What will I say of this day? That I met it fully? That I was equal to its challenges?

That I entered it as a child, naked and powerless, dependent wholly on you, Lord?

Empty handed, I timidly walk into the dawn. This is the time of trust. You will be with me, Lord. You are already with me.

What I need I will be given. Let this faith grow, Lord.

(Letter #3,768)

The storm comes — even as spring breaks across the land. Are my preparations enough?

Winds may sweep aside even the strongest building. Cliffs crumble into the sea eventually.

Let me learn to live in the winds, Lord.

(Letter #3,767)

New fields I walk through. New pathways I trod.

On the threshold of the day, we sit and confer in murmurs. Which way? Which new way will be ours?

Even after all these years, each day, a new day.

(Letter #3,766)

Walking across a grassy field, a trickling and winding stream. I step over easily.

Lord, here is the power you promised. These drops, collected into a flowing body, later to join a mighty river.

Which drops will support great barges? Which will wear away cliff faces?

They all will. We all will.

I will.

(Letter #3,765)

Lord, my Lord, these troubles, let them be ladders to view higher.

Let this weariness send its messages to my limbs, rest is needed.

Let this fear cleave me closer to you, for you will overcome my lack and insufficiency.

Later, let me rise and walk with energy. Let this time, now, draw it near.

(Letter #3,764)

Let me see the difference between being still, and idleness; industry and activity.

Let me be still — and know that you are near.

Let me have industry — and know you are my guide.

Let my center rest in you, Lord.

(Letter #3,763)

Ready to walk the way you would have me go, Lord.

Ready to say the things you would have me say.

Yet am I ready to do what you would have me do?

Today, under bright skies, Lord, make me ready.

(Letter #3,762)

Like a shoot, my feet walk on new ground.

Your dictates, Lord, still a mystery. Why this way, and not that? Will fresh need be met with fresh supply? Is this path so novel as to be unwritten?

Let me live your plan, Lord, even as new life courses through me.

(Letter #3,761)

Precariously close to the sun, walking the ridgeline, you with me with you.

Yet I fly precariously high.

Tether me, tether my thoughts, tether my motives.

Made to reflect you, Lord, let me remain yet grounded.

(Letter #3,760)

You are always with me; your arms always hold me; I am ever under your grace.

What news? Therefore there can be none. Always peace.

Tides, weather, war, moods — they come and go.

Left behind, a clearing with you, and me. Your will driving mine, whether I see or no.

No news, Lord: only you.

(Letter #3,759)