The first time I heard a variant of this phrase was when I was listening to a woman’s testimony after her sister was murdered. She gained the ability to stand the pain of her grief through prayer she said. I couldn’t fathom it.
Though every grief experience is entirely personal, and very different in many ways for each individual, I think I was 10 when I heard her testimony, and I never forgot it. Those words stood out to me then, and they relate to me now in a different way even 40 years later.
The motivation of this entire project is to write my way through grief. I found that motivation through prayer. But it took a while to get there.
Grief is the most powerful emotion I have ever experienced. In fact, it is an entanglement of a myriad of emotions and physical effects. It affects your memory, your physical health, your goals, your mental and emotional stability, the way you form sentences, and the people around you who feel powerless to help. It knocks you to your knees. Seems an apt place to pray, doesn’t it?
My first prayer went on for hours, maybe days when I learned of Vince’s death. “Oh God…” That was my prayer— more like a plea I guess. It was all I could say. I couldn’t find any words for anything else, except crying out to God for some kind of comfort. Some kind of solace. Some kind of hope. Somewhere.
My prayers felt thin— stringy. The words were only words, the power behind my delivery was none existent. So, still without anything substantial besides my pleads to God, I repeated the Lord’s prayer, over and over and over again. …”On earth as it is in heaven.” Then hymns started flooding to my memories as I laid in bed unable to function, so I would repeat the words over and over to myself as best I could remember: “On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand… all other ground is sinking sand…” and “Surely it is God who saves me. I will trust in him and not be afraid…” But I was afraid. I was terrified, numb, and shattered. But I said it anyway. And I just kept repeating the Lord’s prayer, and the disjointed (in my head) hymns. Then, slowly, my prayers started evolving back into conversations again. Piece by piece.
My situation hasn’t changed unfortunately, but I have. I was able to get there through prayer. Even just muttering “Oh God” led me on my way back to where I was before. I am functioning better, and feel more grounded. Because I am more grounded. I can stand now.