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I struggle with consistency in prayer. I have the best intentions — I dive in earnestly with a new routine, mean it — and then fall out of it after a short while. When I stop praying for a day or two, I feel it. My faith weakens in ways I can't fully explain. Getting back feels harder than starting did. And some days, if I've gone long enough, it feels close to impossible. This cycle has followed me for years — and I keep choosing to break it, because I know I'm never going to fill that particular thirst in my soul without it. I'd start strong, and then life would happen. A kid would get sick. Work would get loud. A week would fill up with extracurriculars. Three days would pass, then a week, and then the guilt would settle in — that particular guilt of returning to my Father with my head low, no real excuse I could make sense of, fumbling through the usual justifications anyway. I don't think the problem was discipline. I think the problem was that I struggle with consistency when life gets hard — and right now, it has been a hard season. Which means prayer has been harder too. If you've been in this place — like I have, many, many times — this post is for you.
What I've found brings more consistency to my prayer life is journaling. I've tried it a couple of ways: sometimes a simple blank notebook is best — no printed dates, no pressure to do things any particular way, just pouring your heart out to God on the page. And sometimes something with a little more structure works better. For me, the tactile act of writing does something to my brain and soul that sitting in silence does not. I struggle with stillness — it's not a comfortable place for me, though I'm learning, slowly, because I know God speaks loudest in the still, small voices and movements of our day. But when I write, the act of putting pen to paper while I'm thinking gives my body something to do, and that lets me actually focus on my Father. The silence stops feeling so loud. I'd add the caveat that prayer journaling doesn't work for everyone. But it works for me. And having something physical is part of what helps me remember to come back — what helps it become, eventually, a habit. If you crave routine, a planner-style journal is probably your thing — dated pages, structured space, a clear rhythm to follow. If you're more like me — someone who needs just enough structure to know where to start, but also needs the grace of an undated page so missing Tuesday doesn't derail the whole week — that's a different thing, and it exists too. One thing I've learned: a prayer journal that only works when life is peaceful isn't really a prayer journal for most of us. Structured prompts and extended reflection sections are beautiful in theory, but demoralizing when you have ten minutes over your lunch hour. My journal needs to meet me in the ordinary. The domestic church isn't a chapel. It's a kitchen and a car and a Tuesday afternoon I didn't plan for.
The hardest part, for me, was just starting — and then starting again after I'd stopped. Here's what helped. Start small and specific. Pick one moment in your day that belongs to prayer — even five minutes. Before the kids wake up. During a lunch break. After everyone's in bed. It doesn't have to be the same moment every day. It just has to be a moment. Write to God, not about God. The most alive entries I've written aren't theological reflections. They're direct: I'm tired. I don't know what I'm doing. Here's what I'm afraid of. Here's what I'm grateful for. Honesty is prayer. Let it out. Let it be imperfect. St. Teresa of Ávila had periods of spiritual dryness that lasted years. What she wrote about them is some of the most honest prayer writing in the Church's history. The mess is part of it; or if you’re like me - much of it. The other gift of prayer journaling is what you hold six months later. I can go back and find that answered prayer, or that thing I was struggling with that God has since done so much with. It becomes a record of your own walk — which is a strange and quietly beautiful thing to hold.
After a lot of reflecting on what I actually needed, I made a journal that works the way my brain works. It's called Rooted in Prayer — A Catholic Woman's Prayer Journal, and I want to share it honestly, for the woman who prays the way I do. Each week gets its own spread — simple, unhurried, always the same. One page for the whole week, which means if you miss a day or two, you're not behind, you're just resuming. There's a place to write your prayer intentions, and a section called Surrender to God — I leave a lot there. A daily check-in runs Monday through Sunday — just one line per day, which is the right amount when life is full. There's space for the Scripture you're sitting with that week, and a spot for feast days so the liturgical calendar stays woven into ordinary time. (In weeks without feast days, I'll be honest — I cross it out and use the space for whatever else I'm sitting with.) Five lines for gratitude, because coming to God in thanksgiving changes something in me, and sometimes writing out five things is what finally helps me receive a hard week. And at the bottom, one question: What is one way God met you this week? Some of my most surprising answers have ended up there. It's a printable PDF — 8.5×11, print as many times as you need. A physical paperback through Amazon is coming. If it sounds like something that might work for you, you'll find it in my Etsy shop.
I can only speak to what I've used myself — but these come up often enough that they're worth knowing about: Blessed Is She journals — warmly designed, scripture-forward, with a strong community behind them. The Magnificat monthly missal — widely recommended as a companion for building a habit around the daily Mass readings. [add Amazon affiliate link] The Catholic Planner by Cultivate What Matters — more planner than journal, but the spiritual reflection sections are well regarded. [add Amazon affiliate link] Or a blank notebook and a pen — simple as that, and honestly one of the ways I still pray.
The most common thing I hear from women who want to pray more is that they've stopped, and they don't know how to start again without starting over. I feel that. I have been that person, more than once. Don’t overthink it - just say an Our Father, or a Hail Mary if you don’t have the words. Or, just let out what you are thinking about and surrender it to God in a simple moment. Or, the beautiful Orthodox prayer that I’ve now learned - the Jesus prayer - so simple and beautiful: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Once you get back into prayer with a consistent routine, even if it’s really small at first, it not only becomes easier - but you honestly just feel better - all the while you’re growing in relationship with Him.
Rooted & Whole is a Catholic women's brand offering honest writing, printable resources, and curated recommendations for faith, family, and the everyday. Some links in this post are affiliate links.