2:47 a.m. and fully awake again. I had options – try and go back to sleep, lie still and stew until dawn, or take it to Father. I fired off questions, requests, demands and sometimes-angry ravings heavenward, but seldom, very seldom, waited or listened for His reply. I needed to quiet my heart and patiently listen, yet even during the most intimate conversations with God, listening was not my strong suit. I poured out my soul, but my mind then packed up and journeyed elsewhere, missing the reply. Father knew this and was always patient, recently urging me to get up and write down my prayer as well as His response. There was no discernible voice, no thunder or burning bush, just a simple flow of thoughts, encouragement, discernment, assurance and often-gentle reproach.
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