Letter to St. Nicholas

Re-blogged from The Cloistered Heart, 2011: 

Dear Saint Nicholas,

My wish this year is not like what I’ve asked for before.  I'm not writing to ask for candy or trinkets.  This year I have but one wish:  I want to be a candle.

I want to stand tall and firm, carrying the Light of Christ even when winds and storms lash about me.  You see, good St. Nicholas, the world has grown terribly dark.  We talk of peace and sing of peace, yet rumors of wars swirl all around.  We’re busy and distracted, we have no time left over to pray.  We get confused about what is truth and what is not; we redefine sin and call it “choice” and “entertainment,” and there is more darkness around than I could tell you about.  In fact, there’s more darkness than I can even see.  It can be hard to peer into darkness, and I feel sometimes like a child at night who wants to cover her head with blankets and wait for morning light.  I need the light; the world needs the light.  So I want to be a candle.

Like a pillar of flame standing beside the Tabernacle in a monastery, lifting firelight fingers high in adoration, I want to offer praise to God.  Like a sanctuary light gently calling attention to the fact that Jesus is with us, I want to keep vigil by His side and call attention to Him.  I would like to flicker softly, as a gentle reminder of His presence, no matter where I may be.  So I want to be a candle.

I know I am asking a lot.  I know that in order for the Flame to increase, a candle must decrease.  A candle gives itself for the Fire; it gives its all.  That’s okay.  You see, I want to live my life for God.  I am not so good at the doing of this, but with the grace of God I’m getting better at the wanting. 

And I want to be a candle….

“The light came into the world, but men loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were wicked.  Everyone who practices evil hates the light; he does not come near it, for fear his deeds will be exposed.  But he who acts in truth comes into the light, to make clear that his deeds are done in God.” (John 3:19-21)

Text not in quotes © 2011 Nancy Shuman.  
 
Originally posted at thecloisteredheart.org; reblogged at thebreadboxletters.blogspot.com.

This post is linked to Catholic Bloggers Network Monthly Linkup

public domain photo 

Letters Home

Some years ago, I undertook a little exercise of writing "Letters Home."  These were notes to various saints, talking of life in the world here and now.  I scribbled those somewhere in a long forgotten journal.  It was a helpful exercise of the imagination, but not entirely imaginary (I decided), since the saints are real people whom the Church declares to be in heaven.  We believe they can see us, hear us, and intercede for us before God.   Since I generally express myself better in writing than by talking, it was not much of a stretch for me to write to a saint rather than just "talk to" him or her.

My letters Home were a grace for me in several ways.  Mostly, they helped me remember that earth is not my ultimate destination.  They made me recall writing letters home from school in my teens.  School was not my home; it was where I had gone to learn and grow.

My journal of Letters Home also helped me remember that I live in a mission field.  I'm here not only to learn and grow holy, but also to help others do the same, in whatever little ways I can.

So - how am I doing?  In what ways am I making progress or falling short?  How did I (or did I not) share the love of Christ this week with my neighbor next door, or the woman who cuts my hair? 

I think it will help me to try a few more Letters Home.  And it seems that a blog entitled The Breadbox Letters might be just the place to keep this "mail," although I assure you I won't be doing it on a daily basis.  Maybe once a week, or even once a month?  We'll see how it goes.  And of course I could write directly to YOU, but, well... the thing is.... there are things I can shine up and polish for you if I wish.  But I can't gloss over something I write to a saint. 

I know this has been a long post already, but here goes a first try:

Dear St. Jane de Chantal,
     Just a quick note to genuinely ask your help with this "project" I'm starting on.  It is estimated that you wrote "no less than eleven thousand letters," so I ask you to pray that I write what Our Lord wants in these few I will offer.  You know how much I admire and identify with you, in so many ways.  Especially since, as a laywoman and mother, you envisioned a cloister within your own heart. 
    Eleven thousand letters?!?!!?!  All by hand, of course, and delivered by messengers traveling on horseback.  You should see the system we have here now.  You should see the systems we have of everything, but well, I'll deal with that another time.  About so much in the world of today, you would be frankly appalled.  But of course you do see, and of course you're praying.  May our good God help us to, as you might have phrased it, LIVE JESUS in this world, in this time, in this age of the Church.  
    God be praised!

This post is linked to Catholic Bloggers Network Monthly Round Up

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.

Now, about your future...

