I will seek you constantly, even when I will have thought I found you.
How could I have anticipated these gifts you now rain down upon me?
Yea, therefore: I will yet seek. Who knows what may emerge around the next turning?
Thy will be done.
I stand alone in a clearing, sun high, stark.
Is this the training ground, Lord? Will I learn new ways on this spot?
Is this a field of labor? Am I to plow this land?
Or will this, Lord, be a battleground? Are enemy forces even now trickling in and hiding in the trees that surround the meadow?
Grant me willingness, Lord, to rise to any task. You guided my steps and here I stand.
You o’erwatch me, let me make you proud.
A thief in the night, sneaking in unseen and unheard, came this feeling of well-being.
Drip by drip, uncounted and unnoticed, these drops swelled the cistern and now there is water for all.
Lord, you healed me while my attention was elsewhere, the physician distracting the child.
Now well, now with plenty.
All will be healed, yet my neighbors wail on, in trance. How, then, shall I spread this joy?
Nothing is too small for your notice. You see me, even in my meagerness.
I am no beast nor mule, but your child. Yet I spend away the hours in play, sand castles that will wash away, gone even for the crabs.
If I am to make small things, Lord, let me do so with care and attention. Wooden boxes, find enough to carry the jewelry of royalty.
Grant me clear sight and steady hands, Lord.
Unclench my jaw.
Loosen my shoulder.
Relax my belly.
Breathe in, pause, breathe out, pause. Again.
Conflict and tension all around, yet I, your child, breathe easy and free.
Fill me, Lord, an empty body. Animate me that I may overcome self.
Unsuspected resources, deep within, hidden there long ago, a treasure hunt.
Small and needy. Weak, shivering.
You shine upon me and warm my limbs.
There is nothing special about me; my neighbor is shone upon too.
But I, the needy, will soak up the warmth doubly gratefully.
Thy will be done.
You provide without limit; I need but see it.
When I feel depleted, you provide opportunities for rest.
When I feel strong, those who need appear.
Each act of Providence carries obligation. What I have, must I give.
Let me meet the needs of the day, Lord.
I thought there would be a battle, but they laid down their arms and embraced me.
I thought my garden would bear fruit, but rains washed away the seedlings. Now there is a bare plot.
Lord, let me rejoice over it all. Am I not able to beat the dropped sword of my enemy into a spade?
There is work to be done and my back is sturdy. Thank you, Lord, that the sun now shines and there are new friends to help.
Your will for me, Lord, let it be done.
Even as, long ago, I spoke to you of my cares and woes, laying my worries at your feet in desperation, then began you working your grace.
The solutions were set in motion even as I asked!
You are providence, Lord. The crops do not yet grow but the seed rests in the granary. Spring will bring planting and, fall, harvest and bounty.
Thank you for all the overflow that is already on its way.
What new worry am I to lay at your feet today? O Lord, grant me patient acceptance.
My fears are all what-ifs.
This gnawing worry at dawn is concocted of things that may come to be tomorrow. Transfixed, I do not even see the day before me, laid out and full of bounty.
Lord, help me live today, today.