Sitting, it is easy to feel the ground beneath. Standing, still I sense my soles pressing down.

Walking, running — so easy to forget the earth, even as it bounces against my feet.

Let my roots be strong and quick, Lord.

(Letter #3,799)

I am buoyed as equally as I am tethered to ground. So light I may float; yet also weighted that I may not lose footing.

Let my gait be solid today, Lord, with firm feet. Let my shoulders be broad, my hands nimble, my gaze clear.

The earth presses up just enough to support me.

Thank you, Lord, for this ground and lightness it contains.

(Letter #3,798)

Fill me with wonder, Lord:

At the dawn.

At the unfurling buds.

At the mighty rains.

At grace, undeserved and unlooked-for.

At mercy, unexpected yet sought.

At the ordinary, daily march.

At awakening.

(Letter #3,797)

Leaf by leaf, the book becomes read

Step by step, the journey complete.

Breath by breath, I change.

Night becomes day, only bit by bit.

(Letter #3,796)

You slip between and among us, from one to another, whispering and urging towards light and love. Light feet, silent step.

Let me hear you when you whisper to me, Lord, and walk the way you point.

(Letter #3,795)

Gradually, the garden grows until it is heavy. Yesterday nothing; today bounty.

My journey draws long and longer until its end. Yesterday plodding feet on path; today mountain views.

Lord, am I in the middle or the end? Is the end of one story the middle of a longer one?

Let me keep walking.

(Letter #3,794)

The sun peers over the mountains. What does it see?

A waiting valley, in it a village, in it a dwelling, inside a lone figure looking out the window at the sun.

I pine for you, Lord. Do you gaze upon me with the same love?

Let me leave these rooms and feel the sun, your gaze, on my limbs. I was made for this time.

(Letter #3,793)

You planted me here to grow here.

You bid me wander so I could see your world.

You entangle me that I may learn to overcome snares.

You strengthen me that I may support others.

Every complication, part of a simple plan.

Let me grow here.

(Letter #3,792)

Walking the grounds early morn, the dawn greets me and I it.

At peace inside, I can bring peace to quiet places. Inner health; outer health.

Let the dawn wash over me, I am ready.

(Letter #3,791)

A field of wonder; a meadow of delights.

Yet the inquiry, the fascination, is within. How my feet press the ground! How my breath feels as it slips in and out!

Lord, let me bring wonder and delight to my every move.

(Letter #3,790)