I do not ask for a path cleared of stones, for I have learned that it is the roughness of the rock that shapes the soles of the wanderer. Today, I take the obstacles, those heavy, silent things, and I turn them over in my hands with gratitude. They are the masonry of my journey; without them, I would have no floor to stand upon.

May I not be a prisoner to the “me” and the “mine.” Let my hands be busy with the welfare of my neighbor, weaving a blanket that warms more than just my own shoulders. I seek the best for others, for in their blooming, I find my own harvest.

Grant me, Lord, the peasant’s wisdom: the quiet strength to trust in the soil of the unknown, even before the sprout appears. I wish to walk into the mist of mysteries with a courageous heart, not demanding answers, but embracing the shadows.

Let my eyes be clear enough to see the revelation hiding in a cup of water, in the greeting of a stranger, or in the tilt of the afternoon sun. May I find the sacred in the calloused hand and the common bread.

May my heart stay wide as an open door, and my spirit as free as the wind over the scrubland. I choose the narrow path of humility, where pride cannot breathe and selfish hungers fall away like dry leaves.

I remain thankful, not for the grand trophies, but for the grace to keep walking, always seeking the light, forever guided by a love that asks for nothing in return.

©️ Beatriz Esmer