For When the Future Feels Tender and Holy
A Prayer Inspired by Proverbs 8:1–4, 22–31
This week, I limped my way through college orientation with our youngest son, Micah. My body hurt, more than usual. Every step as we walked across campus was a reminder of how much pain I carry with me now. Life has changed so much in the last year.
But then I’d look over and see him: smiling, hopeful, dreaming of his future at IU.
And I knew I’d do it all over again.
Just to be near that kind of joy.
As I reflect on Proverbs 8, I’m reminded that Wisdom isn’t some distant idea.
She’s presence.
She’s delight.
She’s there at the beginning
And here, still, in the sacred middle.
She shows up in the letting go.
In the limping.
In the love that says, “I’ll keep walking with you, even if it costs me something.”
This prayer came from that place.
The ache of love.
The joy of presence.
The holy work of showing up, even when it hurts.
For When the Future Feels Tender and Holy
A Prayer Inspired by Proverbs 8:1–4, 22–31
Holy Wisdom,
You were there before the first sunrise,
Hovering over the chaos,
Before the garden's first breath,
You danced with delight as the world was born.
You are still dancing,
Still calling,
Still forming,
Still whispering your way into our ordinary days.
I heard your voice again this week,
In the laughter of my son,
In the hope written across his face,
In the holy ache of letting go
And showing up
Even when my body groaned in protest.
I don’t have all the strength I wish I did.
I don’t have the words to speak clearly.
But I’m learning:
Wisdom doesn’t always walk with ease.
Wisdom doesn’t always say many words.
Sometimes she limps.
Sometimes she is silent.
Sometimes she cries.
Sometimes she simply stays present,
Where love is.
Where havens are made.
Keep teaching me,
Even through pain,
How to follow your way.
How to listen for your joy.
How to trust that even here,
In the mystery of what’s ahead,
You are already waiting,
With arms open wide for everyone.
Because everyone belongs.
Amen.
Your transparency is so honest.
Thank you.
I’m sorry there is pain but bless you for this reflection filled with joy and wisdom