You ask so little of me, Lord.

To simply keep trying.

For just one more step along the march.

To accept grace, generously bestowed.

Let me ask of others no more than you ask of me. Let me give grace, as I receive it.

(Letter #3,899)

You love my heart when I stand strong and look the world in the eye.

You love my heart when, crushed, I cower in regret.

You love me even in my intemperance.

Am I the rock? Do I sit upon a rock? Are you the rock?

O great permanence, let me appreciate you yet more.

(Letter #3,898)

If I draw a circle, I am in the center. Others draw their own; I am in some and not others.

You have drawn the earth, Lord, containing all yet centering none.

You are the center.

Like a sunflower, let me bend toward you, O Center!

(Letter #3,897)

Are you here with me? I sought and sought — were you already near? Was it I who wandered away?

Let me feel your nearness.

(Letter #3,896)

These are days of sunshine and power.

Do I notice? Notice the growing grass? The breeze? The bright noon?

While we live, let us live.

(Letter #3,805)

The rock holds power — the power to remain still. Water courses around it.

The power to build. When stacked as a foundation, supporting of this whole dwelling.

But what power is this, if others do the work? If obstinacy remains unmoving?

When hurled, does the rock have power?

Let me build today, Lord.

(Letter #3,804)

O unruly mind! The sun shines, the breeze blows, yet my thoughts are frantic. Distracted as I walk.

Grass underfoot; let me feel my feet, feel my breath, feel my skin.

Who could know you would visit me even in such a state? Yet I did not notice.

Let me notice more, Lord.

(Letter #3,803)

Alone in my hut, dim room and quiet.

Outside. the world waits for me.

Birdsong, growing light.

The world waits, impatient for my emergence.

Quickened heart while grace pours in.

The world waits to give its gifts.

How long will it wait?

(Letter #3,802)

You make a way for me through the brush; you pour water down upon me when I thirst.

You have always been there, whether I saw or no.

Standing still, rooted feet, as the breeze blows let me feel you around me.

Always there.

(Letter #3,801)

The channel from me to you is clear yet wide. Who will cross to whom?

You will draw near to me in my need; yet let me first draw near to you, Lord. Let my attitude be my devotion.

Let me not pine for visitors, but go out to my fellows.

(Letter #3,800)