“I have prayed so hard. I don’t think I have any prayers left in me.“
She sobbed and held her daughter's hand, and stroked her forehead. She was bloodied, broken, and lifeless. I knelt next to her. The emergency room floor was hard and cold, as always. I thought to myself, “I don’t know if I have any prayers left in me either.“
I prayed anyway.
I prayed to God, who I believe is loving and good. I didn't ask for anything. What could I ask for? Nothing could erase the pain or reverse the outcome for this family. Nothing would help me unsee what I saw. But I'm learning that when I don't have any prayers left is when I need to pray the most.
I don't have anything else profound our thoughtful to say. This morning I'm still empty. And I'm still praying. I'm comforted to know others are praying for me too.