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Uncommon Conversations with God

Uncommon Conversations with God At a very early age, I experienced many troubles that left me confused and scared. When my fears loomed like shadows in the night, I retreated inside myself to escape. I knew very little about God, but I began to feel drawn to Him. At first, I was ill at ease. Those first childish words I spoke into the darkness were clumsy and awkward, but a small seed of hope began to grow inside me. I realized that when I prayed to my Heavenly Father, I found great comfort.

These prayers were expressed in both the extraordinary and everyday experiences of my life. As a mother, grandmother, employee, and friend, I have learned there is nothing too insignificant, nor too great, that I can't talk with God about. He is the best of listeners and speaks often to my heart. I am still learning, but hopefully I am a little wiser - knowing that the power of prayer changes lives. I hope these conversations touch your heart and inspire you to share all of your innermost thoughts with your Heavenly Father.

Excerpts from Uncommon Conversations with God

The Bag Lady ~

Dear God,

As I sat in the park yesterday, a lady appeared, bundled in a beige coat with mock-fur collar, though the day was sunny and the tree buds were straining to burst open like tiny jewels. The bag she clutched at her side was shabby and worn ... much like herself. Her tired face held no notable expression, but her eyes told her story. As she moved closer, I read in her gaze all the joy, passion, and tragedy of her life. I wondered if she lived on the street. Had she once loved deeply? Was her plump form once nimble with grace? Who cared for her now as she sat on park benches, feeding the squirrels? Her world seemed reduced to a tattered bag holding only a few possessions - perhaps some paled photographs to remind her of love. Suddenly, I felt a flood of insight. The bag lady was a symbol of life peeled down to the very core. I knew that the music of youth, eternal as it first seems, will someday bolt ahead and tap a new partner on the shoulder who can dance in step. Perhaps one day I'll fold my few possessions in a crumpled bag, along with my own faded photographs ... and remember love. Maybe I'll sit on park benches and feed the squirrels, and people will ask, "Does she live on the street?" And I'll smile to myself, because I shall be wise with age and know that You, in Your mercy, have a special place in Heaven for bag ladies.

"Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom." (Luke 12:32)

Bad Hair Day ~

Dear God ...

What a morning! First, I dropped a quart of milk on the kitchen floor, then the shower water was cold, and, of course, my hair wouldn't cooperate - no matter how much I primped and preened. And You know me, if my hair doesn't fall nicely into place, I don't feel quite right the entire day. I was already running late when my car wouldn't start, and I had to run to catch the bus to work. Of course, the running gave my already uncooperative hair a disheveled appearance. Once I boarded and took a seat, I was once more annoyed to discover that someone had opened the window next to the seat in front of me, and the wind nearly took my breath away. Now my hair truly was beyond repair. By this time, I felt pretty sorry for myself. But as things turned out, this "last straw" would lead to a glimpse of life through a renewed spirit. Just at the moment I felt myself sinking into self-pity, a young woman boarded the bus and took the seat in front of me. I watched as she struggled to close the open window. I finally reached over to help her. "Thanks," she said. "I'd hate to have this scarf blow off my head. People tend to stare. Chemo, you know." The rest of the bus trip I sat behind her feeling ashamed that I had been such a complainer. Thank You, Father, for putting me on that bus.

I thank my God every time I remember you. (Philippians 1:3)

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