One Of The Strangest Prayers I've Prayed

The past week I have spent my reading time before bed getting wrapped up in some of the most interesting books I've ever read in a while:

my journals.

I've been re-reading entries I've written over the past eight years. And let me tell you, in all seriousness, they have been page-turners. Better than some novels I have read. I should probably publish those babies and make some serious money---if not for the utter humiliation they would bring me.

Some of the entries were quite lovely---filled with beautiful prayers written carefully in my best penmanship, thoughtful poems, and original song lyrics---things I would even re-read when I need to give myself some encouragement. I wrote some of the same thoughts over and over----requests for God to bring me to the other side of the most recent heartache, or to help me with the music I was learning that week. Other entries were, well, not quite so poetic.

Take my entry on Friday, February 12, 2010, for example. Like most of my entries, it simply began, "Dear Jesus." I wrote the entire first page about deep fears and emotions I asked for healing from. It migrated into prayers and concerns about a future romantic relationship (if I ever have one). Near the end of that prayer, on page two, I had written these words in neat pencil:

"I don't want to have to baby-sit a guy."

I laughed out loud when I read those honest words last night. I tried to think back to what was going on in my life that impressed me so strongly I had to sit down and write that particular sentence in a prayer. But I knew what the words meant---how I feel strongly averse to relationships and friendships that are high-drama and more about placating a person than having a mature, genuine relationship. I easily pictured myself sitting up in bed that winter night, writing by lamplight, and wearily praying, "Please, God! I already work with 25 kids a week! If I ever get a guy, can he please not be a 'boy,' but won't you send me a real man!"
  
I wonder if God chuckled when I first prayed that prayer, maybe just an understanding chuckle. After all, I still feel that way. It wasn't a pretty prayer. It wasn't eloquent or poetic or Psalm-like. But it was still a prayer. Wouldn't God rather hear from me in language that isn't fanciful than to not hear from me at all? Wouldn't he rather me truthfully exclaim, "Baby-sitting grown-ups drives me crazy!" than for me to keep my most honest thoughts from him?

I think he would rather hear from me.