The real me, the real you. Hidden away in this place. An open field, where all approaches can be seen clearly.

Those who disturb us, I saw them coming from far away, and I did nothing. Yea, I waved them over to us.

Grant me groundedness, Lord. Grant me peace, let me not rob myself of it.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #3,905)

Underfoot, the ground presses up.

I am supported. We all are supported.

Eager am I, to spread the good news.

Thank you, Lord.

(Letter #3,904)

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)