Letter of August 3, 1851

Dear Eusebius, 

"Well, you are wondering about your future.  Pray simply, humbly, and fervently to know God's will, and your path will be made clear.  Then you must follow the inspiration divine Mercy puts into your heart.....Now I want you to say to yourself: 'I am, above all, a man, a rational being, created to know, love, serve and glorify God.  I come from God.  I go to God.  I belong to God.  My body is His. My mind is His.  My heart is His.  I shall be judged according to my deeds, according to the way I have corresponded with the grace given to me.  Well then, by God's help, I shall use this body, this mind and this heart as much as I possibly can for His greater glory, honor, and love.'  Life well employed consists in this: a faithful correspondence to grace and a good use of the talents we have been given.  This rule of life applies equally to all."  (from St. Theophane Venard)

Painting by Rembrandt

Dear Little Lyre of Jesus,

1893 - Dear Celine,
    "There is a passage in the Canticle of Canticles which suits perfectly poor little exiled Celine.  Here it is:  'what do you see in the spouse except choirs of music in an army camp?'  Oh yes, my Celine's life is really a field of battle.... and nevertheless, she must sing.  Her life must be a melody, a choir of music....
    Celine is the little lyre of Jesus.  Is a concert complete when no one sings?  Since Jesus is playing, must not Celine sing?  When the tune is sad, then she will sing the song of the exile, and when the tune is joyful, her voice will make the strains of the homeland heard.  
    All that takes place, all the events of life, will be only distant sounds that will not make the little lyre of Jesus vibrate.  Jesus alone has the right to place His divine fingers on it; creatures are means, instruments, but it is the hand of Jesus that conducts everything.  We must see Him alone in everything...
    Oh, dear Celine, what pleasure Jesus has with His little lyre!  He has so few of them in the world; allow Him to rest near you; do not grow tired of singing since Jesus never grows tired of playing.  One day, up above in the homeland, you will see the fruits of your works...
    After having smiled at Jesus in the midst of tears, you will enjoy the rays of His divine Face, and He will still play on His little lyre..."                
                                                                          St. Therese of the Child Jesus

They Call Across all Boundaries

As I went in search of letters and collections to put "inside the envelopes" on this blog's sidebars, I discovered a particularly interesting book of letters.  A few paragraphs from the Introduction help me remember why I'm so enamored of letters by saints....

"As we read a collection of letters such as this, we make a discovery that opens up new horizons in the Communion of Saints and involves ourselves in a strange and intimate way.  It is that the members of Christ's family recognize and call to one another across all boundaries of space and time; whether they belong to the second century or the nineteenth matters little, for being united by the same love and bound by the same loyalties, they speak the same language.  The saints are not mere memories, over and done with; they are gloriously alive and present..."  (Felicitas Corrigan OSB, The Saints Humanly Speaking, Servant Publications, Ann Arbor, 2000, p.16)

"Follow the tracks of the flock, and pasture the young ones near the shepherds' camps."  (Song of Songs 1:8)

"Since we for our part are surrounded by this cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every encumbrance of sin which clings to us and persevere in running the race which lies ahead."  (Hebrews 12:1)

You've Got Mail!

As part of this blog's new look, I have changed a few pictures on the sidebar:  in particular, the envelopes (and stamps) that I've been using as "decorations." 

I realized, during my recent experiments in Minimal Makeover Blog Edition, that envelopes have a particular function.  They are used to carry messages.  They bring us greetings and surprises and bits of news.

What good is an envelope that will not open?  So now, ours do.  

To open your "mail," just click on any envelope or stamp in the sidebar.  Each will open to take you to an outside link (something other than this blog).  After you check it out, you should be able to get back TO this blog by clicking on the "back arrow" at the upper left of your screen. Each envelope or stamp will take you to a different letter or to a place where you can access writings that may be of interest to you.

But why am I sitting here yammering?  You have mail.

I Kiss the Faded Ink

Going through a few of my old letters tonight, I felt I was opening a long sealed treasure chest.  What a grand jewel is a letter!  Every one is a gift, a precious slice of life.

One letter among all the rest stood out as my favorite; no contest.  That would be the following from my husband, written while we were dating.  He was twenty years old. 

December 25...Dear Nancy, "Wanna know something?  Last night when we were at our respective midnight masses we were twenty miles apart, but really we were together.  We both heard mass and received the Christ child in communion - and that’s about the closest bond anyone can have - and the best!  I’d say we’re pretty lucky!" 

So would I, my darling.  So would I.  

"I listen and my hand thy letter presses; 

I, time-worn woman, touch it with caresses. 

I kiss the faded ink of its addresses."  

