Prayer from the Still Space Between Years

Divine One,

as this year comes to a close,

I pause to be with You

in that still space between

what has been

and what is yet to come.

I bring You

the year behind me,

with all its joys and sorrows,

clarity and confusion.

When I look back,

I see that

sometimes I was steady

and sometimes I was not.

I see that

anytime I slowed down,

anytime I dared to breathe

and listen,

I found you waiting for me.

The Church this year

felt much like my own heart,

hopeful in places,

heavy in others.

It began as the Jubilee Year of Hope.

The invitation was wide and joyous.

It reached the young and the old,

the strong and the weary,

those full of questions

and those holding on by faith alone.

Then came moments of grief.

When Pope Francis died,

I felt the quiet ache of loss,

even from a distance.

His passing reminded me

how much I lean on familiar voices

to steady my faith.

Welcoming a new shepherd

stirred both hope and uncertainty in me.

I found myself praying more simply then,

asking only that Your Spirit

would guide

what I could not predict

or control.

So much suffering

pressed in on everyone this year.

You will remember how often

I did not know what to say.

When children were hurt

I turned to prayer

to ease the pain.

It was the only way

to keep my heart from closing in on itself.

Other disappointments

stirred even deeper questions.

Conversations about

women deacons in the Church

left me demoralized

and disillusioned.

I brought that unrest to You too.

Through it all

Your grace

worked quietly,

in people who showed up

for one another,

in parishes that kept

gathering and praying,

in communities and organizations

that refused to give up on love.

Teach me

how to wait

without growing bitter.

How to hope

without demanding answers

on my own timeline.

How to trust

that You are still at work,

even when progress feels

stalled or hidden.

Remind me that

the Church is not

simply an idea or

an institution.

It is us,

fragile,

faithful,

searching,

and still held.

As I step into a new year,

I place my hope in You again.

Not a loud or hurried hope,

but a steady one.

You carried me through

this past year’s shadows,

and I trust

that You will continue

to light the path ahead.

Help me remember

the wisdom I have been given.

As my dear friend reminds me,

Do not run ahead of grace.

Trust that the grace

I need will arrive

when I need it,

not a moment too soon

or too late.

In the year to come,

shape my heart.

I want to be

more attentive,

more compassionate,

more willing to listen.

I want to root my hope

more deeply in You.

Help me find

a quiet confidence

in Your presence,

even when the

world feels sideways

and the path

feels uncertain.

And keep reminding me,

that even now,

your grace is already

leading me home.

Claire Henning