The Quiet Courage of Not Yet: Waiting for Answered Prayers
I almost didn't write this. But I have been sitting with something this week and I think it matters.
It was late, after midnight, and I was standing in the kitchen in the dark. The house was quiet. Everyone was asleep. And I was standing there with my hands on the edge of the counter, trying to find the words for a prayer I have been praying for a long time. One that has not been answered yet.
I do not know what prayer you are carrying tonight. Maybe it is for a child who has wandered. Maybe it is for a marriage that feels fragile. Maybe it is for a health diagnosis that did not come with a timeline. Or maybe it is for something you have been asking for so long that you have stopped saying it out loud.
I know that kind of prayer. Most of us do.
Teaching Children to Trust God When the Answer Is Not Yet
The hardest part for me has not been the waiting itself. It has been watching my children learn to wait. They see me pray. They hear me ask. And they are old enough now to notice when nothing changes.
My teenager asked me once, straight across the dinner table, "Does God even hear that prayer? Because nothing is happening."
I did not have a perfect answer. Being honest with them is the only thing that works. I do not pretend to have answers I do not have. I tell them that I do not know why some prayers take a long time, but I tell them what I do know. I know that God loves us and that He has not forgotten us. And I know that the waiting is not empty. Something is happening in the waiting, even if we cannot see it.
I think about the children of Israel in the wilderness. They wandered for forty years. They did not get to see the promised land right away. But God was with them in the wandering. The manna came every morning and the cloud covered them by day. He did not leave them alone in the waiting.
That is what I want my children to know. That the silence of God is not the absence of God.
What I Learned from a Third Grade Classroom
I used to teach third grade. I remember the children who would raise their hand before they had the answer, just to be called on. They wanted to be seen. They wanted to be chosen. And I would call on them, even when I knew they were not ready, because I wanted them to learn that the trying mattered more than the getting it right.
I think about that now as a mother. My children are raising their hands to God. They are asking and they are waiting. And I want them to know that the asking itself is not wasted. That God sees the raised hand and that He is not ignoring them. He is teaching them something in the delay.
The most important growth I have ever experienced did not happen in the moments when my prayers were answered quickly. It happened in the long spaces between. The spaces where I had to keep showing up, keep trusting, keep putting one foot in front of the other without knowing where the path was leading.
I wrote about this in The Sacredness of the Messy Middle: Finding God in the Unfinished. The middle is where the real work happens. The answer is not the point. The becoming is the point.
Dealing with Spiritual Exhaustion and Faith in the LDS Church
There is a particular kind of tired that comes from praying the same prayer for years. It is not the tired of a long day. It is the tired of a long hope. The kind that makes you wonder if you have the strength to keep asking.
I have felt that tired. I have sat in church with a smile on my face while my insides were a question mark. I have sung the hymns and meant the words and still felt the weight of the silence when I got home.
Here is what I have learned. God can handle the honest version of us. He does not need us to have it together. He does not need us to pray a perfect prayer. He needs us to show up and tell Him the truth.
Be still, and know that I am God (Psalm 46:10).
I have been thinking about that verse a lot. Be still. Not be strong. Not have the answer. Not fix it. Just be still. And know.
The stillness is not passive. It is active trust. It is choosing to believe that God is who He says He is, even when the evidence of the answered prayer is not there yet.
How to Maintain Hope When Prayers Are Not Answered
I have started doing something different in my prayers. Instead of asking God to change my circumstances, I have started asking Him to change me in the middle of them.
"Help me see what You are doing here. Help me find the small mercies. Help me not to miss the good things that are happening while I am waiting for the big thing."
It has changed how I see the waiting. I am not ignoring the pain. I am not pretending the hard thing is not hard. But I am looking for the evidence of God's presence in the middle of it. And I am finding it.
A text from a friend on a hard day. A moment of unexpected peace in the middle of a hard week. A scripture that felt like it was written for exactly where I am. These are not the answer to the big prayer. But they are proof that God has not forgotten us.
I wrote about this in The Sanctuary of the Small: Faith in the Ordinary Rhythms of Home. The small things are not a consolation prize. They are the evidence of a God who is present in the waiting.
Frequently Asked Questions
How do I tell my children that a prayer was not answered the way we hoped?
Be honest but hopeful. Do not give them overly simplified answers. Acknowledge the sadness of the situation. Then testify of what you do know. Tell them that God loves them and that He sometimes has a different plan or a different timing that we cannot yet see. Your honesty will teach them more than a polished answer ever could.
How do I keep from feeling like my lack of a miracle is a sign of my own lack of faith?
Faith is not a currency you use to purchase a specific outcome. Many of the most faithful people in scripture experienced long delays and unanswered prayers. Focus on your relationship with God rather than the result of a specific request. The relationship is the point. The outcome is in His hands.
What is the best way to pray when you feel like your prayers are hitting the ceiling?
Be authentic. God can handle your frustration, your doubt, and your tiredness. Instead of praying a perfect prayer, pray a real one. Ask for the strength to endure the silence. Ask for eyes to see the small mercies in your current circumstances. The most powerful prayers I have ever prayed were not the polished ones. They were the honest ones.
How can we as a family find peace while we are still waiting for a resolution?
Focus on the small and simple things. Create rhythms of gratitude and connection that are independent of the outcome you are seeking. A family gratitude journal, a weekly check-in, a shared prayer that asks for peace rather than answers. By finding joy in the present, you prevent the waiting room of your life from becoming a place of stagnation.
I am still standing in that kitchen some nights. Still holding the edge of the counter. Still praying the same prayer. But I am learning that the waiting is not wasted. God is in the middle of it with me. And He is teaching me something I could not have learned any other way.
with love, Melissa