A few weeks ago, one of my dear friends said to me, of some of my recent blogs, "I envy your prayer life" or something along those lines. My first thought was to laugh and confess that I too envy my current prayer life! It isn't usually this way. I have too often in my life become one of those "pop corn" prayers kind of girls who shoots up praises and requests all day long without a sustained period of prayer time with my Lord. My sinfulness gets in the way of worship of my Savior. Ugh!`For the last several months, it has been different. And God has been different. I pray; He speaks. Literally. It is almost eerie it has become so real to me. I expect it now . . . listen for it differently . . . expect a miracle. There have probably been only two other times in my 40 years of living where I felt that same deep connection with God where we had a daily ongoing dialogue -- in both directions. It's my fault, I believe, because God is always there listening and waiting for that conversation. I fail to meet Him in His holy place. (sigh) That's disappointing!`Friday night, I met with God again. This time, I was in the middle of my Epsom bath soak (doctor's orders--ha) and began to pray for complete healing. God and I talked about it for a while. And then God brought to mind those healings performed by Jesus while he was here on earth. "Remember," God said to me, "People were healed by Jesus just by touching the hem of his cloak. Touch me, and be healed." It was interesting that came to my mind. I had never really thought about what a modern day healing looks like or how it might happen but there, in my relaxation, God said, "Touch me." Hmm.`After I was done, I was re-energized. I bolted up, threw on my jammies (ah...) and went downstairs. I put on some praise music and turned it up loud, and I worshipped. I sang and I danced and I threw my hands up to the Lord, worshipping. When is the last time I did that? Um, never. I'm too inhibited to worship like that. I'm too staid to worship like that, even alone. But Friday, in the privacy of my home, with my hands held high, heart open wide, and a reckless abandon that could only be called supernatural, I touched Jesus. And I'm believing Him for the miracle of healing. Now.