Yesterday I overhead my 5-year-old in the kitchen with my husband, talking about prayer. Nonchalantly, he tells us that he talked to God today. We kept probing for answers. "Were you praying in your class with your friends?"
"Was it prayer time?"
"Where were you? How did you talk to God?"
He sighs, already getting annoyed at our over-eager questions.
"I was on the playground. In the slide. I said, 'Dear God, please help us to not hit or kick. Amen'."
He told us he was all by himself, and he didn't yell it or scream it out. He spoke "like this", and proceeded to imitate a normal tone of conversational voice.
My 5-year-old is teaching me about prayer. Why did I ask if it had to be a formal time or with others? We then said, you know buddy? You can talk to God at any moment, any second, all the time. That's what prayer is. Because you know what? He is always there.
On the playground slide.
In the hospital room.
On the road leading to the college dorm where you are letting go of your firstborn.
In the lonely days and nights.
And you just speak it out. Like a child.
And my growing boy is growing hope in this momma's heart.