As the year draws to an end, I find myself more aware than ever of the changes it has carried. At the forefront of my mind is “AI,” Artificial Intelligence. While I think it’ll be helpful in some areas, it’s also made me crave and seek what’s real and authentic. Perhaps that’s why so many are turning toward the Catholic Church in these days—mystical, yes, but also so human (and all that means). Its wisdom, beauty, devotions, and liturgical seasons like Advent offer a grounding that no algorithm can replicate.
It’s hard to believe we’ve been pursuing Advent devotions as a family of four for this long. Tending little hearts is both challenging and beautiful, and I’m always amazed how the Lord molds my own through the humble vocation of motherhood. Over the years, we’ve hung ornaments on Jesse Trees, linked prayer paper chains across the living room, lit candles on the Advent wreath, and progressively sung “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.” Each devotion has been a way of teaching the children to wait, to watch, to prepare.
This year, we’ve added something new to us, but ancient in the life of the Church: the Liturgy of the Hours Night Prayer, also called “Compline.” Though it is a recent addition to our rhythm, Christian have prayed these words for centuries, joining their voices with the universal prayer of the Church.
The Liturgy of the Hours is the Church’s daily prayer and includes psalms, hymns, and scripture prayed at set times throughout the day. Night Prayer is the final office, prayed before sleep. It is short, simple, and deeply peaceful, making it perfect for families. It begins with an examination of conscience, inviting us to take a good and honest look at our day: the things we have done, and the love we have failed to extend. Then we pray psalms that entrust the night to God’s care, followed by Simeon’s Canticle, “Now, Lord, you let your servant go in peace.” Finally, we close with a blessing that asks God to guard us through the night.
For children, Night Prayer is accessible. They can read a psalm or join in the responses. For parents, it is a reminder that our shepherding is not in vain, that Christ is coming, even into the ordinary routines of bedtime. For all of us, it is a way of preparing our hearts for the Savior, not with noise or distraction, but with prayerful watchfulness.
I’ll admit, we stumble through it. Frequently, I forget the antiphon, or our voices fall out of rhythm. But somehow, in the stumbling, there is grace. Prayer is not about perfection; it is the turning our hearts to Him, “a simple look toward heaven.”
On the farm, night comes early in December. The animals are fed, the gates and coops closed, the fields resting under frost. As winter settles its hush over the land, only a lone dog’s distant bark threads through the bare branches. In that starry quiet, our family gathers to pray. I close my eyes and thank God. Oh, how holy, how heavenly it is to hear the uneven and bright voices of children praying.
In a year with so much emphasis on the artificial, Night Prayer has been a gift of authenticity. It teaches us to entrust our nights to God, and to prepare for the dawn of Christ’s coming. As we whisper the final words together, I feel the weight of the year lift, replaced by real hope:
Protect us, Lord, as we stay awake; watch over us as we sleep, that awake, we may keep watch with Christ, and asleep, rest in His peace. Amen.
