I will meet you, in the open field, bug the creek, where we stop and stand together. The sun will shine down upon us, you will murmur encouragement in my ear.

The sunshine is you. The sweet, warm wind is you. The trickling stream by which we embrace in fellowship — you.

You are present to me, I am present to you.

Nothing can harm us.

(Letter #3748)

Do I fear who I am, deep inside? Yet I am who you made me to be — how can this be a mistake?

When I speak, let my voice ring. When I labor, let my limbs be strong. When I walk, let my steps carry me far.

As I roam these lands, let me listen inside for your voice, planted inside me. You live in me, Lord, let me embrace the power you already have instilled.

(Letter #3747)

Morning walk in the meadow. Mist and cool, still air. If in earlier days there were a battle here, no trace remains.

Did the victors feel the same air, as they strode across the field? Was the ground littered with chaos?

I walk and reflect on coming days. There may be battle. There may, too, be compassion and surrender. Am I the one to decide?

Lord, let me drink in this time between. Breathe in. Pause. Breathe out.

Pause.

(Letter #3,746)

Let me walk under warm skies, Lord, thankful for the ground underfoot, the sun overhead, all between. Loosen my grip, my jaw, my hands. Bring ease to my gait.

What I let go, I will yet receive.

(Letter #3,745)

A journey of many steps to a high lookout. Each step equal to its brother — no one footfall makes the difference. The result, a glorious view.

Let me be a neighbor among neighbors, a worker among workers. Let me do my part.

Let my work be worthy.

(Letter #3,744)

The moon, waxing and waning, hovers over the field.

The messages from you, for which I pine, are sometimes clear, sometimes obscure, sometimes in riddle.

The half moon still lights the night. Not all moons are full. Even diminished they spur wonder.

Let me hear even the half messages, the obscured messages. Let me be grateful for even the new moon, invisibly dark.

(Letter #3,743)

Who has gone ahead to clear the path of debris and brush? Can I even know of all who have come before, the generations of feet whose steps have flattened this walkway?

I make my way with ease. Can I be thankful even for this? I did not notice the lack of barrier, I simply moved.

Make me aware, Lord. Awaken me to the gifts overflowing upon me.

(Letter #3,742)

Made and remade again.

In anguish, I called out, and you came, lo these many years.

Today my trials are slower and woes lighter. Yet still I am needy. And still you come.

How long, back then, before I noticed you healing me? How long, now, before I see your power again?

You have never forsaken me.

(Letter #3,741)

Plans and designs. They fill my thoughts as I walk from my simple bed to my seat. Noon rush already intrudes and it is barely dawn.

Let me devote myself to you, Lord. Stay my mind on you, it is so unruly. I am living tomorrow in today’s world and it leaves me bereft.

Day, hour, moment. Let me divide the day smaller and smaller until I can live close to you. In this moment, let me do your will. And then again.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #3,740)