While the sun rises, shadows yet are cast and loom large. They will shorten, but for now the view makes me as fearful as gathering night.

Be my refuge, Lord, holding my right hand as we walk. What if today were to become a shower of gifts? I could not know, as I cower in my room.

Let me walk with you, Lord, and feel your grace.

(Letter #3,970)

Morning, dawn, birds call.

Let them come to me; I need not run after them.

Let me draw slowly near to you, Lord. If I only open myself, if I only try, you draw near to me in return.

Let me not run after banners.

(Letter #3,969)

Do not hide the way, O Lord!

I meet you at the fork. It is difficult enough to choose from the paths I see. Is one secret?

Make my choices plain, Lord.

(Letter #3,968)

Can I live this day without grasping?

Grasping for solace, grasping for relief, grasping for ease.

I pin my hopes on grace, on renewed resources, on intercession — what if these do not come as and when I wish?

The sun will rise on easy days and hard. Dawn comes.

Let me give thanks for dawn.

(Letter #3,967)

A pause of rest between chores.

A pause between moments of joy.

Which am I in?

Is there a difference?

Let me recognize joy when it visits me, Lord.

(Letter #3,966)

All is well.

This dawn, this morning, this is the message.

All is already well, if only I will say yes.

Thank you, Lord.

Yes.

(Letter #3,965)

Will you guide me, Lord? Let me wait before you, at every juncture, until I see the way clearly.

In stillness, in waiting, let me see this as guidance too.

Guide me, Lord.

(Letter #3,964)

If I awaken trembling in fear, does this mean I am afflicted? Is worry the same as calamity?

Lord, let my fear be extinguished. Let me see it for the mist it is — unreal and insubstantial.

You will be with me; you will provide.

Today there is no woe. Let me be willing to see.

(Letter #3,963)

I endured yesterday, is not today now the gift? And yet I awaken with teeth gnashing.

Grant me fresh eyes to see around me, all that is already blooming and multiplying.

Undeserved grace.

(Letter #3,962)

I wait silently before you, Lord. Will you speak to me? Give a sign or direction?

The silence is its own message: stay on path. This is the way, that you are already on, my child.

Sitting silently, awaiting you. What more could be asked?

All is well.

(Letter #3,961)