Pray together. Pray privately.

My father has been in and out of hospital for six weeks now. Each time we think we are at the corner; each time we are not quite. He is tired, more tired than I have ever seen him. My mother is quietly heroic in a way that breaks my heart. My children are confused. I find myself praying very simple prayers now. Not fo…

Such a tender world. We can do small good things.

We didn't tell them how stretched we are; they wouldn't accept the help if they knew. Pray for sufficiency for everyone. Pray for me to do this without resentment, even on the months when it is hard. They gave us everything they had once.

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.

We didn't tell them how stretched we are; they wouldn't accept the help if they knew. Pray for sufficiency for everyone. Pray for me to do this without resentment, even on the months when it is hard. They gave us everything they had once.

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 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…

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.

We hadn't spoken properly in four years. Long story, dumb story; it started with an argument about our father's money and ended with neither of us willing to be the first to call. I called yesterday. He picked up on the second ring like he had been waiting. We talked for two hours. We cried. We laughed about something…

Hospice last Wednesday. He still has good hours. He told a joke yesterday and we all laughed too hard, the way you do. My mother is sleeping next to him every night. My brother flew in from Sydney; he hadn't seen our father since Christmas and now they are catching up on twenty years in whispered conversations between…

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…

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.

We didn't tell them how stretched we are; they wouldn't accept the help if they knew. Pray for sufficiency for everyone. Pray for me to do this without resentment, even on the months when it is hard. They gave us everything they had once.

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…

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.

Pray for a warm welcome. Nervous in a quiet way.

Pray for sufficiency and for peace.

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 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…

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 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…

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…