Pray together. Pray privately.

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.

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…

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

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 …

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.

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.

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…

Pray for patience, humour, and hugs that still get accepted.

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.

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

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 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…

Pray for patience and for the long view.

He had a hard week at school — sensory overload on Tuesday, then a misunderstanding with a classmate on Thursday. The teachers are kind but stretched. Pray for one breakthrough this month, and for a steady friend. He doesn't need many. He needs one.

Pray for grounded confidence in who I am.

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…

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.

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…

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…

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…

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.

He had a hard week at school — sensory overload on Tuesday, then a misunderstanding with a classmate on Thursday. The teachers are kind but stretched. Pray for one breakthrough this month, and for a steady friend. He doesn't need many. He needs one.

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.

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'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.

Pray for patience and for the long view.