The Work They Never Saw Verse 1 The coffee’s cold before the morning starts, Bills on the counter, prayers inside my heart. Tiny shoes lined up beside the door, Little reasons I keep fighting for. I learned to count the hours by the laundry piles, Measure hope in homework and exhausted smiles. Nobody claps when the dishes get done, Or when you hold the whole house together one more time. Pre-Chorus They’ll never know How many storms I swallowed whole, Like Jonah in the belly of the sea; Holding fast to borrowed hope When no one else could see. How many tears I hid away Before the sun could find my face, Choosing faith before my fear, Just enough for one more day. ⸻ Chorus They’ll say, “She made it,” Like it happened overnight. They’ll never see the battles Hidden underneath the light. The empty chair at every game, The phone that never rang. The promises that disappeared, The silence that remained. But every lunch I packed with shaking hands, Every bedtime story, every second chance, Every whispered, “You’re okay…” Was manna for another day. This is the work they never saw. ⸻ Verse 2 Some nights I wore tomorrow like a stone, Wondering how I’d build a world alone. Working one more shift while papers filled the floor, Trying to become the woman my children deserved. I became mechanic, counsellor, nurse, Teacher, chauffeur, cheerleader first. Judge of broken friendships, finder of lost shoes, Keeper of the calendars and impossible truths. And when they slept, I’d finally break, Cry where little hearts couldn’t hear me ache. ⸻ Pre-Chorus Because children should remember The warmth before the worry. The arms before the heartbreak. The love before the hurry. So I swallowed one more storm, And prayed they’d never know. If I could carry all the fear, Perhaps they’d never have to hold it. ⸻ Chorus They’ll say, “She’s strong,” Like strength was something I was born with. They’ll never count the thousand little choices Made before the morning. The birthdays that I stitched together, The fears I held instead of them. The dreams I quietly postponed So they could chase their own. Every meal, every ride, Every midnight by their side, Every, “I’ve got you,” through the pain— Invisible, but never vain. This is the work they never saw. ⸻ Bridge I’ve wrestled angels in the dark, Like Jacob holding through the night. Not because I thought I’d win, But because I couldn’t let go of the light. I’ve built my house on borrowed loaves, Watched oil somehow never cease. Found enough where there was little, And called that miracle “next week’s groceries.” I’ve carried crosses no one saw, Without a crown, without applause. Believing seeds beneath the earth Still bloom because of unseen love. Maybe Heaven counts the things The world forgets to see: The folded laundry. The whispered prayers. The tears that fell beside the sink. The trembling hope that chose to stay. Maybe every hidden sacrifice Is written somewhere long before Anyone calls it brave. ⸻ Final Chorus One day they’ll look behind them, Long after they’ve all grown, And they’ll notice there was always Someone carrying them home. Not with miracles that split the sea, But miracles that happened quietly— A table filled when cupboards thinned, A weary heart that loved again. They’ll see the cracks inside my hands, The miles beneath my feet. And maybe then they’ll understand Love is rarely loud. Sometimes it’s a widow’s oil. Sometimes it’s five loaves shared. Sometimes it’s swallowing storms whole So your children never breathe the fear. And if the world remembers me at all, I don’t need monuments of stone. Just let my children know… Every ordinary thing I did Was another way of saying, “I loved you. I believed for you. I prayed for you. And when I had no strength left… God carried us both.”
