Prayer

At the diner, a wood table, plastic tablecloth, a few longtime friends. We ordered. Then, as we sometimes do, we spoke with honesty about prayer in our lives … the how and when of words spoken to God … or kept silently within. Some of us pray words we know, others pray words as they are given. One man said this: “My work is my prayer. Where there’s need, I roll up my sleeves … a few minutes, maybe a few hours. When the work is done, I ask God if I did right. I don’t always hear back … but sometimes I do.”