You are working on your patience, and you fail often, but you return often.

You can't rely on your will.

Yours has to be replaced.

By mine, I have to live there, not you.

It's my patience, my compassion, my love, my abundance, my power.

That's surrender.

Not, father, give me what I want.

Our father, make this work.

I take it all and I give it back to you as I see fit.

But what I need for you to do right now

is trust that I would not give you back something broken. I do not give you sickness. I do not

give you poverty. I took that upon myself so that you would not have to. I was broken so that you would not have to be.

But if you do not claim me, if you do not proclaim me, ignorance abounds, and you stay bound.

In your confusion, you're helpless, hopeless. But that's over. This voice cried out in the wilderness

and you heard it, you hear it, you come back to it, because even though the words it speaks

are not power, where the words come from is, where you're going to, where you stand right now is.

You're not earning it. You're not working your way up to it. You're standing as it. Blink.

You're on. I love you.