Even a whispered prayer is heard.

There are seasons when life throws punches faster than you can catch your breath. And sometimes all you can do is sit by the window at night and whisper for help.

It doesn't have to be eloquent. It doesn't have to be brave. A tired prayer, half-finished, is still a prayer.

Healing rarely comes all at once. It comes as a little light in the dark window, then a little more. Enough for tonight.

If you're in that season right now: you're not forgotten. Keep the candle lit.