Praying without Words

A couple of days ago I didn’t pray

I didn’t say help, or thank you. I didn’t tell the Lord, 

I remembered that when I am weak, 

He is strong.

At the end of the day

I collapsed into the flannel sheets and 

never said one word to the Lord of my life, 

the One who holds me, holds all, 

the approachable Jesus 

who gave sight to the blind, 

caused the lame to walk, 

raised the dead to life, 

became hope for the desperate.

I started to confess my lack of prayer to a friend

in a text. She mainly knows me as someone who prays, 

who believes prayer is needful---

as needful as drinking water, 

and sleeping.

My prayer life has hiked up and down 

mountains. I love the mystery of prayer. 

There are days when my prayers are mute. 

Prayer sits in silence and waits. A dove coos in thicket.

The Lord is near, my Redeemer. Do I dare say, 

Friend?

Friends can sit with one another

without speaking and

find each other’s presence

to be enough.

I remember someone complaining

at church about a hymn, or a chorus that 

referred to God as a friend. She said it sounded

so casual to call God friend.

Maybe she leaves God in heaven? 

But my God helps me find my keys and 

rides around with me 

in the car.