Prayer of the Day

Father, before I ask You for anything, let me thank You.

Thank You for sleep, and for waking from it. Thank You for light at the window, for water, for bread, for coffee going warm in my hands. Small things — but this morning I see them.

Thank You for the people I get to love, even the ones who make it hard. Thank You for work to do and a reason to do it. Thank You for the troubles You've carried me through that I've already forgotten.

Forgive me for how quickly I move past all this, how I treat Your daily gifts like they were owed to me. Give me eyes today that keep noticing.

Let gratitude walk with me out the door — into traffic, into work, into every conversation — so that the people I meet today meet a person who knows they are blessed.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

Lord, it's late, and I'm still awake.

I've counted, breathed, flipped the pillow to the cool side. Sleep isn't coming, and lying here fighting for it is only pushing it further away. So instead of fighting, I'm going to talk to You.

You know why I'm awake. Maybe it's the coffee. Maybe it's the worry. Maybe it's nothing I can name — just a body that won't power down and a mind still pacing the halls.

Whatever it is, I'm through pretending I can fix it by trying harder. Sleep is a gift, not a wage. I can't earn it. I can only receive it. So I open my hands here in the dark.

While I wait, I'll use the quiet. Thank You for this bed. Someone tonight has none. Thank You for this roof, this blanket, this breath. Thank You that the night is not empty — You are in it, wide awake, keeping watch over everyone I love.

I pray for the others awake right now: the new parents, the night-shift workers, the worriers like me, the ones in hospital beds watching the same slow clock. Be near to every one of them.

If sleep comes, thank You — I'll take it gladly. If it doesn't, then stay with me through these strange small hours, and give me grace for tomorrow anyway. You've stretched thin nights over thin days before and somehow made them hold.

Either way, I am not alone in this dark room. That is enough to rest on, even with my eyes open.

In Jesus' name, Amen.