Before Opening Your Eyes

My son, my daughter, I know the weight that arrives before you even open your eyes. Still in the dark of the room, your mind is already racing through the day's list, through what could go wrong, through the bill that's due. You wake up tired from a day that hasn't even begun.

I never asked you to carry that alone. I asked you to bring every request to me, in prayer, before anything else. Before the phone, before the list, before fear takes shape, talk to me first. I have already been awake far longer than you, tending to details you can't even see yet.

Today, before you get out of bed, take a deep breath and hand me this whole day, from beginning to end. I won't remove the challenges from your path, but I will walk inside each one of them with you.