The nearby cave, the towering oak and its shade, the fallen log on which to rest, the overhang along the mountain path. All shelter, safety, respite, provided on the way.

And yet I feel exposed. Is not the error mine? Safety is all around, shelter is all around.

Rescue, even, all around.

Let me crawl into your welcoming arms, Lord, and cease wondering from whence my saving will come. You have always been here for me, I needed but see.

All is well.

(Letter #3,920)

Even weakened, stretched, taught — I am strong with you, Lord.

When the dawn brings too much, I retreat with you and emerge surefooted.

Now, walking the hills, feet like a deer, I scarce recall the worries of yesterday.

You give my feet wings, Lord.

(Letter #3,919)

While I walk these darkened pathways before dawn, I greet the forest creatures ending their nights.

What is it like to live through the night as if it were day?

What is it like to be my neighbor?

All I know is me, this skin.

Let me be me.

(Letter #3,918)

Quiet, breathing. In. Out.

The river flows by; my breath is river too.

Let me breathe in strength, Lord. Let me breathe in peace. In. Out.

The way? I am already on it, even seated, simply breathing by the river.

(Letter #3,917)

In the storm, let me be calm.

In the calm, let me be storm, conveying your power.

Let me be what the day needs, Lord.

(Letter #3,916)

Is improvement my goal? To what end?

Self-perfection blinds me. Self imprisons me.

Let me grow towards you, Lord.

(Letter #3,915)

What am I seeking, Lord?

Peace?

Grace?

Me?

Let my way be your way, Lord, my goal your goal.

Let me seek you.

(Letter #3,914)