Sunday, August 11, 2019

All the ways that I remain asleep, let me awaken.

Let me feel each fiber of carpet beneath my feet, each stalk of grain brushing my palm. Let me be aware of each passing emotion, each fault, each virtue, each storm, each episode of brief brilliance.

Let me notice the small and ordinary.

Shake me awake, Lord.

(Letter #1,674)

Saturday, August 10, 2019

The creatures of the forest stir and make their rounds. I walk the borders of my home. What traces do I find of the night’s visitors? What needs now repair?

My own steps will later become traces for others to find. What will I place in disarray? What creature’s home will my feet destroy?

Let me walk lightly today, Lord. Let me not grumble at the traces of the night.

(Letter #1,673)

Friday, August 9, 2019

Make me equal to the day. Let me look on it with equanimity. Breathe acceptance into me.

I mistake courage for faith, ecstasy for love. Sever my attachment to myself. Let me see myself through clear eyes.

(Letter #1,672)

Thursday, August 8, 2019

Let me hoard nothing today. Let me abandon myself to your will, with no reservation.

I hold back, I husband my energies and resources, I protect myself. My faith thereby withers and I am a stagnant, murky pool.

Crack me open, Lord. Empty me. Let cool and clear water pass through me into the world.

Grant me the faith be generous.

(Letter #1,671)

Wednesday, August 7, 2019

I remember walking with you. You held my hand, you guided my feet, you sheltered me. You whispered encouragement into my ear.

Where now do I find myself? The winds howl and I do not hear your voice. I run. I hurl my fists, breaking away from you.

Will you quiet me, dear Lord? When I move slowly I can hear and feel you. My feet regain their footing. My hands loose their grasping.

Let me unclench my fists and hold again your outstretched hand.

(Letter #1,670)

Tuesday, August 6, 2019

O! A wasteland grows in my heart. I look out my window see little growing, blinded by my selfish thoughts.

Where is the love I profess? I have built a hard shell and wrap my arms around my knees.

Dear Lord, pry me open. That is no desert. It teems with life. Melt my heart and let me see the world of fellows and friends you have prepared for me.

(Letter #1,669)