Where is the power?

Is it the quiet and persistent growth of the oak?

Is it the sunshine, quickening life across the meadow?

Is it my quiet pace, step after step?

Was it in me all along?

Lord, the sun, the path, the procession of days — grant me gratitude for the ingredients of quiet power.

(Letter #3,903)

Let this day, my day, my steps, be simple, Lord.

Great deeds for another day. Intricate complications for another time.

A simple path, even as it turns and winds. One destination.

Let me follow your quiet leading.

(Letter #3,902)

What is it to walk in humility?

Are my eyes downcast, that I miss the sights?

Are my lips sealed, that my voice cannot praise you?

Do I shuffle, and thus slow my approach?

You bid us all walk upright, Lord. Let me rise, walk, erect.

(Letter #3,901)

On the way, on the way.

Let me enjoy the breeze and grasses. Let me sing songs on the way.

This path winds and winds, let me follow it until the end, Lord.

(Letter #3,900)

You ask so little of me, Lord.

To simply keep trying.

For just one more step along the march.

To accept grace, generously bestowed.

Let me ask of others no more than you ask of me. Let me give grace, as I receive it.

(Letter #3,899)

You love my heart when I stand strong and look the world in the eye.

You love my heart when, crushed, I cower in regret.

You love me even in my intemperance.

Am I the rock? Do I sit upon a rock? Are you the rock?

O great permanence, let me appreciate you yet more.

(Letter #3,898)

If I draw a circle, I am in the center. Others draw their own; I am in some and not others.

You have drawn the earth, Lord, containing all yet centering none.

You are the center.

Like a sunflower, let me bend toward you, O Center!

(Letter #3,897)

Are you here with me? I sought and sought — were you already near? Was it I who wandered away?

Let me feel your nearness.

(Letter #3,896)

These are days of sunshine and power.

Do I notice? Notice the growing grass? The breeze? The bright noon?

While we live, let us live.

(Letter #3,805)

The rock holds power — the power to remain still. Water courses around it.

The power to build. When stacked as a foundation, supporting of this whole dwelling.

But what power is this, if others do the work? If obstinacy remains unmoving?

When hurled, does the rock have power?

Let me build today, Lord.

(Letter #3,804)