Prayer is the act and presence of sending this light from the bountifulness of your love to other people to heal, free, and bless them. Where there is love in your life, you should share it spiritually with those who are pushed to the very edge of life. John O’Donohue, Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom

Over the years, Kim has written blessings for friends on request or as gifts.  First published on her personal blog, we’d like to gift them to you.  We only ask that you include Each Holy Hour as the source.

If you would like to have a blessing written for you or a loved one, please contact us, and hopefully it will appear here.

In order, scroll down to find a blessing for:

  •  A Weary Caregiver
  • The Those Left Behind after Suicide
  • Newness of Life
  • The Peacemaker
  • Sudden, Unwanted Change
  • Leaving
  • One Living Under the Weight of Grief
  • A Woman in Labor
  • For a Single Parent
  • For a Newborn
  • For Mothers and All Who Nurture

A Blessing for the Weary Caregiver

Now in these lonely hours
when you wake seized by anxiety’s harsh fist,

when worry leaches your spirit of color
and your breath comes fast as if keeping you just alive–
Now, as you gaze into this grey, unchanging abyss

May color startle you:
Look, coming up from darkness–
this bright red bird beating strong wings!

May you hear music in the treetops,
yes, even in the trees you forgot grew around you,
lifting branches to sky.

May you open your arms to feel strength
beginning in your fingertips,
spreading up and through each weary cell
until your breath comes deeply, solidly.

May you open your hands to receive
gifts as soft as bird feathers.

To you who give unceasingly,
they speak of sacrifice and suffering–
to you who live in love, they sing too
of flying, of wings.

Dear beloved one,
today may you find courage,
the splendid hope of birds,
voices singing all around you:

You are not unseen,
you are known,
you are not alone.

For the Those Left Behind After Suicide

In this darkness that your loved one has left behind,
may your imagination be transformed.

May you trust that Love does not abandon its own to darkness.

May you step into the arms of that Love.
And may your laments be long and voluble.

May those who love you sit long and quietly
beside this bitter river of grief.
May you not dwell in the pits of shame and guilt,
nor stumble into the maze of self-accusation.

May your steps lead you away from the cruel grasp of regret;
May you walk pathways of vulnerability and freedom.

May you trust that our lives are more vast and beautiful
than our limited understanding can grasp.

May you know that no shred of goodness in this world is ever wasted,
but is gathered up by One who loves without end.

May the bitter waters of your grief run sweet.

For Newness of Life

In this darkness binding you,
impenetrable as night within night,
not even the smallest whisper
reaches your shrouded silence.

Everything has stopped growing,
everything has stopped moving.

Now listen, you who are dead.
Hear the heave of heavy stone,
see a sliver of light.

Hear the scrape of footsteps,
silence broken forever
by breath, by birdsong.

this ancient silence breaks,
Now your eyes open wide to color.

May this garden now open to you
as you step out of end
into beginning–

of everything reaching up
gentle and wild and strong

My you feel warmth
spreading through cold bones.

Now everything is new.

May you know
is new.


reflection pool

The Reflecting Pool at Bloedel Reserve, Bainbridge Island

For the Peacemaker

In deep listening may you deepen,
sifting words and feelings
until you have what you need.

May your spirit embrace silence
and your mind expand
in compassion.

May you feel the anointment
of peace and the courage of peacemakers
who have walked before you.

As you wade into turbulent waters
may your eyes be opened
to see the true faces behind masks;
may you hear the secret stories
of longing, discontent and bitterness.

May you choose wonder instead of judgment.

May you be gifted with great imagination.

May you chose your words with the care
of a friend, an artist, and a healer,
so they will be given with wisdom and love.

May the words that you speak
become great and holy vessels
of reconciliation.

May the peace you offer
with open hands
become a strong, enduring bridge,
connecting distant land with distant land,
making a way for free and joyful travel.

And when you have finally spoken,
may you find wisdom in silence.

May you be able to step back as you stepped forward:
knowing you have done what peace
called you to do.

May you breathe deeply,
endure patiently,
and may you in turn receive peace
beyond your own understanding.


For Sudden, Unwanted Change

When winds you neither anticipate nor welcome
blow away familiar friends and places
and you find yourself unequipped in a lonely space—

Be still.

Refuse to let anxiety dictate a new map;
Do not let restlessness drive you.
Instead, here between leave and arrive
may you find a quiet space, removed and hallowed.

May you feel the earth solid below your feet,
the sky stretching above you.

May you listen to the rhythm of your breath.
Inhale mercy and rest.
Exhale, giving thanks for what was.

