Every morning, I drive my boys to school. It’s a short, familiar route, but there’s one particular moment in that commute that has come to mean much more than just a turn in the road.

There’s a spot where we veer East—Ad orientem as it’s said in Ecclesiastical Latin, meaning “to the East.” I discovered this not from a map, but from experience: at certain times of year, the sun blazes through the windshield with such intensity that if I’m not already fully awake, I am definitely jolted into alertness right then.

One morning, as I reached for my sunglasses, something clicked. The phrase Ad orientem popped into my mind—used traditionally to describe the eastward orientation of Christian prayer and worship. At that moment, almost instinctively, I turned down the radio and said, “Hey boys, we should pray!”

And so it began. From that day on, every time we hit that sunlit stretch, we enter into prayer together. It’s become a daily ritual, one that centers us, reminds us who we are, and why we begin our day this way. If you don’t already have something like this in your routine, I’d like to share ours. Maybe it will bless you the way it’s blessed us.

Our Morning Car Prayer Routine

  1. The Sign of the Cross, accompanied by:
    “O God, come to my assistance. O Lord, make haste to help me.”

  2. The Glory Be

  3. The Morning Offering
     We include names of people we want to pray for—friends, family, anyone on our hearts.

  4. The Angel of God (Guardian Angel Prayer)

  5. The Saint Michael Prayer

  6. The Angelus
     Traditionally prayed at 6 a.m., noon, and 6 p.m.—we include it here as a reminder of the Incarnation.

  7. A Litany of Saints
     We call on our Confirmation saints and a few others who are special to us. You can choose your own—or here’s a list of Patron Saints you might find helpful.

  8. The Sign of the Cross (again)

  9. Dad’s Signature Sendoff
     I give each of my three boys a fist bump and say, “I love you, boys!”

Yes, it’s a lot. But you’d be surprised—it takes less than five minutes. And it’s become a cornerstone of our family’s rhythm, even on Sundays as we head to Mass. Even my wife—who might not normally go in for a fist bump—lets me sneak one in on those days.

This ritual began with a burst of sunlight through a windshield, but it’s grown into a moment of clarity, connection, and grace in our otherwise busy mornings. Maybe your “East” looks different. But wherever it is, I encourage you to find that moment—and make it sacred.

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