I grew up in a family where prayer was a part of life. We prayed in the mornings, at every meal, in the evenings. Prayer was not only taught, but practiced.
I am ashamed to admit, though, that I took the gift of prayer for granted. Too frequently my prayers were offered in a perfunctory manner as I thanked the Father for blessings and then asked Him for yet more. I prayed, but I didn't truly believe in the power of prayer.
It wasn't until I was much older that I began to see prayer for what it really is: a two-way communication with the Father, where I could not only pour out my heart to Him but that He could and would answer me as well.
My prayers took on new meaning as I spent more time listening and less time talking. After offering a prayer, I spent time on my knees as the Spirit whispered to me. When circumstances rendered it impossible to get to my knees and utter a prayer aloud, I prayed silently and discovered that the Father's voice can be heard above the clatter and clutter of the world--if I but listen.
So, for today, I am grateful for prayer ... and for a Father who loves me.
I love the line from a hymn, "Prayer. . . is a Christian's native air". I do not come from a religious family, so I had to learn to pray as a convert. At first, prayer did not seem like my native air. I suppose that was because I had been breathing polluted air for so long! Now I find myself not having to remind myself to pray night and morning, but looking forward to that time. I also say many mini-prayers throughout the day without really thinking, "I'm going to pray now". I'm grateful for prayer and our loving Father who is patient with me while I learn how to speak with him.
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