Every parent of every child may argue that any nap is a holy nap. And I wouldn’t disagree. I love napping children as much as anybody. But my kids are now 11 and almost eight, which means napping is largely a thing of the past. With one exception.

Almost every Sunday, shortly after the beginning of our church service, Isaac leans to one side, puts his his feet up on the pew, his head in one of our laps, and falls asleep. I’ve come to think of it as his holy nap.