I grew up hearing people praying. My sweet mama took the time every night to come into our bedrooms and say bedtime prayers with us. I had two grandmas that could pray down heaven, both with very different prayer styles. One never failed to call every family name on the paternal side of the family and the other would have a daily fiery prayer meeting in the back bedroom that penetrated through the walls of the house into the outside woods. They were talking to the Lord and leaving their burdens, cares, and needs with Him when they left the prayer meeting. It’s a mantle I have taken up and continue to wear.