I come here to pray

Daddy, thank you that you gave us prayer. It is so so good to be able to talk to you and listen to you. In a moment, any thought that you might be remote is blown away. Here we are, together.

It is a quiet Sunday morning. My son is asleep across the hall. I want him to wake up, because I feel hunger and do not want to eat alone as long as he is here.

I do not mind living alone, because my Father is with me all of the time, and we can talk. But when my boy is here, I like to be with him. I suppose while he was sleeping this morning, I could have gone out and mowed the front lawn. But I like to be here when he wakes up. And I can.

There is God in family. There is God in Christian gatherings. There is anointing of the Spirit on the music I am listening to. There is God in sharing meals together. There is God in traveling, observing the world, and interacting with the greater community, in love.

But mostly there is God in prayer. This is the best. Even if I say nothing. Especially if I say nothing, and I am still enough to hear. Daddy is willing to shout to get my attention, but I want to be still enough so that he does not have to.