In the weight of grief, it’s often the simple, daily moments we miss most. Rachel Wojo joins me today to share about the sacred moments in grief when God meets us in the everyday ordinary.
by Rachel Wojo
I can still feel the weight of Taylor’s hair in my hands. For many of her twenty-two years, every morning started the same way with me standing behind her chair or bed, separating those long strands into three sections and weaving them into French braids. She’d tilt her head forward, and we’d both settle into the familiar rhythm of getting ready for another day.
What I didn’t realize then was how sacred those ordinary moments were becoming.
Lord, help her feel beautiful today, I’d breathe as I smoothed each section. Give her comfort. Give us both strength. The prayers weren’t fancy or formal; they just flowed as naturally as my fingers through her hair. During those years of caring for Taylor, who lived with a terminal illness that stretched across more than two decades of our lives, prayer became as essential as breathing.
This awakening to God’s presence in the most routine parts of our day happened gradually in my heart. In the feeding, the bathing, or the countless small acts of love that filled our hours, I began to understand something: the sacred isn’t just found in Sunday mornings or quiet devotional times. God was right there in the mundane, transforming it into something holy.
When Taylor passed away on January 2, 2019, I thought those sacred encounters might be over. I was wrong.
God Shows Up in Laundry Rooms Too
Six years into this grief journey, I’ve discovered that ordinary days still hold extraordinary gifts. The difference is that now these moments carry both weight and hope, both memory and healing. God keeps meeting me in the most unexpected places.
I’ve never been a fan of doing laundry. Such a simple thing: gathering clothes, sorting colors, and folding warm fabric fresh from the dryer. But as I stand in my laundry room now, something happens.
The act of folding each piece reminds me of the victory Jesus must have felt when He folded the grave clothes and left them in that empty tomb.
The folding of ordinary clothes becomes a declaration that death has been defeated.
When I leave the laundry room, I often look out at the sky through my window and think of heaven. What used to feel like household drudgery now feels like remembrance and hope. The mundane has become communion.
Cleaning Taylor’s gravestone carries this same weight. I bring new flowers and carefully wipe away dust and weather stains from her marker. My hands move slowly, like I’m still caring for her. In this ordinary act of tending, God whispers reminders of His own tender care for us, His attention to every detail of our lives and losses.
Even wiping down kitchen counters has become a place of encounter. The circular motions and the satisfaction of a clean surface: these simple actions remind me that God is always at work, always cleaning and restoring. He is always making things new. Even in grief. Especially in grief.
The prophet Elisha understood something profound about God’s presence in ordinary circumstances. When his servant was overwhelmed by the enemy army surrounding them, Elisha prayed, “Open his eyes, Lord, that he may see.” (2 Kings 6:17, ESV) Suddenly, the servant saw that the hills were full of horses and chariots of fire. God’s army had been there all along.
I wonder how often we miss God because we’re looking for the extraordinary while He’s meeting us in the everyday.
During Taylor’s illness, I thought I needed dramatic healings or miraculous interventions to experience God’s power. But in the rhythm of her breathing, in afternoon sunlight across her face, or in the gentle way she’d squeeze my hand, that’s where I found His presence to be almost tangible.
Still in grief, I’m still learning to ask for eyes to see. God inhabits our most ordinary moments, transforming them into encounters with His presence. The challenge isn’t finding God; He’s already there. The challenge is recognizing Him in the laundry baskets and kitchen sinks of our lives.
This doesn’t mean every ordinary moment feels sacred. Some days, folding laundry is just folding laundry, and cleaning feels like a burden rather than a blessing. Grief is still hard. Loss still aches. The ordinary can sometimes feel crushing under the weight of what’s missing.
But when we ask God to open our eyes, these everyday moments can become lifelines. They become reminders that we’re not walking through this alone, that God is present not just in our mountaintop experiences but in our valley walks too.
How God Meets You in the Ordinary Moments
If you’re deep in caregiving right now, I want you to know that those prayers you breathe while doing the hard, they matter. God sees every gentle touch and every sacrifice. He’s present in the feeding and the bathing. He is with you in the sleepless nights and the worried days.
If you’re learning to live after loss, I invite you to look for God in your ordinary moments. Ask Him to open your eyes to see His presence in the tasks that once felt mundane. He may surprise you with glimpses of heaven in a load of laundry. Maybe you’ll hear whispers of hope while making your bed.
The sacred and the ordinary aren’t opposites; they’re invitations. Invitations to encounter the God who meets us right where we are, in our weakness and our strength, in our sorrow and our hope, in the beautiful, broken, everyday moments of our lives.
Open our eyes, Lord, that we may see.
After experiencing profound loss through miscarriage and saying goodbye to her beloved 22-year-old daughter, Rachel “Wojo” Wojnarowski embraced prayer as her lifeline. Her transformative “Three-Word Prayers” approach is a sanctuary for countless believers and her ministry stands on the unshakeable truth that prayer moves mountains. The author of Desperate Prayers and two forthcoming books on prayer, Rachel is a sought-after speaker bringing compassion and biblical wisdom to faith-based events. She lives in Ohio with her husband Matt and six children. Get Rachel’s free prayer class, “How to Be a Prayer Warrior for Your Family in Dark Times.”
