A Liturgy for Seeing the Unseen

Half her face sags, a baby on her hip
Around a table of put-together moms
She sips from her mug

A man feels like a middle schooler
When he compares himself to others his age
And feels different, behind

She waits in the psych ward for her son’s evaluation
Intake? Go home?
There aren’t words to describe her fear

A mom has a breakdown after years of holding
Her family together
She is exhausted to the bone

With the pressure to find community
She’s tried every church, small group and offering
Only to find herself on her porch by herself

He’s stepped out of every system
Unsure of where the vast unknown
Will lead

He didn’t stand up for his wife at a hurtful remark made by a family member
She’s feeling she may be the only one
Who will protect her

Unseen one, you are seen
By the God who is mindful of each sparrow that falls to the ground
Who gathers your tears in his bottomless jar
Who searches and brings you home safely
Who plants dream seeds and watches your longings bloom

You are seen
You are seen
You are seen by the Seer.