Like No Other Bread

'The Bread which comes down from heaven is such that he who eats of it never dies. I myself am the living Bread that has come down from heaven. If anyone eats of this Bread, he shall live forever. And now, what is this Bread which I am to give? It is my flesh, given for the life of the world.' (Jesus, in John 6:50-52)


Painting: Jan van Kessel, 1670

Where Have all the Stories Gone?

I have been asked, on several occasions, where this blog's "stories" have gone. I used to write them frequently, oh yes I did. True and Amazing accounts of mailing letters in my mother's breadbox, of blatantly disobeying on my first day of school, of blue velvet ribbons on purple cake. I even wrote about my earliest romantic adventures (...what? You say you missed that one...?) and I've shared a number of serious, prayerful reflections along the way. 

I still "write,"and much of that can be found at my other blog, The Cloistered Heart. And I hope to continue rambling over here also, from time to time. However, nothing matches what the saints have said over the centuries. And certainly no words come close to those of Sacred Scripture. What incredible treasures we have in these!

As for me, I'm a personal fan of not-too-lengthy blog posts. I like finding a nugget, a thought, a few words of inspiration to send me on my way.  From what some of you have told me, you do as well. It is my hope that Breadbox Letters can continue sharing little bits of saints' wisdom as we go through our (often hectic) days.

But for those who wondered where all the stories went, I've gathered links on a stand-alone page, with little snippets and thumbnails of each, so we can find what's what. I will continue linking things I run across in our archives.

Thanks for being here (do I thank you enough? Nope - I couldn't possibly!). It's SO GOOD to know we're on this Homeward journey together! I thank God for you daily - I absolutely do. 

Along the way, if you should want to find longer reflections - or occasional touches of silliness - our new Stories page can be found just under the blog header.  Or, of course, by clicking here.

May God bless us, every one.    



Sebastian Stoskopff painting, digitally altered

A Legacy of Letters

July 21, 1897

To Sister Therese, 

     I have your photograph, and henceforth you live in my mind, after having up to the present only lived in my heart.  I am expressing myself poorly.  Try to understand, however, that your letters, your thoughts, take on a body, a form; they are no longer strictly abstract, they are you now.  I had really tried to build up your features in my imagination, and I must tell you I was not too far from the reality, at least regarding the general outline, so that when seeing you for the first time, I recognized you....

     Maurice Barthelemy-Belliare

I sometimes wonder what it will be like to meet the saints face to face.  Amazing thought, isn't it?  Patrons, intercessors, special friends in Heaven that we've grown fond of over the years - we'll be able to see them!   Will we recognize them?  Oh, I think so.  I do not expect formal introductions; I have a feeling we'll be joyfully embraced.

As you know from this blog, I love letters and writings the saints have left us.  To me, these are markers along the path for those of us still climbing toward Home.  They are also a means of getting to know members of our eternal family.  I often feel that a saint is directly addressing me, offering guidance as I face challenges, encouraging me to persevere.  "Come on, you can make it!"  "I faced obstacles too, you know, and this is what I did."  "I wasn't always saintly... let me show you what and how I overcame..."

We indeed have a rich inheritance.  I thank God for those who passed it on to us.  It is they who have left for us the real Breadbox letters.  I pray we will spend eternity praising (with them) the One True Bread of life.

we have mail

Did you ever stop to think about how much of the New Testament is made up of letters?  Letters!  In the Bible!  Letters that give us personal glimpses into the lives of Paul and John and Peter... (“Get here before winter if you can”…  “When you come, bring the cloak I left in Troas with Carpus, and the books…” ). Letters that weave such very human requests right in with sentiments like “I have come to rate all as loss in the light of the surpassing knowledge of my Lord Jesus Christ...”  (Philippians 3:8). 

While the Bible is the most important source of letters to guide us, we can also find inspiration in letters of saints.  Such writings “embody an art and style of their own, an unselfconscious art that tends to hide itself, and a style that is closer to the dialogue of spoken language….with the power to be formative for both writer and reader.” (Wendy Wright and Joseph Power OSFS, Francis de Sales & Jane de Chantal Letters of Spiritual Direction, Paulist, 1988) 

With this in mind, I’d like to begin probing just a bit into our legacy of letters.  I’ve enjoyed the breadbox excavations we’ve engaged in so far; they’ve brought smiles and perspectives and some food for thought.  I like sharing photos (and will definitely continue to do so), but my interest right now is toward diving more deeply into the Breadbox.  I have a feeling its depths are beyond what I had imagined.  

I hope you’re up for a bit of exploring.  After all, who knows what might be waiting right behind the Wonder Bread…..?

Noticing

Several of my breadbox treasures speak of what a friend calls the "gift of noticing."  This woman and I are both nature lovers, and we've learned that we don't have to flee to woods or seashore or mountains to find touches of God's amazing handiwork.  A marvel might be right before our eyes, if we only look out a window and notice what is there.  Raindrops shimmering on a leaf.  The coo of a dove nearby.  Crisp autumn leaves blowing across a city sidewalk....

