(A liturgy for the Church when she feels the weariness of those in her midst.)

There is a heaviness here. 
The storm-tossed and heavy-laden sit beside us. 
Her sighs and tear-soaked face tell a deeper story than words ever could. 
Oh Father, hold her near. Give her yourself. 
You are our True Rest. 

Show me how to love her well. 
Show me how to shelter, and not expose. 
Show me how to listen and not assume. 
Show me how to lighten her load and lift her burden. 
Show me how to be your hands so she can lay down her work and rest. 
Show me how to be your feet so she can sit down and breathe. 
Oh Father, hold her near. Give her yourself. 
You are our True Rest. 

Teach me to reflect your peace. 
Teach me to reflect your comfort. 
Teach me to reflect your provision. 
Teach me to reflect your embrace. 
Oh Father, hold her near. Give her yourself. 
You are our True Rest. 

Help me see practical needs I can meet. 
Help me see emotional scars I can tend. 
Help me see spiritual burdens I can lift. 
Help me see mental loads I can carry. 
Oh Father, hold her near. Give her yourself. 
You are our True Rest. 

You are our Safe Harbor. 
Your waters are quiet, safe, and restorative. 
I can’t fix all that’s broken, 
so I will take her by the hand and lead her home to you. 
For in you alone, she will find respite and relief. 
You are our only hope. Her’s and mine. 
We are both adrift without you. 
Oh Father, hold us near. Give us yourself. 
You are our True Rest. 
Amen.