Click to Book!There’s a kind of healing that only happens in the quiet. It’s not the kind of healing you can chase down or earn. It’s softer than that. Gentler. It sneaks in when the world finally hushes and you’re left alone with your own heart.
For me, that kind of healing has come through prayer and meditation.
Life pulls hard — especially as a single mom. The noise is constant: homework deadlines, snack negotiations, the never-ending to-do list, the loneliness that creeps in after the house is finally quiet and the kids are asleep. It can feel like you’re carrying the weight of the world alone, with no one to hand it off to. There were seasons I truly believed the weight might crush me.
Prayer became my breathing space. Not the polished, perfect kind. Not the kind you rehearse before meals. I’m talking about the kind that spills out between sobs when the dishes are still piled up, the kids are fighting, and the silence after they’re in bed feels heavier than the noise ever did. The kind where you don’t have the words so you just sit there and feel — and trust that somehow God hears even that.
Meditation became my reset button. Not anything fancy — just a few minutes of stillness when the house was finally quiet. Some nights I’d lay on the floor after bedtime routines, close my eyes, and just breathe. I wasn’t trying to “clear my mind” or “fix” anything. I just needed to remind myself that I was still in there — underneath the grocery lists and forgotten permission slips and late-night worries about the future.
There was a time, especially after my spinal cord injury, when I wasn’t sure how to carry it all. Pain, fear, motherhood — all tangled together. I remember lying there at night, feeling trapped in a body I didn’t recognize, trying not to drown in the “what-ifs.” It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t polished. And it certainly wasn’t easy.
But every night, I’d pray: “God, I don’t know how to do this. Help me.” Sometimes it was the only thing I could manage. And somehow, He did. Not by erasing the hard things, but by holding me through them. I would wake up the next morning — maybe not feeling “fixed” — but feeling carried.
Prayer and meditation didn’t make the challenges disappear, but they did make me stronger. Calmer. Kinder to myself. More anchored in the truth that I am not alone, even when it feels like it.
And you know what’s beautiful? Science is finally confirming what faith has known all along: prayer doesn’t just change our hearts — it changes our bodies, our brains, and our lives.
Studies have shown that prayer and meditation help lower cortisol, the stress hormone that keeps us locked in survival mode. They literally rewire the brain, thickening the prefrontal cortex — the part of the brain that helps us focus, regulate our emotions, and make wise decisions. Regular prayer and meditation don’t just make us feel calmer; they make us calmer, building resilience into the very structure of our brains.
Research has also found that people who engage in consistent spiritual practices have lower rates of anxiety and depression. Some studies even show that believing in a loving, personal God improves treatment outcomes for major depression — and that meditation can reduce symptoms of both anxiety and PTSD.
And the benefits don’t stop there. Prayer and meditation lower blood pressure, slow the heart rate, and protect our hearts from the long-term effects of stress. They even activate the areas of our brain responsible for connection and bonding, giving us a deeper sense of purpose and belonging — something every tired soul needs, especially in seasons of loneliness or transition.
In so many ways, prayer and meditation have been lifelines — not only for my faith but for my mental health. They saved my sanity. They saved my motherhood. They saved me.
If you’re a mama who’s feeling stretched thin, or a soul who’s just plain tired — I want you to know something: there is room for you to rest. To breathe. To be held, even here, even now. You don’t have to carry it all alone.
Sometimes healing isn’t loud. Sometimes it’s a quiet whisper at the end of a long day. Sometimes it’s a breath. A tear. A prayer. And little by little, it brings you back home to yourself.
And if you’re needing someone to walk alongside you through these hard places, our team at Fuller Living would be honored to walk with you. We believe no one should have to face their battles alone. Whether it’s learning how to breathe again after heartbreak or finding your footing in a brand new season — we’re here. You don’t have to do it alone.