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I’ve been listening to Karen Clark Sheard’s song Praying Spirit on repeat.

There’s a line that feels like it was written for me right now:

“Lord, when I pray, give me what to say.”

Because in this season, I’m tender. I’m overwhelmed. I’m in transition. I’m becoming.

I’m navigating the weight of a PhD program.
I’m holding uncertainty around my work and a few major projects.
I’m writing a book with urgency about Black love's survival.
I’m deepening into priesthood.
And I just turned 43.

And I don’t want to romanticize this moment.

I’m not only inspired.
I’m also tired.

I’m not only faithful.
I’m also scared.

I’m not only clear.
I’m also asking: what’s next for me?

So I’ve been spending a lot of time at my altar.

I’m talking less to people and talking more to Spirit.

And honestly, the biggest guidance I’ve received lately is this:

I’m allowed to feel my feelings.

I don’t have to rush through them.
I don’t have to turn them into a lesson immediately.
I don’t have to make grief productive the moment it arrives.

Sometimes what’s holy is simply telling the truth.

So here’s my truth right now:

I’m in contemplation.
I’m in the unknown.
I’m in that wave between certainty and uncertainty.

I know God is with me.
But I’m still learning how to trust what I know when life shifts the ground beneath my feet.

So my prayer has been simple:

Lord, when I pray, give me what to say.​
Give me the words.
Give me the ask.
Give me the courage.
Give me the yes.

And give me the hope to sustain me until you come.

And if nothing else, give me a praying spirit.

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What is 2026 teaching you so far? Feel free to email me back and let me know how this resonates for you! Are we all navigating some slower, question mark question mark spaces? And if so -- how are you managing?

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In Grace,

ebonyjanice