Hey Father, guess what!

This morning as I mechanically knelt to say a prayer to start the day, the Spirit brought a recent experience to my memory. A couple of weeks ago I was feeling particularly lonesome for my grandson Jeramy, who lives in California. I really wanted to talk to him and hear how he was doing in his new home and his new school.

I texted his mom and made arrangements for him to call me Sunday night. Now, we have phones, and we could call each other almost any time, but they are busy and I am busy, and we just don't take the time. So we arranged to talk at eight o'clock.

As the time grew close, I made sure my phone battery was charged up. I plugged my headphones into the phone to make sure I could hear clearly. I made sure the phone was on, and then I waited. Eight o'clock came and went, and my phone didn't ring. I tested it to make sure that it was working. Sometimes my phone has a habit of missing calls. I rebooted it to make sure that it would be ready. But there was no call and no message.

Then I got a text from my daughter that Jeramy would call after he finished dinner. Nine o'clock came and still the phone had not rung. I gave up hope and thought, well, perhaps tomorrow we'll talk. And so I started getting ready for bed.

And then suddenly the phone rang. A thrill of excitement went through me. I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was my daughter's number. I answered, and I heard Jeramy's voice. Ah, it was a sweet moment to hear him say, "Hi, Grandpa".

The conversation

Normally, Jeramy, who is five, is not a prolific conversationalist. I have to ask a lot of questions to get him to talk. I try to ask open-ended questions that require more than a simple yes or no. He often just nods his head and doesn't elaborate, which does not translate well over the phone. But I have to keep the open-ended questions simple so that he can answer. So I avoid big questions like "What did you do today?" and ask focused questions like "Tell me one thing you did in preschool today."

This particular night, though, Jeramy was ready to talk. He began each subject with the introduction, "Hey Grandpa, guess what?" Then he would wait for me to respond, "Tell me what, Jeramy." Then he would tell me something about his Skylander game, or his new cousin, or what he ate for dinner. He even asked me what I had done that day. We had a marvelous conversation for about twenty minutes.

He exhausted his "guess whats", and it was his bed time, so we wrapped up the call. I told him that I loved him very much, and I heard those sweet words in response, "I love you, too, Grandpa." And then we hung up. My heart overflowed with love for my little grandson as I lay down that night to sleep.

God wants to hear from us

As I pondered that little memory this morning, every moment of which is etched in my heart, it occurred to me that my Heavenly Father was waiting to hear from me. I have been a long way from home for what seems to me at least to be a very long time. He misses me. He wants to hear my voice. He wants to know how I'm doing.

He has given me the gift of prayer, and he has promised to be listening on his end any time I want to call. But I'm busy, so I don't always take the time. I limit myself to a couple of times a day, when I rise in the morning, and before I retire for bed in the evening. I'm pretty regular about it, but sometimes I miss.

Now, I'm sure Father has his battery charged up, and his headphones are in, and his phone is in perfect working order. I think he waits anxiously every morning and every evening for me to call in. When I am late, or I get busy with other tasks and don't come to prayer right away, perhaps he wonders if I will forget altogether this day. But then I kneel down and fire up my standard prayer, and he looks at the caller ID and says to himself, "Oh, good. It's my son David. I have so looked forward to hearing from him today!"

I don't think he is disappointed when I offer up my poor little pathetic mortal prayer. Sometimes I feel him prompting me. "What did you do today?" he asks. "Did you notice the beautiful sunrise I created for you?" "What did you think about that verse in the scriptures that I caused to jump out at you this morning during your study?" "How did you feel when I prompted a friend to say hello?"

Occasionally, but not often enough, I am astute enough and spiritually awake enough to see blessings without being prompted. I say, "Hey Father, guess what? I smiled at a stranger today." "Hey Father, guess what? I helped a co-worker with a problem today." "Hey Father, guess what? Evelyn and I had a great conversation today about the gospel. I really felt the spirit, and I felt a great love for my sweet companion. Thank you for sending her to me."

I am not particularly concerned with the topics that Jeramy wants to talk about. Whatever is on his five-year-old mind is ok with me. I do not expect to debate the philosophy of existentialism with him. I do not expect to hear a well articulated exposition of Newtonian physics. I just want to hear from him, hear about whatever makes him happy and whatever might be weighing on his five-year-old heart. I just want to know that he remembers me and that we are still best friends. And I want him to know how much I care about him.

We remember him

Heavenly Father is no different. He doesn't mind that we do not know everything that he knows. He understands that our perspective is limited, and that we are blinded by mortality dust. He already knows us better than we know ourselves. He knows when we are happy and when we are hurt. He knows everything there is to know. Nevertheless, he still wants to hear from us. He wants to know - and more importantly, he wants us to know - that we remember him and we love him. And he wants us to know how much he cares about us.

That is what true prayer is about. It is not mechanical. It is not a thing to check off our list at night, like brushing our teeth, before we go to bed. It is about staying in touch with the One who loves us more than we can ever imagine in our little five-year-old hearts. It is about having a best friend who simply wants to share in our joys and our sorrows, who aches for us, and wants more than anything in the universe for us to come home to him.

It doesn't matter what we say or how we say it, as long as it is real and genuine and motivated by love. "Hey Father, guess what? I love you."