A late night fire in a clearing; in the morning, ashes and smolder.

In the dawn light, the peering eyes of the forest are pinecones and dewy leaves.

Vision is a power. Light is a power. awakening is a power. Accepting grace — a power.

Let me give freely of what I find, Lord.

(Letter #3,796)

Measured in moments. Each fleeting and forever.

I forget myself and time flies; I fret and time drags.

Lord, let me live this day fully, each forever moment. Let me live awake.

(Letter #3,795)

I expect the sun to rise, the creek to flow, the moon to wax and wane.

I expect the birds to nest, the spider to weave.

The wind to blow and whip.

What constancy, Lord, shall I expect of myself? That I rise with regular habits and dutifully perform my chores? That I am always strong? Such a heavy load.

Is it not enough that I breathe, and feel my feet on the ground?

Let me seek wonder.

(Letter #3,794)

I walk the meadow. I have compassion for the grass underfoot, the creatures that scurry from my footsteps, the upended lives as I walk through spiderwebs.

I meant no wrong.

Lord, grant me compassion for myself, too.

(Letter #3,793)

I am water.

We are water.

Cool, slow, powerful rush, sun warms and we become vapor. Heavy downpour.

Rush around the rocks. Ripples from the pebble.

Thank you, Lord, for water.

Letter #3,792

O sun! O breeze!

Warm air on my skin.

Where could the day take me? Where could my feet take me?

Lord of possibility, grant me a willing walk.

(Letter #3,791)

Am I awake, Lord? Truly awake?

Could I ask if I were not?

Grant me awareness, Lord.

(Letter #3,790)

Restore me, Lord.

To strength.

To wholeness.

To my self.

(Letter #3,789)

A tightened spring, unwinding breath by breath. How did it get this way overnight?

Lord, let my regular pace, and even breathing, and careful balance, and steady gaze, work its wonders.

Pick me up, rigid clay figure, and breathe life and ease into me.

(Letter #3,788)

For the ground to hold me up, there is nothing I need do.

To keep from flying away, there is nothing I need do.

Why struggle so?

(Letter #3,787)