End of day. I climb into Em’s loft for our almost-nightly time of talk and prayer. She scoots over her pillow, and my head sinks next to hers. We are both quiet. My eyelids droop. Sleep beckons. I fight back.

“Want me to pray?”

“M-hm.”

“Lord…”

I am usually a long pray-er, but tonight words seem heavy. My tired brain struggles to use them well enough to express the thoughts swirling in my mind. Thinking them is enough work for this moment late in the day.

Finally I say, “Thank You.”

And then, “Help, please.”

Em is not asleep, but she seems content.

And I am, too.

Because my wise God knows my thoughts and intercedes for me, and, though we clearly need the eloquence of phrases and clauses (there are 150 Psalms, after all), sometimes just a few words will do.

And tonight, “thank you” and “help, please” are enough.