Who leads whom?

Do the geese bring spring with them, or do the warming days bring the geese?

Let my will be your will today, Lord. Let your will be mine.

(Letter #3,454)

I sit by a candle, protected in a corner of this small room.

Without, the winds howl.

The candle scarcely flickers. Dawn.

Travelers at the door; visits and activity. Laughter. Some who come bring calamity and woe. Peace disturbed. Yet the candle welcomes. Yet I welcome.

I am the striker of matches, keeper of friendly flame. Grant me good cheer, Lord.

(Letter #3,453)

Am I, my life, a beacon? Shining forth to be seen and found?

Or a lantern to shine into darkened spaces, and bring to light the hidden?

O Lord, make me what the world needs.

(Letter #3,452)

As within — so without.

My ambitions, let us speak of them together, Lord. Are my aims your aims? Will you turn my thoughts in the right direction?

Let your will be my will, Lord.

(Letter #3,451)

Walking, my journey is the sum of my steps. One by one.

Stacking wood, the pile grows log by log.

Building a wall, stone by stone.

Lord, let me place with care each footfall. Grant me awareness, one by one.

(Letter #3,450)

The wind. It blows — from where? To where?

You go before me, Lord, to prepare the way. You are with me, too, holding my hand in support.

You follow, guarding the rear.

From where? To where?

Lord, let me feel your gentle squeeze in my right palm. This is all that matters.

(Letter #3,449)

All is well. All will be well.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

All is already well.

You have already granted me wherewithal to overcome, surplus to share, treasure to bestow.

Let me live this reality, Lord.

(Letter #3,448)

Overnight, the fire became an ember, hidden in ash.

My heart cooled, now must I warm to the day. Deep breathing, prayers and devotion.

The ember glows, with care the flame returns.

Let me take warmth with me, Lord.

(Letter #3,447)

Sitting in the dawn, in silence, voice after voice comes to me. Which to follow? Which is yours?

The loud sounds distract.

The softest voice, that murmurs the way, is the hardest to follow.

Peace, grace, humility.

Let me quietly, slowly pick my way, your way, Lord.

(Letter #3,446)

What supports do I need?

A stick to lean on as I walk? A mule to pull a cart? An extra cloak?

A day exactly as long as I can bear, and no more?

The wealth you give, Lord, it comes in so many forms. Let me want what I have.

(Letter #3,445)