Pray together. Pray privately.

Three weeks in, we finally got the full story out of him on Sunday night. He had been carrying it alone, which is the part that breaks me the most. We meet with the school on Wednesday. Pray for the right tone — firm without being explosive. Pray for the school to take it seriously. Pray for kind classmates around him…

It was not the year we imagined. We had two job losses, a small loss in the family, and a long stretch where we both just survived next to each other instead of with each other. Pray for the second year. For tenderness to come back. For the small habits — the goodnight, the hand on the shoulder, the laugh at our share…

I keep replaying it. Pray for me to lay it down without dropping the boundary. There is a version of forgiveness that is just self-erasure and I don't want to do that. There is also a version that holds resentment forever and I don't want to do that either. Pray for the middle path.

Seen, even when it is quiet. Held, even when no one knows. May this prayer find you wherever you are sitting tonight, and may it land like a hand on your shoulder.

Pray for sufficiency and for peace.

It's about boundaries — too much overtime and not enough thanks for it. I have been carrying it for months and I am not good at saying the hard thing. Pray for honest words from me and an open mind from him. Pray for both of us not to default to defensiveness.

Pray for one slow weekend.

It was not the year we imagined. We had two job losses, a small loss in the family, and a long stretch where we both just survived next to each other instead of with each other. Pray for the second year. For tenderness to come back. For the small habits — the goodnight, the hand on the shoulder, the laugh at our share…

Seen, even when it is quiet. Held, even when no one knows. May this prayer find you wherever you are sitting tonight, and may it land like a hand on your shoulder.

It has been heavy. Pray for one good morning, then the next.

It was not the year we imagined. We had two job losses, a small loss in the family, and a long stretch where we both just survived next to each other instead of with each other. Pray for the second year. For tenderness to come back. For the small habits — the goodnight, the hand on the shoulder, the laugh at our share…

It was not the year we imagined. We had two job losses, a small loss in the family, and a long stretch where we both just survived next to each other instead of with each other. Pray for the second year. For tenderness to come back. For the small habits — the goodnight, the hand on the shoulder, the laugh at our share…

Three weeks in, we finally got the full story out of him on Sunday night. He had been carrying it alone, which is the part that breaks me the most. We meet with the school on Wednesday. Pray for the right tone — firm without being explosive. Pray for the school to take it seriously. Pray for kind classmates around him…

Pray for patience and for the long view.

It was not the year we imagined. We had two job losses, a small loss in the family, and a long stretch where we both just survived next to each other instead of with each other. Pray for the second year. For tenderness to come back. For the small habits — the goodnight, the hand on the shoulder, the laugh at our share…

Seen, even when it is quiet. Held, even when no one knows. May this prayer find you wherever you are sitting tonight, and may it land like a hand on your shoulder.

We have come through one almost-match and one full match that fell through at the last week. We don't know what to call any of it now — hope, grief, tiredness. All of those at once on most days. Pray for our future child wherever they are tonight. Pray for their first family, whose own story we will never fully know. P…

It was not the year we imagined. We had two job losses, a small loss in the family, and a long stretch where we both just survived next to each other instead of with each other. Pray for the second year. For tenderness to come back. For the small habits — the goodnight, the hand on the shoulder, the laugh at our share…

It's been four years. Some weeks are bearable, some are not. This one has not been. Pray for the appointment with the new specialist on Monday — for fresh eyes and for me to ask the right questions instead of just nodding through it. Pray also for my husband. He carries more than his share without ever saying so.

It still doesn't feel real most mornings. I open my phone to text her about something silly maybe twice a week. Then I remember. Some days I am okay. I work, I cook, I laugh at a thing on the radio. Other days I am ambushed by a song or a smell or someone who looks a little like her from behind, and I have to sit down…

Pray for grounded confidence in who I am.

Pray for the courage to call. The first sentence is the hardest.

May rest find you tonight. May tomorrow be a little gentler.

Pray for one good conversation this week.

Twelve people. I can keep eight. Officially the announcement is next Tuesday. I have known for three weeks and have been carrying it alone, which has not been good for my sleep or my marriage. Three of the four I have to let go are people I respect deeply. One is a single parent. One has a chronic illness in his famil…

She has been with us as a foster placement for fourteen months. Today the judge said the words. We cried in the hallway and a stranger handed us a tissue and didn't ask why. She is three. She has a small bag of things she came with that we have kept exactly the way it was on the day. We will tell her about her first …

Two real options on the table. Both could work. Both have shadows. Pray for clarity rather than certainty — I keep waiting to feel sure, and the feeling isn't coming. Pray for the wisdom to choose with the information I have, and the courage to live with whichever choice.

Seen, even when it is quiet. Held, even when no one knows. May this prayer find you wherever you are sitting tonight, and may it land like a hand on your shoulder.

Two real options on the table. Both could work. Both have shadows. Pray for clarity rather than certainty — I keep waiting to feel sure, and the feeling isn't coming. Pray for the wisdom to choose with the information I have, and the courage to live with whichever choice.