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)