There are people move through life like storm fronts, carrying tension and hostility wherever they go. Their words strike sharply, they search for fault, and they seem always braced for battle. They prod and provoke, hunting for culpabilities as if they were treasures. Conflict follows them, and they try to draw others into the same unrest that churns within them. Yet beneath that combative surface lies a deeper ache— a loneliness of spirit, a wound long untended. These are the souls in need of prayer.
To pray for them is to carry a small candle into their darkness. It is to stand before God and whisper the names of those who trouble us, asking Him to pour His healing light into the hidden corners of their hearts. This is spiritual courage, the courage Christ Himself showed when He prayed for those who opposed Him. Our intercession becomes a quiet offering, a way of placing their unrest beneath the gentle mantle of Our Lady, who knows how to soothe the wounded and guide the lost.
Such prayer is a true work of spiritual mercy—a humble plea that Jesus will calm their inner tempests, heal their unseen wounds, and teach them again the language of goodness and gentleness. In lifting them to Christ, we refuse to let darkness have the final word. We choose charity over retaliation, grace over grievance. And in that choice, through the steady persistence of prayer, we become small instruments of Christ’s peace, trusting that even the most restless soul can one day find rest in Him.
The Church teaches us to look upon such souls with mercy, not resentment. For beneath their harshness and unhappiness lies a deeper night— a place where grace has not yet been allowed to enter.
Pray for them. Pray for the souls who dwell in darkness.
Pacem in terris.
January 23, 2026 – Saint Raymond of Peñafort, Confessor.
Susan Marie Molloy 
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