I have only to walk into a room and it will light up for me; the wisdom-giver will catch my arm, the humility-teacher will pass me a drink. Someone will have just made an opening on a couch when I feel the need to sit, and the music is ever playing slow and easy, like the pulse of the hands of God, that I feel because they are so near.
The trick to praying is that you must ask for tranquility; enduring love, anchoring calm, a desire to work. You must be willing to listen to the signal when it is given. Mostly it is money, but sometimes it is a hug, or politeness to a stranger, or a question: “You look sad today. Is everything all right?”
Once it was a girl in the store when she should have been at school. One free cup of coffee revealed her loss and lost way.
Another time it was every dollar in my wallet, or a donation to charity. More and more it is a twinge in the heart, a sense of another’s dread, misery, or anger.
I do not talk, because sometimes they are angry at me for my peace, but God does not require that I preach, merely lead.
Prayer for me can be nothing more than the continuing request for wisdom, for a spirit that recognizes the gifts and never fails to appreciate them.
Without the awe, without gratitude, why should you continue to receive?