Standing on a flat rock, stepping stones across a stream. Paused between, while I consider which way next. Each shifts as I add weight. Where is the solid path?
You are with me, Lord, in this moment between steps. Do I move too fast to hear? If I hear, do I deny the voice?
I slow myself, ostensibly to listen. Then let me indeed listen!
The stream rushes on, whether my feet be wet or no.
(Letter #3,787)
Daily Letters to God 
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