Morning Prayer for a Pandemic People
Creator of all things,
Creator of this new day, I rise in a fog of pandemic uncertainty, fear, and grief. It takes longer for my eyes to adjust each day to the newness you offer. It takes longer for my mind to begin considering the tasks and conversations that must happen to keep this world I know moving - and yet, you give me this new day. I feel the weight of the responsibility and lack the ability to carry it. I feel the hurt and pain of so many and lack the ability to comfort them. It is a slog - a daily pandemic slog.
While I don’t feel like I am or can give my usual all right now, I know that you still give your all - you gave your all. Your love is not dependent on my effort or ability and for this Lord, I am grateful. And while I know this in my mind, while I am promised this in my baptism, on this day, I pray, help me feel this truth in my heart.
You have not abandoned me or this world despite what it feels like when I read the news or look at social media. Make this truth known. That you bend closer. You hug tighter. You love deeper.
Wash over me this day in a way that I cannot miss or ignore the reality of your love for me.
Surround me this morning and throughout this day.
Show me your presence in real and palpable ways.
Guide me in my conversations and work to honor you. To reveal you.
Comfort me in ways that help me go easy on myself and others.
Others Lord.
I know that I am not alone. I know that the whole world cries out to you right now and you have not abandoned us. You will not abandon us.
May the words of my mouth, as I talk to my children and my partner, as I meet with others through a tiny screen again and again, and as I work to keep my own momentum, Lord, may my words be kind. May I remember that my neighbors feel the slog with me. May I offer your grace. May I witness to your hope. May I be a quilt of your comfort for them.
God of healing, these are the meditations of my heart this morning. Hear me of God, I pray.
Amen.
I wrote this prayer on October 7th, 2020.