Pray Through the Pain

In 2001, I experienced the one of the worst things imaginable. I lost my mother to suicide and my life was never the same.
 
Like many families that experience suicide, my family had difficulty coping with the situation. The funeral was a horrible experience. Two very distraught relatives decided to chastise me in public during their eulogies. They clearly stated that they believed my mother’s suicide was my fault. I was the worst daughter in the world.
 
The service was unbearable. The preacher officiating at the funeral was called in at the last minute. He delivered a hell, fire, and brimstone message followed by an altar call. I deeply resented the message because I felt that it was a direct condemnation of my mother’s choice to take her life.
 
Anger engulfed me. Instead of remaining numb and unable to pray, I railed against God. I took every opportunity to tell God just how I felt and often used some of the most shameful language in my intense sorrow and anger. I began crying whenever I was alone and the tears were like liquid rage as they poured down my face. I had been silent and apathetic for so long, but the injustice of everything surrounding my mother’s death finally goaded me into engaging God.
 
When I started talking to God, I looked for every reason I could find to discredit Him. I read books for and against Christianity. In retrospect, I’m not sure if I intended to prove to myself that my mother wasn’t in hell, or if I was trying to prove that God didn’t exist.
 
My search lasted an entire year, and as it became more fervent, every question I asked in my mind to God was met with an answer. Questions I shared with no living person were answered through books and other people’s divine insight. I couldn’t explain this. God had to be real because He was talking back to me.
 
At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But after answers continued to come, my anger began to decrease. I continued asking questions; I couldn’t stop. Before long I realized I had been praying without acknowledging what I was doing. Not long after, I discovered that I thrived on this activity and I began to actively seek out my Heavenly Father by going to church as well as listening to preachers on television. I was hungry to learn more about God for the first time in my life.
 
My life was still a mess. I had a non-believing husband who was threatened by my new relationship with God. He actively attacked me and tried to prevent me from going to church and reading God’s Word. These types of attacks would usually have affected me negatively, but my growing relationship with God began to be a shield against them.

Looking back, I recognize that God used the worst thing imaginable to teach me to pray, and to draw me nearer to Him. Losing my mother to suicide was horrible and having my own family blame me for her death was almost unbearable. During that time, I lost everyone but gained a precious relationship with God.
 
I don’t have set times to pray. There is no schedule. I talk to God constantly about everything. I ask Him questions, thank him, and stay in constant conversation. One of my favorite verses is 1 Thessalonians 5:17, “Pray without ceasing.” I don’t live that out of piety or resolution but because I have no other option for survival.
 
The truth of the matter is that none of us really have any other option. We might think we do or be distracted, but it’s an illusion. Prayer isn’t a routine, it’s communion with God. Like everyone else, I get busy and there are times when I don’t take time to pray, but it doesn’t take long for me to begin feeling the effects of my forgetfulness. When situations force me to depend totally on God, I discover the blessings it brings. Experiencing distance from my Creator causes painfulness and longing that quickly bring me to my knees once again.