Will You Pray with Me?

fingers-and-keyboardI am home again today, still fighting off the crud bug–nothing life-threatening, but leaving me very flat.

But I cannot resist the writing  bug, even in my present uncomfortable position. Why do some things call out to us even when we are faint of heart or weak of mind?

I want to think it is some piece of my DNA, my spiritual DNA, that drives me to the keyboard to ruminate a bit on life. Perhaps.

And perhaps it is simply a desire not to be forgotten by someone, anyone, out there who checks in to read what I write. Or the desire to connect, even if only online?

Whatever it is, I am glad to be able to do this, even, frankly, if no one reads. But it is better when someone reads, and even better when someone responds.

I appreciate dialogue, believing God made us to communicate with each other and with God.  Writing is a form of prayer for me. Sometimes hands on the keyboard feel like praying hands. Thank you, God, for helping us to pray, in all our myriad ways.

Friend, will you pray with me?