Sleeping with Bread

A favorite book of mine is called, “Sleeping with Bread” by Dennis, Sheila and Matt Linn. It’s about a simple discernment process that the Linns teach—helping us to see what matters and what brings us joy.

My favorite part of this book is the story that gives the book its title. This is the story:

“During the bombing raids of World War II thousands of children were orphaned and left to starve. The fortunate ones were rescued and placed in refugee camps where they received food and good care. But many of these children who had lost so much could not sleep at night. They feared waking up to find themselves once again homeless and without food. Nothing seemed to reassure them. Finally, someone hit upon the idea of giving each child a piece of bread to hold at bedtime. Holding their bread, these children could finally sleep in peace. All through the night the bread reminded them, “Today I ate and I will eat again tomorrow.”

I love everything about that story –the problem and the simple solution. I can relate to the persistence of old feelings and fears—and how any kind of deprivation can cast a long shadow.

Each time I read it I ask myself: What am I trying to hold on to now to meet a need that was in the long ago past? Are all my shoes a kind of “bread”? Old relationships? Old ways of relating to others? And what new bread might I ask for and hold instead? Bread is a spiritual metaphor in every faith—so what “bread” can I hold onto instead of shoes, scarves, resentments, fears, jealousies and my own cozy ego?

What Really Matters?

There are many strategies for discernment. Many spiritual techniques and practices taught by experts in psychology, spirituality, even management. But there is nothing like seeing an irregular mole that wasn’t there yesterday to snap my mind into, “What really matters?” I go into mental triage: What now? What later? And while it is a bit paranoid and a kind of self torture to always be killing him off like this —it is also a gut compass that points me to the truest truth about what matters to me and who I am—good and bad—if his cancer does return.

Ring Thing

We are looking at rings. Commitment? Engagement? Promises? It raises all kinds of questions. Am I too old for this? Not old enough? Can a woman in her fifties still get engaged? Is engaged better than married? (I think so) Am I doing this for myself or for other people? (Hmmm not totally clear) Who are those other people? (Oh, I see.) If there were no “other people” would I still want this? Want him?

Memento Mori

The ancient Romans used to carve “MM” on the bases of statues and on the trunks of trees. The letters stand for Memento Mori: Remember Death. This was not intended to be morbid but to be a reminder that life is short and death is always near. It was a tool for perspective and discernment. Philosophers and writers might keep a skull or bone on their desk for the same reason. Carlos Castaneda recommended that we learn to live with death on our left shoulder and to consult him on our daily decisions.

Maybe it is one of the gifts that cancer gives. Death is close in Cancer Land. You look at the person you are caring for or you notice it in the others you see at chemo or in hospital. Ordinary doctor’s visits are never the same. You never know when a routine check-up will lead to that phone call, “The doctor would like you to come in for another test” or “I’d like you to see a colleague of mine.”

Can we accept death’s presence for the gift it is? Given that death is part of our lives and we see it, what really matters? Given that I will die, what do I really want?

Mmmmmm.

Discernment

The teacher talks to us about discernment. She says that discernment is always a choice between goods. In true discernment either choice is for something good: Go to Mexico or Go to Italy. Marry him or remain on your own. Study art history or study theology. Each one is good but you cannot do both. How to discern?

Some discernment advice:

Get the facts: Are their financial implications? Health requirements? Prerequisites?

Talk to smart people: Talk to those who have done these things.

Then live for two weeks as if you are making Choice A: I will marry him.
How does that feel?
Then live for two weeks as if you are making Choice B: I will leave him.
How does that feel.

Get quiet. Very quiet. Listen for God’s still, small voice. Stay quiet and pray.
What do you really want?