Maybe when it came to prayer, there wasn’t some minimum or quota; some right or wrong way; some preferred pose, volume, tone, words, opportune moment, or ideal setting. Maybe I did not even have to say anything profound. Maybe I did not even have to say anything at all. And neither did God. You cannot have intimacy without relationship, it occurred to me, or without shared silence. Maybe there was something to this prayer thing. Articulating my needs whenever I needed to (and especially whenever I did not think I needed to)? Burrowing into my want and coming through it transformed? After all,
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