Even weakened, stretched, taught — I am strong with you, Lord.

When the dawn brings too much, I retreat with you and emerge surefooted.

Now, walking the hills, feet like a deer, I scarce recall the worries of yesterday.

You give my feet wings, Lord.

(Letter #3,919)

While I walk these darkened pathways before dawn, I greet the forest creatures ending their nights.

What is it like to live through the night as if it were day?

What is it like to be my neighbor?

All I know is me, this skin.

Let me be me.

(Letter #3,918)

Quiet, breathing. In. Out.

The river flows by; my breath is river too.

Let me breathe in strength, Lord. Let me breathe in peace. In. Out.

The way? I am already on it, even seated, simply breathing by the river.

(Letter #3,917)

In the storm, let me be calm.

In the calm, let me be storm, conveying your power.

Let me be what the day needs, Lord.

(Letter #3,916)

Is improvement my goal? To what end?

Self-perfection blinds me. Self imprisons me.

Let me grow towards you, Lord.

(Letter #3,915)

What am I seeking, Lord?

Peace?

Grace?

Me?

Let my way be your way, Lord, my goal your goal.

Let me seek you.

(Letter #3,914)

Sunlit room, warm cover, gentle breeze on the curtains.

The world awaits, let the comfort here go with me there.

Walk with me, Lord.

(Letter #3,913)

The sun rises behind clouds. Without seeing, I trust it to warm the earth.

Let me have faith in what I do not see, Lord, as I work these fields. The seed will grow and a harvest arrive. But while I sow, I see only effort and furrows.

Tomorrow will dawn brightly. Today let me be comforted by trust.

(Lettter #3,912)

So many paths — through bramble, through forest, through sunlit glades. Here by the mountains, they all lead up.

Which path to take? Is one more virtuous than another? Of what note is the harder way, when there are others more easily trod?

The world is not the world. I bring to it the shadows of yesterday, the hopes for tomorrow. Let me see it clearly, Lord. Today, today, today without story.

(Letter #3,911)

A mound of pebbles.

Together they will make a path from my dwelling to the gate of an orchard.

Can I walk mindfully upon it, attentive to the role of each stone?

Are they less in this world, being simply pebbles? Should that affect my mindfulness?

Lord, grant me compassion even to the earth underfoot.

(Letter #3,910)