Worry crept in through the night; how shall I seek you when now wracked with dread?

You are here with me even when my heart pounds and my mouth is dry, here holding my hand.

Let me breathe, Lord, and feel you with me.

(Letter #3,433)

Atop this light house I live, tending the workings. I serve the light, the light guides the ships, the ships bring goods, the land and people prosper.

Such a weight on lonely shoulders! If I shirk, it all falls apart.

Or so I think. The ships know their own way, the light I tend is old, a museum, and commerce flows to other ports which feed us.

Grant me grace to let go, Lord.

(Letter #3,432)

In quiet retreat, morning dawn, making ready for the day. This time, this room, these books, this chair are the means by which I walk toward you, Lord.

None of this is needed; you are there even in chaos. The morning peace makes it easier to feel you near.

You have granted me time to prepare, yet one day you may ask me to run before I feel ready. Let me then use this time well.

(Letter #3,431)

Morning chores. They need doing regardless of the news from town.

Town activity. The day flows on, no matter the pasture fences that need repair.

Can I live, Lord, in all the worlds through which I move? Are you with me, with us, in all?

(Letter #3,430)

You built me not to be shut away but to walk in the sun and the rain through your world, telling the others of your peace.

Grace powers me. What are you already doing for me? Let me start there.

(Letter #3,429)

A long road, winding in and out of view, sure obstacles in the path.

Need I worry about the difficulties of tomorrow? How can I be sure the obstacles will still be there when i meet them?

Let tomorrow take care of tomorrow. You are taking care of me here and now, Lord.

(Letter #3,428)

A member of your creation. Yet wracked am I by judgment, of self and others. Are there differences in worth when it comes to your grace? Why, then, do I place some higher and lower in esteem? And why do I place myself on those rungs?

Let me love all and do your will toward all.

(Letter #3,427)

I built a fortress in the clearing; now you call me to leave it and walk the world.

When they chance on this place later, overrun, will they settle here? The ramparts may hold in cattle, the barracks may house families.

The work of war become the work of peace.

Let me abandon myself to you, Lord.

(Letter #3,426)

On what do I rely?

Solid ground underfoot. Light in the morn. A path to walk.

A lone candle before dawn. The thick dark does not extinguish nor diminish it. Can I depend on this light?

I ask and ask, only to learn I already have what I need. You are already with me.

On what, then, shall I rely?

Grace showered upon me.

(Letter #3,425)

Simple.

One thing is needed.

Standing in the meadow, the ground will not wash away in my lifetime, though nearby cliffs may crumble.

Let me act simply today, Lord.

(Letter #3,424)