The dawn breaks, the bright sun beams.

Is this what I was waiting for? How contingent, then, is my joy.

Can my joy be independent of events, laughing even in the rain?

Inhabit me, Lord.

(Letter #3,932)

When the rains come and I grumble, when the garden is overgrown with weeds that I must pull, and I am frustrated, when my neighbor speaks ill and sparks my ire — unclench my jaw, dear Lord.

The day may contain trial, yet even the harshest trouble lasts but moments. While I walk on this path, let my gate be relaxed.

Breathe in, breathe out. Let me walk gently today, and battle nothing.

(Letter #3,931)

Days past, I was so frightened even of my shadow, I would delay walking out my door simply to gather wood.

Those days have slipped away bit by bit. Today I walk upright and even in the gloomiest morn I do not hesitate to open the door to the world.

Each day of growth feels impossible until it arrives.

Your grace, your peace, your patient love, have strengthened me.

In days long in the future, let me look at this moment and wonder about how far I will have come.

Thank you, Lord.

(Letter #3,930)

What need, Lord, of strength when you are present? When I have sought to draw near to you?

Close to you, cool water flows sweetly, refreshing breeze lifts, friendly sun beams. The field to plow, the garden plot to tend, the porch to sweep — all fade into minutiae.

Close to you, Lord, I have infinite energy.

Let me seek to be close to you.

(Letter #3,929)