A small voice, whispering tender love.
Green shoots grow into an oak grove.
Power, strength, fearfully and wonderfully grown.
Whisper to me strength, Lord.
(Letter #2,897)
A small voice, whispering tender love.
Green shoots grow into an oak grove.
Power, strength, fearfully and wonderfully grown.
Whisper to me strength, Lord.
(Letter #2,897)
A narrowing road, winding along the cliff face. Yesterday’s ease, a broad and flat path, is barely a memory. Today contains turnings, seeming danger even.
Am I not held aloft by your hand? The drop is fearfully long but I am protected.
You bid me walk with greater and greater care, Lord. Did I choose this? Did you?
Let me be equal to today’s task, Lord.
(Letter #2,896)
My heart swells as I approach the river. The smell of water quickens my steps.
Are the banks that different from the meadows I walked through anon? Simply being near the current, is it enough?
Wherefrom this anticipation?
I am witness to power, even where there is no drama.
Lord, let me give thanks for even the slow moving creek.
(Letter #2,895)
I glimpse a corner of you at dawn, and the selfish pieces of me shrivel and wilt.
Remake me, Lord. The loss of what I was before may bring pain, but the sun warms my limbs. I am eager.
Let me walk your way.
(Letter #2,894)
A spark in me, a spark in my neighbor, a spark in my opponent.
You reside in all. How can I bear such good news? It burns away the worry over inconsequential trouble.
Let me tend the sparks in me, in others. Let the warming flames mingle.
(Letter #2893)
Peace is what you offer. Not the calm of placid surroundings, nor the lack of conflict — but the quiet of mind. This is a mountain to climb.
Am I ready for it?
Grant me willingness to be at peace, Lord.
(Letter #2,892)
Lord, you lead me out into a large place, a flat field under bright light. I have anticipated this day with fear.
The crowds I thought would jeer me, where are they? My fellows look on with encouragement. They beckon.
It was never to be a trial, but a homecoming and celebration. I am the prodigal, forgiven and fed.
Lord, let this morning worry burn away like mist.
So long I wandered. I am home.
(Letter #2,891)
I face today’s battle, a warrior at dawn. What do I carry?
Yesterday has burnt to ashes, tomorrow not yet formed. Let them remain as they are.
All I need, then, today, is sword and shield.
(Letter #2,890)
In the quiet, it is so easy to seek you. Nothing presses and the day is yet cool.
When woe befalls, do I seek you then? At noon when judgment is hot?
Grant me cool and clear presence, Lord, that I may turn to you even in the midst of forgetting myself.
(Letter #2,889)
I go from spot to spot. Am I seeking you, or are you driving me toward society?
The seed pushes down roots as it also pushes up a flower into the air. When I see the flower, do I also love what is unseen?
Days alone, in solitude. Invisible work, seen only by you, Lord. Let my life flower due to strong roots.
(Letter #2,888)
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