I was raised Roman Catholic.  I was taught to pray to God, to Jesus, to Virgin Mary.  One night when I was having a sleepover at my Granna’s, I pretended to be asleep, and from my bed, I watched my Granna kneel down beside her bed and pray, the traditional way.  The palms of her hands in prayer beside her heart, her head bent down in reverence. I can’t recall hearing what she murmured to God that night, perhaps her whispers were too muffled or my memory has faded. I prayed every day, usually at bed but often during the day.  I lived on a farm, so I found areas…