Conversing with God is not the same as talking to myself

Day 13. On my drive home from the Quad Cities tonight, I mistook the clouds for mountains. I must be missing my other home. I love the mountains of Pennsylvania, but I’ll never be able to say that the plains of Illinois are boring. I’ll always find something beautiful about acres and acres of farmland.

I had a great evening watching a theatrical Christian production of Snow White as a parable for Christ and the church. The drive there and back was a little lonely. I miss the small talk my husband and I share, although even if he were in the same state, he wouldn’t have gone tonight. Ladies only. But I miss being able to “download” about my day or discuss whatever happens to be on my mind. I try to store up all the thoughts I’m thinking that I want to share with him, but I know they won’t all make it into conversation with him.

So, I find myself conversing with God more. Telling him the things I normally tell my husband, and feeling a little weird about it because doesn’t He know all this stuff already?

Maybe that’s another perk of this separation, developing my conversation skills with God. Just as long as no one mistakes me for a crazy person talking to herself. Then again, maybe that’s not so bad after all. Christians are a little bit crazy.

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