Welcome. In case you’re new here, I’m Caitlin, a writer of all sorts of things—fiction, life, the occasional poem—but here on The Time Given as I write about grief and midlife, I’ve found the practice of writing & sharing collect prayers to be healing. Read more about collect prayers here, and you can find my growing collection here. Thank you for reading along.
It’s early evening and I mostly just want to curl up with my current read, A Stroke of the Pen1 by the late Terry Pratchett, my heated blanket, some golden milk, and my doxies.
But here I am, writing.
If only because I’m rebuilding my habit of writing about life and allowing the process to teach me.
I’m not one to fancy the muse, though I often want to be inspired. A blank page is scary, be it that for a story or a Substack post. But if my last year of daily habitual writing taught me anything, it’s that I can write without always being inspired. The words are in me. I just have to do the work.
And so tonight, I offer up a prayer.
Mind you, I’m no theologian, but for the last few months we’ve been attending a different church, one that follows the Christian tradition of liturgy and structure, something very, very different and new to me in my own faith and church upbringing.
But after sitting in grief the last few years, I’m finding the structure of prayer and liturgy to be a welcomed solace for my soul.
In December, my husband and I joined an Advent study at the church, which has always been a season I’ve been drawn to. We read through Advent: The Season of Hope,2 which helped me explore more deeply the traditions and prayers of the season.
During the study, we talked about collect prayers and how they’re thematic, focused on the teachings of the week through each liturgical season. In more theological terms, a collect prayer is “simply a prayer meant to gather the intentions of the people and the focus of worship into a succinct prayer.”3
This last week, as I caught up on one of my favorite podcasts, The Next Right Thing, Emily offered up two collect prayers at the end of an episode4 that were beautiful and spoke so deeply to my artist5 soul. I’ve since written them out and hung them above my desk.
She also described collect prayers in a way that my nontheologian brain could understand: “You start with a name of God, then you unfold the name. You make one request, then you unfold the request. And then you end with a word of praise, the amen.”
The back of my mind has been turning, thinking about collect prayers and liturgies, and on an evening walk a few days ago, this line came to me—O God of the gloaming, who ushers in the dark night speckled with stars.
I knew it was the beginning of a collect prayer, perhaps for a season of darkness, or grief, or wandering, and I want to offer it to you this evening—to pray, to hold onto, to have for when you need it most. May it bring you solace as it did me.
O God of the gloaming, who brushes the sky with darkness
yet still speckles it with stars.
Grant us hope when the night feels heavy,
so that as the light fades,
your comfort rekindles our hearts for tomorrow.
Amen.
I’m Caitlin, a writer, hobbyist, and creative who believes in the power of story, and that things like nature, wonder, faith, grief, hope, and art are worth our time and attention. I write stories for young readers centered around the themes of grief, belonging, loss, hope, and found families, while also exploring them in my own life, here on The Time Given. My writing here will always be free to read, but it does take time and heart space to write. Please consider supporting the work I do by giving a one-time or monthly donation, or by subscribing to my weekly writing.
This is an affiliate link to my Bookshop.org shop which gives me 10% when you purchase a book I share. This title is also a fabulous collection of lost short stories that are perfect for wintertime reads. I picked this one up thanks to my friend Shelby’s recommendation.
Also an affiliate link.
“What is a Collect?” Anglican Compass
Episode 307: “What Worked in 2023”
Because someone reminded me this week that books are art. Novels are art. And since I write books, I am, therefore, an artist. There’s surely a post coming about this revelation soon.
Lovely 😍 thank you for sharing! And I'm so glad you're enjoying his wonderful short stories!
This is beautiful--will be saying this prayer myself :)