Some mornings I sit down to pray and realize I have nothing formed yet — only a kind of heaviness, and the dim sense that Someone should know about it.
Lord,
I am here before I have figured out what to say. Before the need has a name. Before I have sorted out what is grief and what is just tiredness, what is genuine concern and what is only my mind doing what my mind does at this hour.
Receive this anyway.
You know what is underneath the not-knowing. You have always been less interested in my polished requests than in my actual self, and my actual self this morning is scattered and a little worn and not entirely sure what it needs.
So I am not asking for anything specific yet. I am only coming. The way you come to a fire in the cold — not with an agenda, just because it is warm and you are not.
Be present to whatever this is.
Amen.