One autumn when I was in a time of sadness, this friend wrote: “You notice the way the sun sets earlier these days and how it reflects nicely on a window at a certain hour.  You and I, we are fortunate to have this gift of observing the constant giving of nature, because in a way it sustains us.  I often think that God gives us nature to observe so as to learn from it.  How things bounce back… how spring always returns after winter, how there is always something beautiful even in the midst of the coldest winter day, like a sparkling icicle, the quiet glimmer of a winter moon, or holly berries covered in snow.  Even in our suffering, it seems that we tend to ‘see’ some beauty in life; it is part of who we are.  It is a great gift.”  

A great gift, indeed.  It is my belief that we all have this gift, a present from our God Who gave us a colorful, ringing, singing world.... and senses with which to notice. I hope to take a moment, today, to notice and be thankful for something God has made.  

Photo  © 2010 N Shuman, all rights reserved

some breadbox excavations

Going through “the breadbox” these last few days, I’ve been touched all over again by correspondence I’ve received.

Some letters illustrate truths.  “During the earthquake, a friend’s crucifix fell off the wall over her bed as she was sleeping.  She just grabbed it and held on.  I thought ‘and that’s how it is to be.’  During all the upheavals of our lives, we must hold on to HIM.” 

Some sweep me away to faraway places.  “G’day from the windswept, rain drenched north of the capes.  We’ve been out to the rocks, and watched the beach disappear under the hiss, froth and bubble of unrepentant waves…”  

Some bring a laugh.  “Our local government decided to override the people regarding time change.  Some of the objections to daylight savings time were:  Curtains fade with the longer hours of daylight.  Cows get confused about the time to come in for milking.  Now, I ask you…?!?”

In days to come, I’d like to share some rediscovered treasures.  I hope you’ll come along!

bigger than a breadbox

"If I ever write an autobiography," I said to my husband one day, "I should call it 'Bigger than A Breadbox.'"  He smiled in agreement, having known for years about my childhood breadbox letters.  He'd also witnessed the widening of my world when a 1993 magazine article brought me mail, introduced me to people in unexpected places, and took us both (eventually) to the other side of the earth.

I've written many letters since the ones I penned (or more likely penciled) to "Paul." I have been blessed to receive quite a number as well.  Some of these I keep in a breadbox, one almost identical to that in which I mailed letters to long-ago-Paul.  In weeks to come I hope to share a few excerpts from these, for they are wise, often witty, and many times profound.  They make me glad I once practiced writing at a breadbox. For who knows?  Maybe it was "Paul" who actually made me love writing letters.

In that case, I suppose the breadbox has yielded a return…

(photo © Nancy Shuman; all rights reserved)

Why a Breadbox?

My writing began at a breadbox. Mother’s metal breadbox, 1950s vintage with a pull-down front door - it made a dandy mailbox. Just the right receptacle for letters to Paul.

Paul was my make-believe husband, the kind that’s appropriate for an eight year old girl. I invented him for my growing family of dolls. Paul was never around, but that was no problem… I simply enlisted him in the Air Force. Did I have envelopes on hand for his letters, or stamps? Maybe not, but again: no problem. I could always get paper, and I could fold, and color, and draw.

“Dear Paul how are you I am fine. We have a new baby her name is Babs. I will put this letter in a envalop so youll get it soon.? I will write if we get another baby.”

Letter finished – letter squeezed into crack at top of breadbox door – letter sent. Letter left waiting in the darkness, stuck between Hostess Cupcakes and loaves of white bread.

Fast forward many years and here I am again, at the breadbox. I have no idea how many recipients of my letters there have been between Paul and......

…..well: you.

Now that I think of it, this is the first letter I’ve mailed in a “Breadbox” since Harriet was serving Ozzie’s dinner on primetime TV. I’ve written so many letters in the meantime that my husband (the real one) once remarked that I could write them for a living. I’ve also written articles, a book, and a multitude of journal volumes in the years between breadbox and blog. But the thing is: I prefer letters to any other kind of writing. I like the spontaneity of a letter; I like the randomness. I like finding out what I’m thinking when I see it appear on a page.

And with that, I welcome you to check out the breadbox. I hope we can visit again in a day or two. I will tell you now that I’ll be chatting about prayer, and about what it means to live for God in the midst of a busy world. And who knows what else might be dashed into the mix?

For now, this first letter is finished. Squeezed into a tiny crack in a corner of the Internet. Left waiting in cyberspace, somewhere between a blog about cupcakes and one with a photo of white bread.

Letter sent.

© 2011 Nancy Shuman.  All Rights Reserved. thebreadboxletters.blogspot.com


(painting on this post, by Henriette Browne, is in United States public domain)