that buds emerge from a charred stump; families of foxes thrive under abandoned machinery.

Learned that while one night may bring woe; joy comes another morning.

Lord, thank you for the lessons you teach, with such a gentle hand.

(Letter #3,437)

You shower gift after gift upon me while I ask and ask again for yet more. Do you never tire of my neediness? Or pleased are you by my dependence?

You have never abandoned me, O Lord. Let my gratitude be pure.

(Letter #3,436)

How many moments in the day? How many times need I renew trust in you, Lord?

You are the power that causes roots to grow inexorably, breaking stone paths to rubble. You are the locomotive driving the heavy train to market. You are the wind at my back, ever pressing this fallen leaf forward as my feet falter.

I distract myself; I lose the thread; I wander. Each moment a chance to regain the path, to seek again your will.

Thank you for inexhaustible grace, Lord.

(Letter #3,435)

I awoke, ready for worry — yet it did not come.

I was ready for calamity — and peace instead held sway.

I marshaled resources for battle — none attacked.

Could it be, Lord, that you want nothing for me but joy and ease?

Let me adjust my outlook to the world around me, true grace.

(Letter #3,434)