From the moment I received the call, I couldn’t calm my thoughts. It was like a broken record playing in my mind. I was constantly in a state of trying to convince myself this wasn’t real… she couldn’t be dead. I’d tell myself, “She’s just on a vacation on some tropical island with no internet or cell service. She’ll be back soon.”
That sounds delusional as I type it out. But I think I needed the delusion at the time. I needed to not face the facts. I was trying to keep my baby alive, and the truth was just too much weight to bear. Any time I let reality set in, I was met with sheer, uncontrollable panic. But as long as I lied to myself, I could keep going.
Being in denial is A LOT of work. Especially when you’re surrounded by constant reminders that your mom is, in fact, dead. My mind was working overtime to keep the lie up. It was almost impossible to focus on anything else… including prayer.
It’s not that I didn’t want to pray. I desperately wanted to. I wanted to beg God for answers. I wanted to ask Him for help. I needed to talk to the One who could heal this hurt. But I couldn’t. Any time I would try to pray, my mind was pulled in 50 different directions. I wasn’t able to get out more than a couple sentences before I was swamped with thoughts like, “You can’t think about this, Taylor. You can’t have a panic attack right now. You can’t burden your baby’s health with this grief. Just forget about it for now.” So, I stopped trying.
It wasn’t out of anger toward God. Because honestly, at the time, God was the only one I wasn’t mad at. I knew that He was the reason I would get to see my mom again one day. He was my glimpse of hope. I couldn’t be angry at Him.
I don’t think I realized it at the time. But I know now that I stopped trying to pray out of fear. Fear that prayer would ruin my delusions. Fear that prayer would make me aware of my new normal. Fear that prayer would hurt more than it would heal. I felt so guilty for not praying, especially at a time when I needed to cling tighter to God than ever before. But I was so stuck in fear.
The only way I could really communicate with God was through music. I would hear songs at church or on the radio, and I’d think to myself, “THAT’S what I want to say to God.” And a lightbulb finally switched on in my mind. I closed my eyes and said, “God, please accept my songs as prayers to You until I can get my thoughts together.”
And that’s what I did for about the first six months of my grief.
I would whisper an “Amen” at the end of any song I felt drawn to. When I found ones that pulled heavy on my heart, I’d listen to them on a loop and say, “Lord, this is my cry to you.” Some of my most played songs were Same God, Goodness of God, Hymn of Heaven, and My God is Still the Same (Go ahead and save those to your playlist – you can thank me later).
I’m not saying I took the best approach. It was messy. But I really believe the Lord offers us so much grace in our grief. Scripture is filled with verses about weeping and mourning and sorrow. Look at just about any chapter in the book of Psalms, and you will see those emotions displayed in great detail. The most captivating part about these recurring Scriptural themes is that God’s promise to listen and comfort always follows. And in that promise, I find peace.
If you’ve found yourself in a season where it seems hard to get your prayers out, I hope you’ll give yourself permission to try different ways to communicate with God. Romans 8:26 says,
The Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.
Maybe you can communicate through songs of worship. Once again, the Psalms are a great point of reference, as the authors often tell us to sing to the Lord. We are told to use our voices to make a joyful noise and lift up praise to Him. This repeated command gives me complete confidence that the Lord hears the songs we cry out, and He knows the posture of our hearts.
Or maybe you can communicate through journaling. Many, including myself, have found it’s easier to stay “on track” with a prayer when you’re forced to put a pen to paper. It can allow time to pause when your mind may wander. When you’ve collected yourself, simply pick up where you left off.
Journaling prayers also gives a physical way to chart your “progress” with grief. Don’t mishear me – you’ll never get over your loss. However, I know there were days I convinced myself I would never be able to feel happiness again. But through journaling those intense prayers of pain, I have been able to look back and see firsthand that my joy and happiness was not forever lost like I’d thought. And that’s given me so much hope for the days and years ahead.
When you’re in the thick of grief, I think it’s easy to feel like you’re doing everything wrong. The way you grieve, the way you parent, the way you work, the way you pray…
Unfortunately, grieving doesn’t come with a “one size fits all” survival guide. We’re going to get a lot of things wrong in this season, but there’s one thing we can always get right – opening our hearts up to communication with God. He doesn’t expect it to be perfect. He just expects us to do it… in whatever way we can.
I've Witnessed It. 