Alone, to where could I now flee? I am face to face with who I am.

Crushed under weight, mulish in my obstinacy, how can I bear it?

Let me call out to you. Rescue me from my burdens.

Rescue me from my self.

Bring me face to face with your grace.

(Letter #3,951)

The dawn re-forms each morning; after having been dispelled by noon. The sun scorches the land; it all must be restored overnight.

Each morning, I gather myself together like mist and hope it adds up to something.

Lord, grant me substance.

Strengthen my frame, later, in the bright sunlight.

(Letter #3,950)

Alone, alone in the morn. Alone before the looming day.

How could I not be grateful for all you have given, all you have taken? I am a bare bulb, shining into the dark.

Bright as you made me, the sun will o’erpower me before the day’s chores are even begun.

The shadows disappear and I can see.

How could I not be grateful?

(Letter #3,949)

This trouble from which I run — you made it for me.

The mire from which I seek to rise — made by you.

How will you rescue me? Let me trust that it will come.

Grant me eyes to see, Lord, your hand in even that which I would flee.

(Letter #3,948)

You knock, yet do I allow you in, Lord?

Alone and worrying, i scarcely notice you at the door.

Open my eyes and make me aware, dear Lord. Rescue is nigh. Give me ears to hear, eyes to see.

(Letter #3,947)

Drop by drop, the space between each footfall accumulates into a reservoir.

Let me attend to the ways I get from here to there, that even my in between movements are made with care.

The goal is not the goal. The way is the goal.

(Letter #3,946)

This safe haven, this refuge — from what are these quiet rooms an escape?

Why do I need retreat? Your grace rains down on me wherever I am.

Let me set aside what I never needed, Lord, thankful for the constant power you provide.

(Letter #3,945)

The indescribable peace of being home.

The candle in the window.

The warmth of the hearth.

Let me be home, Lord.

(Letter #3,944)

In the dawn, I heard your whisper, Lord. All is well, all is well.

A child, I cling to your reassurance.

I have been working hard to earn your praise; little did I recall that your grace pours out over all of us. You do not love me more if my rooms are tidy and my walkway swept.

All is well, all is well.

Let me remember.

(Letter #3,943)

Who knows what turns this path will contain, but the day will end in sunset. Tomorrow will begin as today did: with a dawn.

Let me then, Lord, walk with care and take in the moment. This time between dawn and dusk is all I have of this day. This present moment.

(Letter #3,942)