When my dad prays or talks about God, there is a certain quietness about him, a stillness I don't think I have ever truly experienced. When he prays, I picture the people throughout the Bible that fell to their faces when they encountered God. There is just a complete submissiveness and humility he conveys when he is talking to God. I remember several times growing up, and even when I'm home on break, when the Channita family is gathered around the dinner table and he would pray for the food. It was a prayer I had heard probably hundreds of times and behind closed eyelids, my eyes would roll in my spiritual smugness and prideful piety. It was just another prayer to me. But I firmly believe it was never, and will never be, just another prayer for my dad.