Prayer to fill the grieving space

This morning I had one of those mothering moments when you ask your child to trust your “no” because you are building character into him so he can become the man God wants him to be.

Then I say that someday, he’ll realize how much it mattered to have a mom who cared about these things.

Then I think about my mom and how I never realized the extent of her wisdom and love until I became a mother.

And how much I wish I could tell her that again right now. How I wish I could tell her anything at all, and how completely devastating it is to know I won’t speak to her again in my lifetime. The realization returns, almost like the first time it hit me.

And I have cried off and on all day ever since. Grief sucks like that.

How can there still be so many unseen empty spaces that hold grief?

God,

Would you just fill them, please?
Would you just pour yourself into the holes of longing and loss
and smother the grief with joy and contentment.

Will you hear this lament, 
and will you come and hold me?
You promised to be enough for me.
You are enough. I know that.

But it doesn’t feel like that today.
Today, everything seems wrong. 
Even all the things that don’t belong to mothering.
But especially those things.

Today, I don’t want to be me, the mother.
I want to be me, the daughter, again,
and that’s not possible.
I know I’m your daughter.
Will you please help that feel real enough?
Can you make it enough for me?

I know you understand this.
I can’t imagine the grief you’ve had–
and must still have–
every moment when your children (like me) make hurtful decisions
and when they don’t talk to you
and don’t listen to you.

Why you chose to present yourself as a parent,
I can only guess–
it’s the one human experience that is both exhilarating and fulfilling
and yet so devastating with every wrong turn your kids make
and every fear you have that they might do so.

You’re not afraid of anything.
You have perfect love, 
and that casts out fear.
Fill me with that love. 
I don’t want to fear anymore.
I don’t want to fear the void that grief leaves.
I’m tired of the loneliness.

Is that even possible?
To love someone and still be healed after they’re gone?

As much as possible,
I am pouring out myself to you 
and giving you permission–
I’m begging you–
fill me with yourself 
and your Spirit.
Fill me with love for you.
Maybe that will take the hurt away, at least a little.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.


*More blogs about grief here. You can also type “Grief” or “Mother” into the search box on my home page. There’s a lot to choose from. Also, check out the many sources on grief on my Pinterest.