I sought you along these village roads, Lord, and suddenly I realized you had come to me, had been with me for days.

You knew my thoughts, and brought order into my unruly mind.

You knew of my chosen road, and went before me to clear the way.

You knew my trials, and woe, and provided opportunities to heal and rest.

You see me, Lord. You see into me. You see through me.

I am seen.

(Letter #3,474)

Hills sing. Trees beam.

Do I curl in my room on the floor, head covered?

Let me really see what is happening around me, Lord.

(Letter #3,473)

I set out on the day’s march. Where have my neighbors gone? Am I dreaming?

I can tell others have been by as I pass sign after sign.

Around the bend, there they are, with cheer and succor. They were waiting all along.

Lord, you grant solitude before I know I need it. You bring community just in time.

Let me be grateful for the comings and goings of my fellows, Lord.

(Letter #3,472)

Will you stay my mind upon you, Lord? I wander, my thoughts wander.

I am a lone tree on a wind-whipped field. Let me not be bent by the wind but grow toward you.

My will, aligned with you. My heart, with you.

You, with me.

(Letter #3,471)

Sitting in a cool stream, slow soothing water flowing by. My fists unclench and I can relax.

But the power even of this creek! It has dug this channel through which it bubbles. It has smoothed the stones over which it flows. Downstream, this same water rushes through mighty rapids.

Soft and quiet power.

Let me drink it in, Lord.

(Letter #3,470)

Fearful, I await they day.

What will happen? Will I fail? What will they say?

You have prepared the way and removed insurmountable obstacles. Why, then, worry over words?

I am enough. You made me enough.

Let me live thankfully then.

(Letter #3,469)

I was seeking, Lord, and you found me.

Even now, I seek, as if I have forgotten you.

Where did you go? How can I know you again? Will you come back to me?

Knock, you say, and the door will open.

Let me remember, this has happened before.

(Letter #3,468)

That one thing, held tight, that I will never relinquish.

You come, friend, and in the cool morning mist whisper in my ear, give it.

My grasping hand opens. Another treasure, over to your care.

I miss none of what I once had.

What was I guarding so closely?

(Letter #3,467)

Sunward.

Meet me along the way; I will never reach the horizon.

Fill my life abundantly, as the sun never exhausts.

Let me walk sunward, Lord.

(Letter #3,466)

Will I have strength for the day, Lord? Today’s march is daunting.

But what of failure? When have I not met nightfall when it came; when has dawn not arrived and I awakened? I worry over imaginary never-happenings.

As I walk, Lord, grant me grace to know your supply is constant, abundant, overflowing. I need not pace myself and measure out my strength — opportunities for rest will come, new power will come, restoration will come. All when needed.

The day will bring its own strength.

(Letter #3,465)