Recently, I was at a health care facility leading a Liturgy of the Word and Holy Communion service for the residents. They sat in their wheelchairs like the front rows of the little chapel. As everyone gathered, we visited, talked, and welcomed back a few who had recently returned from a hospital stay.

We began with our opening song, and within just a few minutes, one of the residents drifted off to sleep—a “holy dozer,” as Thérèse of Lisieux once called it. Her quiet napping turned into a soft purring snore.

During these services, this often happens. A resident dozes for a bit, then wakes and joins back in. But this time, it seemed to bother the woman sitting next to her.

Many of these residents are in their late eighties or older. They rise early, wash up, get dressed, eat breakfast, and make their way to the chapel. By 10:15 in the morning, after all that effort, it makes sense that a nap might feel necessary.

As I read the first reading, I watched the woman beside the dozing resident gently poke her, trying to wake her. During the responsorial psalm, she nudged her again, this time a little harder. Still, there was no response. The woman was simply tired.

Then, during the Gospel, I watched her lean over a third time and whisper her friend’s name and shake her shoulder. In that moment, I thought of Thérèse of Lisieux and her own “holy dozing.”

After reading the Gospel, I paused, stepped away from the podium, set aside my prepared reflection, and spoke from my heart.

“Sometimes one or more of us dozes off during this service. Please don’t feel embarrassed or ashamed. We are in good company.”

Then I shared St. Thérèse’s story. Theresa often worried because she would fall asleep after Mass, after Holy Communion, or while praying the Rosary. It troubled her so deeply that she wondered if she was worthy of remaining in the convent. But later, she found peace and wrote in her autobiography:

“I should be distressed that I drop off to sleep during my prayers and during my thanksgiving after Holy Communion. But I don’t feel at all distressed. I know that children are just as dear to their parents whether they are asleep or awake…”

I told them, “If you find yourself drifting off, remember this: we are in a holy place. It is perfectly normal to feel such comfort and safety in our Father’s arms that, like a child, you might fall asleep there.”

After that, no one poked the person beside them. No one whispered to wake them. Instead, everyone relaxed, rejoiced, and rested together in God’s presence.