The little church in which I grew up set aside time in the worship service for silent prayer.
We would bow our heads and quietly petition our Father.
After a moment or so the organist cued us to finish the prayer and we sang in unison:
"Hear our prayer O Lord,
Hear our prayer O Lord,
Incline Thine ear to us,
And grant us Thy peace."
It was just a song we sang. A way to make sure no one fell asleep, or worse, didn't pray silently on and on while the rest of the congregation fidgeted in embarrassment.
Then the song fell out of use. I haven't heard it in decades. But one day, preparing my little boys to pray before we started our school day, it hit me.
We approach the creator of the universe, the One who knows intimately every hair on every head since the beginning of time, the One who formed and recognizes every pebble and blade of grass.
He is the One who describes the earth as His footstool and who holds all creation together by the power of His Word, who is working out His plans throughout every kingdom and nation and ruler.
That's the One we asked to take time and listen to a scattered homeschool mom and 3 jelly-stained boys.
The song came rushing back. The small congregation of my childhood had been asking for what we need every day.
Like small children we tug at the hand of our busy father, urging him to bend his ear close.
And the God of time and creation stoops with love and affection and says,
"Tell me what you need, my little one."