The prayer almost nobody dares

What do you usually pray when it hits like this? Give me strength. Help me hold on. Get me through the next hour. All true. All good. And every one of them agrees to something without saying it. The wanting stays, and you brace against it forever.

It's like praying for a bigger bucket in a leaking boat. No wonder your arms ache. The cigarette passed its hunger off as yours. It isn't yours. There's a bolder request, and hardly anyone makes it. Ask for the wanting itself to be taken.

Tell Him straight. Lord, lift the wanting out of me. Then notice what shifts in the asking. A minute ago the craving felt like part of you. Now it's something in your open hands, held out to God. Give those hands a new job while He holds it. Clear one surface, the counter or your desk, item by item. You can't hand something over and be it at the same time.

Some days the wanting goes quiet in a way you can't explain. Other days it stays loud, and you outlast it anyway. Both count. Big requests don't offend Him, so ask again tomorrow. This is one prayer you're allowed to wear out. That clear surface in front of you is what winning looks like.