When You Can’t Even Pray

I used to wonder why anyone would drink poison on purpose and hope to live.

You’ll drink deadly poison

and not be harmed at all.

~ Jesus {Mark 16:18}

But then a year ago they sewed a little heart-shaped box inside my chest.

It was so my body could drink poison—the chemotherapy that helped save me.

I suppose we all know someone in poison’s jaws in one way or another.

When it was me, I remember, I couldn’t even pray.

Before things were properly adjusted, it got rough for a while.

I felt like all the lights inside me went out.

I felt silent, fell silent, even in my spirit.

Prayer gave way to merely breathing between waves of nausea.

I could think of nothing but getting from one moment to the next.

The only thing I looked forward to was sleep.

So in that moment, I journaled, like a message in a bottle that I hoped would float back to shore on the other side of things.

Now, exactly one year later, it has.

Here’s a little of what I wrote to myself. Maybe you can relate?

When poison wraps its shadow-claws around the thin places, I go lifeless.

Personality gives way to a hollow inner howl where once were thoughts and joys and expectations.

It takes everything, and I lie wondering if I’ll ever be me again.

Mama calls and I don’t even have to ask her…

She says, You’re still you. You’re in there and we see you.

I have no fight.

I have no will to braid hair, wash little faces, or pack lunches.

Everything that distantly seemed like drudge work is now the sparkling privilege of a princess-mother who is strong and ready and able.

Not sick.

Not dis-able.

Everything feels green and sour. Everything has an odor I hadn’t noticed before.

Days…. long, long days inside myself, unable to pray.

~

It seems a little dramatic now, but I remember feeling that way and contemplating how there were probably people everywhere who felt the same way, for different reasons.

It was my family and friends’ prayers slipped through the walls to me that steadied my hope back then.

And something my brother whispered in a text:

Exodus 14:14.

I remember promising myself if I ever escaped, I wouldn’t be like the King’s cupbearer and forget others still trapped there.

So today, now that I can pray again, I’m praying for you.

Today, just breathe.

Give yourself permission to just breathe well.

Be still.

Don’t try to pray if you can’t, or think too deeply.

Just let God be God.

Know.

Don’t try to be strong—

He is God.

Let Him fight for you.

The moment will come when what’s arrested your fight—whether it’s chemicals or depression or big changes—when it lets go, you’ll know, because you’ll feel the ever slight flutter of your wings trying to rise again.

The warm teasing wind reminds how it feels to wave them hard and on purpose.

Soon, again soon, that will be you.

That’s when you’ll pray again.

But today, just breathe.

 

The LORD will fight for you;

you need only to be still.

~ Exodus 14:14

 

13 Comments


  1. // Reply

    There was a time in my life that I couldn’t pray. I used to hope that God could understand my tears because that’s all I had left. Tears. Then I read a page in a book. Then I read a book. And now I search out anything that’s spiritual that helps me pray again. Pray better. Pray with more meaning. And in my search I found you. I thank you for the words that you write and the stories that you tell. I’ve never met
    You but I love You. ❤️💕


    1. // Reply

      What kindness for you to take time to leave these words for me, Angie. I pray you feel held and seen and cherished through and through by God’s Spirit. I sure do love you too!


  2. // Reply

    I see heavenly JOY in you Mrs. Gist! Just by reading your words and thoughts! I have an uncle who has just been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, the cancer is in his bones and some of his other major organs! Will you mention his name in your prayers? His name is Randall! Thank you.
    Sara


    1. // Reply

      Sara, it is my honor to pray over your Uncle Randall and everyone who loves him. Thank you for sharing this with me. You are loved, sweet one.


  3. // Reply

    You are so amazing, Sally Anne! May God’s perfect blessings surround your life daily, just as you bless those who are privileged to know you! ❤


  4. // Reply

    Thank you my dear sweet Sunshine. Such wonderful insight, and you are so right. It’s not always chemo that puts you there, other things can do the same……….you are my Sunshine.


  6. // Reply

    You are such a blessing, every bit of your being! I am lifted every time I read your words, and you teach me that I am worthy. Thank you, and sending my love across the miles. 🌈🙏🏻💖 Have I ever told you how thankful I am for you??? 💖💖💖💖


  7. // Reply

    God has gifted you with words that bring peace and comfort. I am so grateful that you are in my life. I love you. ❤️


    1. // Reply

      I love you–Only the Lord knows how much I love you and how often you come to mind. The world needs more Sandras! Warmest, thankful hugs to you.

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