I crept into her room to say goodnight and she sat, kneeling on her bed, eyes closed and head down.
"Our Father...I pray..."
I toil with religion on an infrequent basis, but with her attending Catholic school and returning home with Latin songs, tales of Daniel in the lion's den, and a bunch of memorized prayers, it's become more present in my mind.
I have yet to find a place where I feel comfortable balancing the beliefs of the church and my own personal truths in such a way that brings me spiritual peace and understanding without the many formalities of religion that I personally despise.
As I continue to redefine the role of religion and faith in my life, I am attempting to break down each ritual to its core.
So when I take away the Our Fathers, the Hail Marys, and the genuflecting, I'm left with a chance to acknowledge my greatest hopes and my darkest fears. I'm expressing my thanks and owning my faults.
And I'm giving myself a chance to sit still for just a few moments and take everything in before it all flashes quickly past me.
That may not be how prayer is intended, but like accepting that you've got a problem, owning your thoughts and speaking them out loud is the first step towards acceptance and making them come to fruition.
So what are the chances that I'll find Michael Vartan wrapped up under the Christmas tree this year?