Grace

I'm not an especially religious person. My wife isn't either, though she's occasionally toyed with the thought of taking A. to the local Unitarian church, if for no other reason than to introduce her in some way to various perspectives on religion. That would be fine, but I'm not the sort of person who would be inclined to participate. I grew up vaguely Catholic, and I've never felt a strong urge to be anything less vague. I don't have the time or the determination to be an atheist.

I've mentioned before that my daughter recently switched to a new day care provider, located at a Catholic social service agency. She's been quite happy with the transition -- she's learned some new songs, made some new friends, made some new art projects, and so on. And then the other night, as we were sitting down for dinner, she showed us something else she's picked up at "school." Before digging into whatever mound of cheese and pasta we'd assembled, she folded her hands and began whispering, "Thank you, thank you thank you." My wife and I were a little surprised, but it was quite honestly one of the most adorable things we'd ever seen.

I'm not going to encourage or discourage her from believing anything about religion, and while I'd prefer her to share my skepticism, I'm quite happy to see that she's expressing -- or mimicking -- a sense of gratitude for, or to, something. Given that she spends most of her time these days trying to boss her parents around, it's something, I suppose, to know that she's not barking orders at a God I'm not sure actually exists.

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