Prayer is vitally important. It's how we commune with our Father-Mother God—our creator and preserver. In prayer we thank God for His blessings and care, and we praise Him for all the wonders of the universe. We're praying when we ask God for help and comfort and when we affirm His presence and limitless power. Listening is a big part of prayer—that is, our humble, patient listening for God's clear direction.

Christian churches include in their worship some form of the Lord's Prayer, given to us by Christ Jesus. Great comfort and healing can come from the inspiration and love expressed in this greatest of prayers. But often occasions to pray come when we're nowhere near a church, when we're busy with daily activities. How often I have thanked God silently or even out loud as I have walked to my car at the end of a workday. I have thanked Him for my work and for the opportunities to work with others—His sons and daughters—and for a beautiful day.

Quiet gratitude offered as we go through our day doesn't conflict with what Christ Jesus tells us: "When thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly" (Matt. 6:6). Indicating the spiritual implications of Jesus' command to enter the closet, Mary Baker Eddy writes: "In order to pray aright, we must enter into the closet and shut the door. We must close the lips and silence the material senses. In the quiet sanctuary of earnest longings, we must deny sin and plead God's allness" (Science and Health, p. 15).

But what if we're surrounded by distractions that would grab all our attention and claim to keep us from being able to pray? Sometimes our thought and circumstances can seem anything but a sanctuary!

I once found myself in just such a situation. I'm an art teacher. One day a few years ago, I was working with a class of about twenty-five students—sophomores through seniors. It was a beautiful warm day toward the end of the school year—one of those days when no one really wanted to be in school (especially a school with no air conditioning)! I was introducing a new project and planned to demonstrate the use of watercolors to the class. During the five minutes when classes were changing, I began to feel symptoms of a migraine headache. Right away I prayed silently to God.

As the students came into the room, I greeted them but found that I was losing part of my field of vision. I didn't want to call attention to the problem—which I knew could not be part of God's creation or of my real nature as God's purely spiritual expression. I went ahead with the normal routine of checking attendance and explaining the activities for the period. I had a strong urge to excuse myself and seek refuge in an empty office or some other private place where I could be alone in prayer. But I knew there was no other teacher available to take my class. So I continued to turn my thought to God in silent prayer and went on with the presentation.

In order for me to demonstrate the watercolor techniques as planned, I asked the students to come up to the front of the room around a small table, where they all could watch closely what I was doing. (So, instead of getting away from other people, I soon was surrounded by my whole class!) As the students closed in around me—making the atmosphere seem even more constricting—I declared silently to myself, "Nothing can be closer to me than God's presence."

I began to talk to the class about watercolor painting techniques, demonstrating the concepts as I went along. Of course, I wasn't talking every minute. During the quiet moments, as I was showing the class how to manipulate a brush in a particular way, I silently but vehemently declared spiritual truths to myself. I declared that God was right there with me, protecting me and guiding me. Even though it seemed I could see only about one third of the paper I was painting on, I knew that in reality I was God's spiritual idea, reflecting the all-seeing Father-Mother God. Because God, good, is All, nothing but good could affect me. God is the source of my life and my well-being; He loves me and everyone. It was reassuring to find that I could carry on my duties—surrounded by my students—and still, in that very situation, pray effectively. One of the immediate effects was that I felt all fear fading. In spite of the physical symptoms, my composure was established, and I felt the presence of God.

So the watercolor demonstration and my silent praying to God continued. I was sure of what I was teaching about painting, and I became equally convinced of the spiritual truths I was silently affirming.

The presentation lasted for most of the forty-minute class period. I was even able to answer questions from students along the way and still carry on my prayer. By the time I finished painting, my vision was almost completely normal. I sent the students back to their seats, since I had covered all the concepts that I had planned to show them. I quietly thanked God for His ever-presence and ever-availability. The healing was soon complete. The rest of the day was buoyed up with an awareness of having drawn close to God.

This experience was a real milestone for me. It taught me that we can pray anytime and anywhere. Not just when it's convenient or as part of a church service! And we're never separated from our closet—our "quiet sanctuary." Nothing—no matter how pressing or tedious it may seem to be—can keep us from working out from the oneness of God and man that is the basis for prayer. Even a moment or two of acknowledging spiritual truth and yielding to it brings reassuring glimpses of God's omnipotent love. And these flashes of revelation bring healing!