A few days ago, a friend here had her baby. And to celebrate I went for a sail, alone, on a little catamaran on a little nearby lake. I was alone with the water, the wind and God. And He and I talked.

Once, months ago, Marie and I talked about how being pregnant and feeling your baby moving around inside your belly, is like having two conversations at once, or like living in two separate worlds at the same time. All the while you are living your life, doing your shopping, talking with people, you are having a quieter but also very real conversation with your baby: You’re awake now. Ooo, that’s a big stretch for such a little person. Why are you playing hopscotch on my bladder? No one else hears, no one else knows, and there is nothing else quite like that sweet intimacy. The duality of those two simultaneous conversations, one very normal, one very private, is probably the one thing I miss about being pregnant.

So it struck me, as I was sailing around on the little lake, talking to God, that our life with Him can also be thought of in terms of the same metaphor. Prayer life, at its best, is a private conversation that I have with Him as I go through the normalcy of everyday life and have the conversations of every day. Oh, Lord, thank you for that tree, it’s so pretty. Lord, Help me speak a kind word to that person; I don’t want to. Lord, I’m sleepy now, thank you for bringing me safely through another day. 

I am like the little unborn baby, stretching my muscles, jostling, hiccuping, banging on the walls. And as I do, I am talking to my Father through all the moments, quietly
telling Him about stuff that no one else will hear. He listens, He loves me and He answers me quietly with words just for me. 

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