For what did you make me?

Am I to carry the robe of royalty, work the fields that provide bread, make the shoes worn by a thief? If I am a cup, Lord, how might I know whose lips will drink from me? Who am I to judge?

I cower behind my ignorance of the future. Standing still, I cannot balance. Let me take the next indicated action, Lord.

Thy will be done.

(Letter #2,073)

Let me seek your will. Let me help others. Let me place my own desires last.

I strive for accomplishment, yet it is all ashes. I am a child building in the sand.

Why think I that you concern yourself with where I place my feet? You call me to love my brothers and sisters, not to win races.

Lord, demolish my faulty values. Reorder my cares. Let me love your world.

(Letter #2,072)

I rejoice in you; you have saved me from calamity.

I rejoice in you; you have showered me with grace.

Lord, let me rejoice in you even when the day is gray and duties call. You walk with me even when I am behind the plow.

(Letter #2,071)

Will you rescue me, or stand by while I struggle? You have said you will never forsake me.

Will you let me stray from your ways? You have said you would order my steps.

Today, tomorrow, Lord: all things are ordained. Let me not worry so over my choices and trials. Even the dead end and box canyon were designed for me alone.

(Letter #2,070)

As I tend this garden plot, my neighbors criticize. Lord, what is the lesson?

Dedication to you?

Openness to the new?

The ability to resist distraction?

Lord, let me learn what you would teach me.

(Letter #2,069)

I hoard: my energy, my ease, my treasure.

I doubt: what if, when needed, supply is lacking, aid does not come?

Lord, you have never forsaken me, why should I fear it now?

Strengthen my faith. Let me hoard less, doubt less.

(Letter #2,068)

This small room is my refuge. Here I am protected. Even under fear and worry – this place is safe. None touch me here.

Lord, let me turn these worries to joy, here in a place of refuge.

There is no need for apprehension while I sit on my cushion. Let me leave it outside the door.

(Letter #2,067)

I was sinking, and you pulled me up.

I was alone, and you befriended me.

I was blind, and you showed me I could open my eyes.

In my life of providence, these trials have faded into mist. Let me not forget your grace. Let me proclaim it.

Others may need hope of its coming.

(Letter #2,066)

Let me not simply be kind, but practice kindness.

Let me be more than humble, but practice humility.

Grant me knowledge of how to behave, Lord, that my doings may embody Love. Let me not rest on intention and warm feeling, but act.

Thy will be done in me.

(Letter #2,065)

Must I wait for deliverance? Must I merit it?

Relief was always here, Lord. I have carried to these burdens for so long I forgot that it was I alone who picked them up.

Lord, thank you for all the miracles of Providence that are there for the asking. Let me ask. Let me accept.

(Letter #2,064)