Dear God, come to me. Seep into my roots and flow through me. Nourish me in secret.

Take away my desire to preen and posture. Let me be plain, without decoration.

Let me work my life into a thing of usefulness. A flat table, a sturdy chair.

The last shall be first.

(Letter #1,553)

Dear God, the life of the beacon weighs on my shoulders. I live apart, dwelling with you, and in the small hours of morning I feel lonely. I am fearful for those who would founder were my light to dim.

Lord, let me see rightly. I am not alone nor have I ever been. Fellows stand ready to help were I but to ask.

Others will carry my load when it is needful. Let me give adequate thanks to you and to them.

Not one of us is alone. Wherefore, then, should I feel so?

(Letter #1,552)

Dear God, I seek your solace and warmth, yet I myself bar the door when you knock. I profess that I have willingness – but I am not obedient when your instructions are not to my liking.

You test me, Lord. Let me be obedient.

(Letter #1,551)

Dear God, I arise depleted and weary at the thought of my duties. How will I meet the tasks I have been set?

I mouth the words that seek strength, yet in my heart I pray for escape. Change my thinking, Lord. Let me live acceptance.

(Letter #1,550)

Dear God, let me work with a glad heart today. Let every effort be a prayer.

(Letter #1,549)

Dear God, buried in my heart, there you are. My treasure, my secret. The raw wind blows, yet my chest is warm, glowing.

Glowing souls, some of us come together and share the warmth. What cheer! Others walk, lonely, their solitary heat fading.

I give up nothing to join my sisters and brothers, yet still I walk single, creating the conditions of my own trial and woe. I shiver, but need not.

Cold, I wrap my arms tightly around my chest. But look at all these friends nearby! I mulishly ignore their glowing warmth, tending to my own tiny flame with misplaced pride.

Let me, Lord, enter others’ circles. This warmth improves the land as we share it.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #1,548)

Dear God, what shall I sacrifice today? What of value would you have me relinquish?

I may easily abandon rusting piles of treasure, and easy words of kindness may flow like water from my mouth — all without cost. How, Lord, shall I dig deeper? What shall I give up to you, to others, to all?

Shall I sacrifice a posture of gratitude to you? This might mean giving thanks for every experience, even those that diminish and vex me. This might mean, above all, depleting my own precious hoard of time.

Let me give of my today, dear Lord. Let me give the things whose loss I will truly feel. Let me give thanks for the loss and pain — for it may make me more compassionate towards my fellows and hence more fit to be your instrument.

O! Make me ready to shun comfort on today’s march. I can carry more; let me pick up these burdens.

(Letter #1,547)