The celebrations have ended, and now that the world is dark and quiet with everyone asleep, I'm feeling it again, the tears from this morning welling back up and weighing on my chest. 😪

My heart is speaking so loudly in the stillness. When the world quiets down, the soul finally has space to feel — and that’s when the tears return, soft and fierce all at once. This isn’t just about the wedding. It’s everything it stirred up.

I’ve witnessed something sacred — the kind of moment that gently brushes against all the years behind it:

The letting go.

The holding on.

The prayers that went up from before conception, throughout my pregnancy and throughout his life.

The memories of little feet, scraped knees, and whispered prayers at night.

A young man still covered in prayers.

And now… a ring, a vow, a whole new beginning.

I tell myself it’s okay to cry. Those tears are holy. They carry every “I’m proud of you!” every "You remind me of your father in your caring and loving ways,"every “I miss the little boy you were,” every “thank you, God, for carrying us this far.”

This ache — it’s love stretching. It’s my heart expanding again to hold this new season. And it’s not wrong or weak or oversensitive. It’s real. It’s me.

A Mother's Midnight Prayer

Lord, now that the world is still and my heart is wide open,

I bring You the tears I’ve tried to hold back all day.

They’re not just from today —

They come from years of loving, letting go, and loving still.

You see the ache I can’t name —

The beauty and the bittersweet all tangled together.

You know what it means to give your child away,

To watch them grow,

To watch them fly.

Thank You for the gift of this moment,

For the joy of today,

For the love they’ve found,

And for the way You’ve carried me through every season of motherhood.

But tonight, God…

I feel tender.

And that’s okay, right?

Let these tears be worship,

Let this ache be offering,

Let this stillness be the place where You hold me close.

Wrap me in Your peace now.

Let me rest in the knowing that You are here —

In the memories,

In the milestones,

And in every breath I take.

Amen.

So now I place my hand over my heart and simply breathe with these words: