Kitchen Table Wisdom

Holy One,
You see the parents who wake before dawn,
shouldering more than they ever meant to carry.
You know the ones who pack lunches, wipe tears,
pay bills, fold laundry, and whisper to themselves,
“I hope I’m doing enough.”

Gather them close.

For the ones who feel like they are raising children
with hands that tremble from exhaustion—
steady them.

For the ones who wonder if they are failing—
remind them that love is never failure.

For the ones who feel cut off from family,
from community,
from the life they once imagined—
open a path back to belonging.

Send them people who show up with small mercies:
a neighbor who watches the kids for an hour,
a friend who listens without fixing,
a grandparent who stirs soup on the stove,
an uncle who teaches a child to cast a line.

Let them discover, maybe for the first time,
maybe all over again,
that a village is not out of reach—
it is something we are made for,
even when it feels far away.

And when they cannot see it,
when loneliness fogs the edges of their hope,
place someone on their path
who will remind them that they do not walk alone.

Gather their courage.
Restore their joy.
Strengthen their weary hearts.
And surround them with a community
that helps them raise their children
with tenderness, wisdom, and grace.

Amen.