Prayer is nothing else than being on terms of friendship with God.

—Sister Teresa of Avila (1515 – 1582)

“You wouldn’t mind praying for me, would ya?”

It never fails. That question is posed and I experience a rush of feelings. One of those feelings is honor. The other is surprise. The third is a deep connection and an openness that other interactions rarely promote.

And it happened this week in the produce depart of a local grocery store.

A lack of milk for my cereal loving boys and the need for just a few other basic items lured me away from my easy chair and into the cold night air to do a quick grocery shop midweek. Once there, I remembered that I most enjoy shopping either early morning or late at night. The store is quiet and the pace unhurried. I can compare prices with no distractions. I can also talk to employees and friends who happen to wander by.

So I bagged some lovely Washington-grown Braeburn apples and hurried over to grab a bunch of bananas. As I added to the fruit and vegetable selection in my basket I visited with a young man sweeping up after the masses of produce hunters.

We got to talking about our lives, and before I knew it he was asking about one of the most intimate parts of one’s life: The time I spend talking with God about most everything.

I remember the first time I was ever asked to pray out loud with a group of people. I was a high school freshman and the request terrified me. As a youngster, I had prayed carefully memorized children’s prayers. But I had never before put into audible words the musings of my heart. I did not want to lose my train of thought or say completely unintelligible things. I felt a rush of hot, my heart pounded, and I ran out of breath momentarily. But I survived the anxiety and prayed, purely and simply.

I learned at that moment how precious and tender are our prayers. How vulnerable is the person who gathers the courage to make a need known. How trusted you become to take their request and pray on their behalf.

So this week I was honored to learn of the prayer request of a grocery store employee and I promised to remember that conversation all week. What a privilege to tell the God of the Universe about the hopes of a young man courageous enough to share with someone old enough to be his mom. To enter his life. To join in a chorus of human voices who give breath to joys and fears and hopes.

Perhaps the most wonderful aspect of prayer is that it activates our interaction with God. When we pray, we are submitting to the notion there is actually a living, interactive God to hear the things that mean the most to us. And after we have given breath to our prayers, we have more cause to look for His answers. Waiting to see what He will do takes on a edge of excitement.

Conversely, I believe that the interaction is a desire of God as well, even if our prayers are full of anger and tears and uncertainty.

Praying can also be restful and therapeutic. It forces us to stop, think about our situations and sort out the details. We can put into words anything we are experiencing. There is nothing off-limits. God can take it all.

I know many who journal or blog their prayers, with a focus on content and identifying topics and experiences that may encourage and guide others as they face their own life circumstances. If this idea sounds inviting but you are unsure how to get started, open to the middle of the Bible and take a look at the book of Psalms. If you’re technologically inspired, visit www.BibleGateway.com and check out The Message Bible this week. The common language may draw you in as never before and you will see how David and the other ancient writers poured out their true feelings to God, feelings that moved from total despair to utter joy. Chances are you’ll be able to identify similar experiences in your own life.

Prayer is unifying. When we know the prayers of those around us, it breaks down our own sense of isolation. And if you’re struggling, still wanting to discover the purest form of prayer, scoot close to a child and listen or Google children’s prayers on the Internet. One of my most treasured moments as a mother occurred when I observed my then 3-year-old son fold his little hands and utter these solemn words at the dinner table:

God is great, God is good,

let us fank him for our food.

By your hand we all be fed,

give us Lord the baby’s bread.

Amen.

There is no doubt in my mind God got the point.