I am the one who would stay still — you deliver me full days and myriad obligations.

I am the one who would churn like a dynamo — you deliver me bed rest.

I am the one who would fear the crowd — you place me at the podium to address the gathered.

The lesson, always different for a different me, always the harder path.

(Letter #3,789)

Inside this dark room, in my dawn-quiet dwelling, a lit candle. Pitch black, then the flame.

No matter how dark, the candle illuminates.

Is all lost? Can I yet become a candle for my fellows?

Light me, Lord, that I may brighten the way even through the gloom.

(Letter #3,788)

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)

Always on this plain, do I find myself. Windswept grass, trickling creek, distant forest. Some mornings it is a garden; some a battlefield. Some, an oasis.

Lord, let me unclench my jaw and breathe in the morning. Same place; different me.

Inhale. Pause. Exhale. Let go.

(Letter #3,786)

I am a Self walking through this meadow.

Self makes me peer into the distance for threats, to hesitate at every turning.

Self makes me fear fellow walkers: do they judge me?

Fear churns at me and makes me forget you, Lord.

You are with me.

Let me forget Self, Lord, that I may remember you.

(Letter #3,785)

Free my heart, let me have loving kindness for the beings around me.

Free my feet, that they may walk a new path.

Free my hands, to do fresh good works.

Let me not scan the horizon for clouds, but tend to the garden before me while the skies are clear.

Free me, away from tomorrow and into this moment, dear Lord.

(Letter #3,784)

I will draw near to you; will you draw near to me?

I will resist distraction; will you focus me?

I will dedicate myself to industry; will you provide motive force?

Will I find encouragement?

Draw near to me, Lord, when I am so alone.

(Letter #3,783)

Bright sun, a gentle dawn. The garden calls, with its need for tending and care.

Am I your garden, Lord, needy and beautiful?

Prune and cut back where you will, Lord, and ready me for growth.

(Letter #3,782)

I wander, and wander. Root me, Lord.

When I wander, away from my rootedness, bring me back.

Again, and again, returning to where I started, where you have rooted me.

Breath, stance, root.

Bring me back.

(Letter #3,781)

All is well.

The wind whips up from the valley, pressing me back from cliff side. Elation at the overlook.

All is well.

Gentle breeze cools me by the summer stream. Peace in the meadow.

All is well.

Thunder crack and gale, upending all not tied down. Start again from clean slate.

The wind says: all is well.

(Letter #3,780)