the other book... the one about prayer

I wasn’t going to say anything about this yet. It felt a little soon, after just telling you about the other book. But I keep opening a folder on my computer and looking at it, the way you look at a letter you wrote and never sent.

It’s a book about prayer. About how to pray, when you don’t quite know how. I’ve been holding it in my drafts for a long year.

I started writing it because of something I kept hearing... not just once, but for years. In our women’s study group, and in other rooms too. A quiet kind of confession, usually after everyone else had gone, or when we were stacking the chairs. I don’t know how to pray. Or, I do pray, but I never feel like I’m doing it right.

I heard it even when I went to Australia for a conference back in 2014. Different country, same soft voice. Women who loved the Lord and still felt behind in the one thing they thought they should already know.

I came home and started writing. Not a lecture. Just what I wished someone had sat down and told me, years ago, when I was the one lying awake and not knowing where to begin.

And then I put it away.

I’ll be honest... I didn’t feel ready to put my name on a book about prayer. Some mornings I still stand at the kitchen sink and only have one sentence. Lord, I’m here. I missed You. I thought a person who writes about prayer should have tidier words than that. So the pages sat. A long year, maybe a little more. I would open the folder, read a little, and close it again.

I’m learning, slowly, that that’s part of the point.

Prayer doesn’t need polished words. It never did. When Jesus taught His friends how to pray, He didn’t hand them a speech to memorize and get right. He told them not to pile up empty words, as if God were far away and hard of hearing. “Your Father knows what you need before you ask him” (Matthew 6:8). I come back to that a lot. It takes the performance out of it.

And later Paul wrote, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God” (Philippians 4:6). Not once you’ve found the right words. In every situation. Even the messy ones. Even the ones you can’t tidy up first.

If you don’t know how to start, maybe start smaller than you think. One honest sentence is enough. You can say it at the sink, or in the car, or lying awake at night. You can write it down in a notebook if saying it out loud still feels strange. I’ve done all of those. They all count.

The book is called The Art of Praying God. Hearts Notes is helping me with it... the same people who published the other one. It walks through how to find your own words, how to write a prayer, how to pray out loud when you feel a little foolish, how to pray with Scripture, and what to do when prayers seem to go unanswered. There are ten chapters, and a few short practices you can try in just a few minutes. It’s for women who are new to prayer, and for the ones coming back to it after it’s gone quiet.

I think of it as a companion, not a set of rules. Something you could keep on the kitchen counter, or by the bed.

I’ll let you know when we can get it out, so you can all enjoy it. I’m learning not to promise dates. But I wanted you to know it’s coming.

Now... I need to ask you something.

When I lost my old blog, I lost more than the posts. I lost the way some of you used to find me. I forgot the password, and the email, and that was that. I know a good many of you have been looking and not finding this little corner again. I’m not on social media. I never quite took to it, and I don’t think I will. My grandkids have been helping me with all of that... the computer parts, anyway. They’re kinder about it than I deserve.

So if you’ve found your way back here, I hope you’ll stay. Bookmark this page, maybe, so it doesn’t slip away again. If you have friends from your study group who used to read along, you could tell them where I am now. And if you feel like leaving a comment, I’d love that. I really would. I still miss those conversations.

A Prayer:
Lord, for anyone who doesn’t know how to begin... meet her right where she is. In the kitchen. In the car. In the quiet. Give us simple words, and the courage to use them.

Thank you for reading... and for finding me again.