God of tiny perfect flowers and big terrible pandemics,
God of our most rapturous joys and deepest growling fears,
God who was and is and will forever be present and steady and close,
When everything in us has been kicked up like a cloud of dust, slow the winds so we too can settle.
When the realization that we have no control over the future breaks anew, hold our wild grasping hands in your gentle steadiness.
When we seek comfort in objects and organization and do not find it, draw us closer and remind us that peace is found in you and it is found freely, without our frantic striving.
When we are afraid, when we feel aloft and rootless, when it is all dust upon dust; remind us that you are our anchor, good and certain and always holding us fast, tethered by your unshakable love.