My image of Jesus, up there on the altar in jammie pants, during my Adoration hour, has been challenged by the wisdom of someone older and wiser and holy in a way that I can only aspire toward. When I shared my fear (irrational, I know) of falling asleep during my crazy-early (or crazy-late, it depends on whether you’re a half-full or half-empty kind of person) hour of Adoration, as a way of rationalizing my always-reading, always-busy time during Adoration (which is really nothing more than the stage of my spiritual maturity), he replied, in his kind way, with a stroke of Irish humor: “Ah, but can’t you see Jesus as a grandfather, with his beloved granddaughter nestled in his arms, and can’t you see the look on his face as he gazes down at her, so glad to have her asleep there, in his arms?”

How’s that for reframing the question?