Now may you hear a voice that sings in you.
May you feel the ground beneath you, which is love.
Wherever you journey, may it pave a way for you.

And may you see the sky above you,
which is goodness.
May it never be a stranger to you.


FullSizeRender (19)

For Leaving

May you take time to walk
through the rooms you inhabited,
pausing to remember all that was good
and all that was difficult.

May you hold each memory,
each face, each word.

Take your time.

Laugh, mourn.

Now, may you find the courage
to take hope by the hand
and walk away.


For One Living under the Weight of Grief

In the small hours of the morning
when you wake with the hand of worry at your throat
may you be surprised by solace.

In your daily offices—
the simple actions of your day,
when you feel as if your hands and feet
are too heavy to lift,
may you find sanctity in the sureness of a tea cup,
the solidness of trees, the weight of a friend’s hand.

In the afternoon, when your mind is weary,
may you find wisdom in silence, shadow and sunlight.

In the evening when darkness draws in
and the day has not yet reconciled herself with night,
may you allow yourself to grieve injustice.
May you feel find voice to name your sadness,
and may your words be held with love.

In night, when all seems spent and empty
may you find a table is laid for you,
a fire prepared in your hearth,
food and drink given into your hands,
your chairs filled with those who love you well.

In the darkness of sleep
may you feel the protective walls of your home,
hear the rhythm of your breath
and the stillness that yet is filled with words;

May you know this mystery: all you love
is bound safely beyond your own understanding.
May you find peace in your dreams
and joy in the morning.


For a Woman in Labor

Now in this time of waiting
when the world seems to be gathering
to its center in you–

May you feel your strength
as sure as the intake of your breath.

As your spirit curls around this gift
you have nourished for all these months,
take a breath of gratitude; hold it, let it go.

Time to unwrap, petal by petal.
It will be hard but you are strong.

May you know your courage deeply as roots,
coursing down through the good earth.

May you know your love as tender
and powerful as spring’s first unfurling leaf.

May you tune your ear to the story you are telling.

May you close your eyes,
withdrawing to a hallowed place
where every breath
fills you with courage.

May you endure with patience.
May you remember you are loved.

And as you welcome this mystery,
May you be filled with great joy and wonder.



Photo by Ken Cockroft

For a Single Parent

May you feel the strength of love
and the endurance of hope.

May your thoughts be nurtured richly.
May your intellect be met with respect
and the work of your hands celebrated.

May you drink deeply and find refreshment.

May you lie down in assurance
under great trees that shade you and your children.

May those who love you gather
like birds in your branches
and may the sound of their wings
give you joy.

May you trust the rootedness of your good life.

For a Newborn

Dear one, fresh from God’s hands,
come into this room,
you have this place here among us,
this day, this night, in silence
and song, in word and substance,
in touch, breeze, warmth of sun
in morning tomorrow,
yes, morning!
and a morning after that one,
and many, many mornings.

Like a song that comforts your mother’s
heart after long winter,
you have come.
We sing blessings for you:
goodness, faith, endurance and hope;
mountain, river, rain and blossom;
sky, tree, wind, and footfall;
running, dancing, laughter, and hug;
father, mother, sister, brother,
auntie, uncle, cousin, friend,

And joy.  And joy.  And joy!


bertie and kim

For Mothers and All Who Nurture


To you who brings great delight to your children,
may you feel the joy of those who delight in you.

To you who carried your children in the quiet space of yourself,
may you be carried, fed, and held by the love of your community.

To you who nurture your children,
who feed them day after day out of your abundance or scarcity,
may your soul be nurtured greatly.

To you who named your children,
may you remember your true name.

To you who create much out of little,
may you find your gifts multiplied in abundance.

To you who plead for your children,
may your prayers be answered.

To you who strive to instill excellence and kindness,
perseverance and honesty, courage and grace—
may you be filled with peace.
May you trust that every prayer, every word, every action, is never wasted.

To you who wander in the valley of loss and disappointment,
may you find comfort.
May your cup be filled again, and running over.

To you who must parent alone,
may you find great strength, patience and perseverance.
May your children be surrounded by many who love and guide.
May you receive great grace and sustenance every step of the way.

To you who miss your mother,
may you find quiet space for gratitude and remembrance.
May you remember tenderness, goodness and courage,
and may this be the legacy you hand down to your children.

To you who must let go of your children,
may your letting go be gentle.
May the new chapter of your life be abundantly full.
May your children’s journeys lead them often back to your door,
and may your arms always be open to receive them, just as they come.

To all of you who nurture,
may you experience the freedom in your love.
And may you be strengthened in your journey.