You are with me, Lord, and you give me rest.

Like the wanderers in the desert, Lord, yes, you are with me.

To whom do I give rest? To whom do I offer grace?

Let me pass on what I receive, Lord.

(Letter #3,936)

On what do I depend?

The air I breathe? The rains that wash the day clean?

The solid ground on which I sit?

All of it, Lord, is of you, from you, by you.

You, Lord.

On you will I depend.

(Letter #3,935)

Hidden, my tender heart beats. Uncover it and see — how fragile and exposed. A baby bird in the morning light.

How could this weak and tiny creature fly? Who could see the eagle under the wet feathers?

Lord, nurture my tender heart. Let me have grace, while it is yet so small.

(Letter #3,934)

What use these wings, Lord, if I do not spread them into the updraft? What use these legs, if I do not walk?

Let me press on, as those who came before did. Let me live my purpose.

(Letter #3,933)