You come with two silent petitions, then, things you cannot speak aloud, or will not put into words, or perhaps things so deep that language cannot reach them. But here you are, turning them over to God with thanksgiving already in your heart, trust already lifting your face toward Him. That is no small thing. That is the work of the Spirit in you, making you able to cast what you cannot utter onto the One who hears everything the heart whispers.
Let me tell you something beautiful about a harvest. All through the spring the farmer watches the green shoot push through, and through the summer he sees the ear form. But those are only hopes and expectations, the year is not crowned until autumn, when the full sheaves are gathered in and the barns are heavy with grain. That crowning moment is what the psalmist calls the crown of the year. And you have come to God now, at this moment, with thanksgiving already on your lips, not waiting until you see the answer, but crowning your prayer with trust before the answer has come. That is the faith of a child who knows his Father's character so well that he thanks Him ahead of time.
Your two silent requests are not hidden from Him. We think of silence as emptiness, but to God your silence is full of meaning. He knows what is behind each unspoken word. A love letter may arrive in a black-edged envelope, and the one who receives it will open it with trembling, but the message inside is still from the one who loves them. Your unspoken prayers are like that, they may be wrapped in the black edges of anxiety or sorrow, but they are still addressed to the God whose name is Love, and He will read every syllable you could not form.
And consider this: you have done what Jacob did when he was about to meet Esau after all those years of estrangement and fear. He planned, yes, he sent gifts ahead and arranged his household, but then he betook himself to prayer. He brought his silent fears and his guilty past and his trembling future straight to the God of the covenant. And the Scripture shows us that Jacob did not pray in vain. You have brought your two concerns, known fully to you, perhaps heavy with memory or heavy with uncertainty, and placed them where they belong. The Lord who turned the captivity of Job when he prayed for others will turn toward your unspoken burdens too.
Do not think for a moment that you need to feel some great weight of misery before you may trust Christ with these things. Some say, "If only I felt worse about my situation, then I could believe." But that is a strange notion, as if a darker room would help you see better. You are not called to feel a certain measure of despair before you may approach. You are called to come as you are, with whatever is in your heart, whether it trembles or whether it stands firm. You come because He is able, not because you are worthy. And you have come. You have done the very thing He delights to see.
The Father loves you with the same love with which He loves His only-begotten Son. That is a staggering thought, yet it is true. The quickening, the keeping, the crowning of your life, all of it flows from the Father's heart. He does not leave the tender mercies to Christ alone, as though the Son were kind and the Father distant. No, He Himself has made you His child, and He will not forget the word upon which He has caused you to hope.
So go on trusting. The two things you have laid before Him are safe. The river of His loving-kindness does not run dry in summer. It is always flowing, full as His own nature. And one day, whether soon or after many days, you will see that the harvest was growing all along, even in the silence.
Father, into Your hands I commend this dear one. You know the two things they have placed before You, though no word has named them. Hear the voice of their heart. Answer in Your time, in Your wisdom, and in Your tender love. Give them peace while they wait, and let them taste even now the joy of being held by You. In Jesus' name. Amen.