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?

Lying Awake

Too many “What if’s?” I lie awake and they flood me: What if the next blood test is bad? What if the mark on his leg is more cancer? What if I have to face this again? For him? For me? What if I lose my job? Will my friends make it through another round with me? It was hard on everyone last time; everyone worked so hard to help me and us. Under all of this is the big one: What if we don’t have time? What if we don’t get to live out the love and hope and fun we have looked forward to? What if he dies while his kids are so angry? Will there be enough time for them to reconcile and not out of guilt? What will happen to them if they are forced to choose guilt or fear? Is there enough therapy in the world?

I keep trying to find a solution to the unsolvable. I keep wanting to make the equation come out right. But I don’t know how to solve for X and I don’t know the formula for his happiness, my peace, his kids to be well. The shortcut terrible solution I offer him is go back, go back.

They will never know how many times I sent him home and he wouldn’t go back.

Lying Awake

At 4am I am awake. I look across my pillow and watch him sleeping. He looks like a boy. His short hair slicked back, his strong cheek bones and long nose make a sharp profile. He is handsome and he is asleep. I know that he is in pain but he will not say it. His mouth hurts but he says, “It’s annoying.” He is tired but he jokes and says, “Loving you keeps me awake too much.” It’s true we love each others bodies. But at this hour I am sad and I am scared. In two hours I will make coffee and he will shave, I will go walk and he will read the sports section, I will check my to-do list several times and he will check his email and phone. His sons do not call. They are still angry that he left their mother. She is angry too. All of that weighs on him. But for now—for this moment --he is asleep. I hope, for this moment, that cancer is too.