The dishwasher has finished its long hum, and the list on the counter can curl up on its own. Whatever the phone wanted from you, it can want in the morning. Hear how the house goes still, the way a church does after the last chord is let go.
"Truly my soul waiteth upon God: from him cometh my salvation." — Psalm 62:1 (KJV)
Tonight's prayer Lord, the day's last hymn is sung, and I sit in the hush that follows. My soul waits on you tonight. I'm not pacing or checking the road. I wait like someone in a warm room, glad of good company. My salvation comes from you. I didn't earn it by supper, and I can't lose it by midnight. It was given, and it is kept. Thank you for the small songs of this day: the kettle, the laughter, the hand I held. Thank you that I'm held too. I rest now inside your holding. Amen.
Blessing for your rest May the Lord who keeps you through the night settle over you and everyone under your roof, as quiet as a held note. Sleep sweetly, and wake rested and glad.