Last night I took a brief walk around my park in the evening light. I feel like I'm still physically recovering from massive sleep deprivation at Creation (gotta fix that next year!), so yesterday was largely a lazy day. Getting outside for the last bits of sunshine (which have been sorely missing this summer!) and a little bit of movement was what I needed.
As I was walking on the sun-dappled sidewalk, enjoying the fresh, clean breeze and the setting sun warming my back, I opened my heart for a conversation with God. My pastor once preached a sermon about praying, and talked about how he didn't FEEL like he was a "Pray-ER." In actuality, though, he was a man of prayer--he just believed the lies that he didn't pray enough, good enough, etc. That resonated with me because I've always felt like I'm never communicating with my Savior enough or appropriately. It also sticks with me because God completely debunked that myth in my life, and I just need to remember that when the lies come at me.
ANYWAY, I opened up a conversation with God. Sometimes I don't know where these things are going to go, or if I'm going to hear His side of the conversation that day, or what. Yesterday... Yesterday was quite clearly a two-way conversation. I started praying and just sharing my heart with Him. Immediately, I KNEW He not only heard me, but was right there, feeling the pain and the joy that I felt--whether right or wrong--simply because He is my Father.
I was reminded, also, how well I know the voice of my Father. Some people think that if they don't hear a booming voice that terrifies even the trees around them, they probably aren't hearing from God. I've never heard that before. Ever. My heart knows, though. My heart knows that when I'm in the middle of expressing my thought and I already hear the response? That's the voice of my Savior. When that response echoes the promises and love reflected in Scripture? That's the voice of my Savior.
Yesterday I had a conversation with my Jesus. All around the park we walked. He didn't answer my main questions, but He did answer some of them. Enough to surprise me, and make me wonder about how majestically He works. He doesn't paint His pictures the way I would, that's for sure. But at the end of life, if we compared His masterpieces with my fingerpainting... His would reflect more colors, more life, more beauty that we could possibly comprehend here. Mine would be... well, a brown smear, at least in comparison to His.
So I will be patient for His answers to my questions to work themselves out in time. OK, maybe not patient. I'm not so good at that part. But I WILL wait. I will seek. I will keep asking. And I will be in awe of His good works.