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)

I labor; is it to build my own home or fence? Am I the only one to eat from my small garden plot?

Or shall I build benches along the road for all to use in rest? A well for the town? An alpine shelter for weary mountain explorers?

Shall I throw open my orchard for all to pick fruit?

Such a meager life if only I benefit.

Let me work for others, Lord.

(Letter #3,464)

A reservoir, filled by many trickling streams. On no single inlet does my thirst depend.

You supply me in so many ways, Lord. Open door after open door, why do I worry about one closing?

Only in self sufficiency do I encounter lack. Let me rightly depend on you, Lord.

(Letter #3,463)