Some mornings break heavy,
with pain humming under the skin
and fatigue settling like fog
I watch others run freely
with the same wounds I carry,
and a small part of me whispers,
Lord, why not me? Why must I fight so hard
for what seems easy to them?
You give me just enough strength
to rise, to work, to keep a roof overhead
I may cry through the ache,
I may move slower than I wish,
I may feel the unfairness burn
yet You meet me in the struggle
and call it faithfulness.
tired but trying, hurting but here.
Thank You for the strength to work,
for the dignity of providing,
for the quiet courage You place in me
And if today I need rest,
a long lunch, a shorter shift,
let me take it without guilt,
in both the labor and the letting go.