Three Dots Blinking

I was texting with a dear friend, and the humorous banter made me eager for his next reply. Staring at the three dots blinking in succession, I knew he was coming up with a witty reply, and I couldn’t wait. It seemed to take forever, but, as I sat there staring, I realized how often my conversations with God feel like that.

I’m not good at praying. Growing up in the Episcopal church, I felt my prayers needed to be read from the Book of Common prayer, or be as poetic as Thomas Cranmer. Eventually, I worried less about how I spoke and focused on what I was trying to say. I found it easier to speak when using my own words, expressing my deepest thoughts regardless of how raw or unpolished they were. I’ve also turned to writing in a journal in an attempt to get my soul to breathe, which, after all, is what prayer is.

The problem is, my prayer life so often feels like a monologue, like one hand clapping. I’ve never had a burning bush, nor been knocked off a horse (in the spiritual sense). While I do think God has spoken to me, it’s always in whispers. It’s never been as clear, or as often, as I would like. It’s felt like the three dots blinking, like God is on the other end working of His response, but it takes forever. I wait, staring at the screen, so to speak, but the dots keep blinking.

I’ll keep waiting.

A response will come.

At least, I hope it will.