Dear Universe,
I'll be honest with you.
The future scares me.
Not in a dramatic way,
Not always.
Sometimes it's just this low hum underneath everything.
This quiet unease that follows me into ordinary moments.
Into mornings that should feel fine and into nights that go on a little too long.
I don't know what's coming.
And most days I can make peace with that.
Today.
Today the not knowing feels heavy.
What if things don't work out?
What if I make the wrong choice,
Take the wrong turn,
Miss the thing I was supposed to find?
What if the life I'm hoping for stays just out of reach?
I know how this sounds,
And I know that worry has never once built anything worth having.
But I also know that telling myself not to be afraid has never actually made me less afraid.
So instead,
I'm bringing the fear here.
Setting it down in front of you.
Not asking you to take it away.
But asking you to sit with me in it for a moment.
Because I don't want to keep carrying this alone.
Help me to remember that you have walked me into every chapter of my life.
Including the ones I dreaded.
Including the ones I was sure I wouldn't survive.
And somehow I did.
Somehow,
There was always a next moment,
A next breath.
The next day that surprised me.
So let me borrow from that history when my faith runs thin.
Teach me the difference between preparing and catastrophizing.
Between being wise about the future and being held hostage by it.
Help me to plan where I can,
Release where I cannot.
And trust that I will have what I need,
When I actually need it,
Not before.
Because I've been trying to live in a future that hasn't happened yet.
Bracing for pain that may never come.
Grieving losses that are still only stories I'm telling myself in the dark.
Help me come back to now.
Right here.
This moment.
The one that is actually happening.
This breath,
This ground beneath me.
This life that is still,
Even now,
Unfolding in ways I cannot see or predict or control.
And maybe that's okay.
Maybe not knowing everything is not the same as being lost.
Maybe the uncertainty I'm afraid of is also the same space where something beautiful is being quietly arranged.
And I don't have to see the whole path,
I just have to take the next step.
So give me the courage to do that.
To move forward without guarantees.
To trust the unfolding even when I cannot feel it.
To believe that whatever comes,
I will not meet it empty-handed.
I have survived every uncertain day so far.
So let that be my proof and let that be my peace.
Amen.
