Creator of that first night,
we are grateful for days
which taught us grace,
for ordinary kindnesses we missed
as they slipped past us,
for people who moved in and out
of our lives changing us in so many ways.
On this night,
our pockets are full of moments—
some rubbed smooth by love
others still sharp with bitterness,
so as this year begins to slip
quietly and gently into your hands,
we offer you all we didn’t finish,
everything we could not fix,
and forgive all that (including people)
we thought did not matter.
Companion of our dust
as well as our hope,
you walked with us this year—
down hospital corridors and
to tables of celebration,
through those moments of staggering grief
and the grace-filled folk who saved us.
Gather us up,
those weary of always being brave,
those who have forgotten how to love,
those whose hands are clenched in fear,
and carry us into the new year.
Breath of life which moves over
whatever comes in the next months,
shelter with us in this thin time
between what was and what will be.
Fear knows our names all too well,
so fill us with courage to move forward,
where we are comfortable settling for less,
stir our imagination to grasp your wonder,
when we try to plan our way on our own,
nudge us toward your grace which
longs to be our guide.
Trusting, hoping, daring
that you are not finished with us,
God in Community, Holy in One,
hold this turning of time
as you have always held us—
with patience,
with grace,
with compassion,
with your love which makes
all things new, even time. Amen.
© 2025 Thom M. Shuman
Venmo: @Thom-Shuman
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