(Susan Emory, "An Old Woman's Answer to a Letter from her Girlhood")

A Thank You Note

USA, 2012: Dear Pen Friend, 

    Today's letter is from me. Just me.  Not me "and" anyone; only little old me.  
    I've received an airletter (the kind that's written in pen and gets delivered to a metal box outside the house) urging me to take good care of myself.  Because, said the writer, "I could not bear to be without my penfriend!"  
    I immediately thought back through years of correspondence.  Paul was only the beginning.  After him, there was a string of pen-pals.  One of these sent me copies (several years ago) of ALL of the letters I'd sent her over these many years.  I read them with laughter and more than a touch of nostalgia; also with the sure knowledge that only God could have turned such a scatter-penned youngster as I was into a writer.  "I have heard about the British 'Beatles,'" I once told her... "I hope someday I can hear their music."   "President Kennedy was shot, tell me if you've heard about it over there."   "I went swimming today and the dog died" (no connection between these last two events).
     I went on to write letters to friends and boyfriends.  To people met through writing and travels.  And now, as I thank God to have such a privilege, here I am clicking away on a keyboard to you. 
     I suppose you can consider this a thank you note.  Thanks for making a few mouse-clicks and opening this letter. 
     I pray (I genuinely do) that the Lord will take good care of you. 
     Because "I could not bear to be without my penfriend....."  

     Nancy

fix your eyes on...

France; 1600s: "Do not get all worked up about the future disasters of this world, which may never occur anyway; when and if they do occur, God will give you the strength to bear them.  Jesus commanded St. Peter to walk on the water but Peter, frightened by a gust of wind and the storm, almost drowned.  Then he pleaded with the Lord, Who said to him, 'what little faith you have - why did you falter?'  And putting forth His hand, He saved him (Matthew 14:31).  If God asks you to walk on the turbulent waters of adversity, do not doubt, do not fear, because God is with you.  Have courage and you will be safe." ... letter of St. Francis de Sales

"Fix your eyes on Jesus"... letter to the Hebrews 3:1

Castle Delivery

Spain, 9 September 1576:  "I can truthfully say that your letters are such a consolation.  When I read the one and thought there were no more, I myself was surprised by the happiness I felt when I discovered another one; it was as as though I hadn't received the first.  You should then realize that your letters are a kind of recreation for me." ... from a letter of St. Teresa of Avila  

Finding these words today, I was surprised (and delighted) to learn that they were written by the  same woman who said, in that very year, "While in prayer one day, I felt my soul to be so deep in God that it didn't seem there was a world..." (from 'Spiritual Testimonies') 

St. Teresa of Avila, as we know, was one of the great mystics of the Church.  She experienced extraordinary depths of prayer and left us a map to the Interior Castle.  If anyone was ever "lost in God," it was she.  Yet she found happiness in the pages of a letter!  Being a lifelong lover of correspondence, I am thrilled to know that this was the case.

I suppose my delight is because I am an "aspirant" to the Interior Castle.  I would like it to be my home, my residence, my permanent address.  

It's nice to know that even the Castle gets mail.  

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…..?

Pressed Ice

A recent breadbox expedition yielded the following treasure from "Jane"..... 

"I was feeling very discouraged with myself for not feeling a greater love for Jesus.  Theoretically I knew that the 'feeling' is a gift from Him and not an indication of our actual love.  But still I was concerned that I just didn't love Him enough.  Then I came across something St. Gertrude had written about experiencing the same fear.  She complained to Him that her heart was just a block of ice.  I couldn't get that idea out of my mind.  I implored Him to pick me up since I was just a block of ice and press me to His lips.  In that way, I would be able to refresh Him and quench His thirst.  That thought filled me with such joy, I went around all day rejoicing that I was indeed a block of ice, for as long as I am totally at His disposal, I can refresh Him.  Now when I recognize that He is keeping consolations from me, I just smile to myself - knowing that as long as I trust Him patiently, my piece of ice will bring Him greater joy by my submission to His will..."  (Jane)

a life sandwich

Dear Nancy, 
          What a journey my life has been.  Certainly not exactly as I envisioned, but I suspect this is true of everyone's journey.   Once we set out on a trip, we expect it will lead to our desired destination, but we do not see or even imagine all those interesting, delightful, challenging, painful, undesirable, hurtful, ugly, barren, surprising, exhilarating, enlightening details along the way.  We only dwell on the beginning and the end, which in a way is like a sandwich.  The beginning is one slice of bread, the ending is the other slice.  Obviously very essential to the sandwich, but by no means the main attraction.  And so it is with life.  We've got to embrace all of it lovingly to our hearts, the good and the not so good.  It all contributes to a wonderful life, a free gift from God...                             

Sister Mary Elizabeth VHM       

the tragedy of warm frogs

While on a recent "breadbox excavation," I came across the following letter from several years ago....

Dear Father Andrew, Have you heard the analogy of the frog in hot water?  The story goes that if you place a live frog in a pan of boiling water, he will jump right out.  But if you put him in water that's his own temperature, he'll happily stay there while you place the pan on the stove and slowly turn up the fire under it.  The frog, it is said, will cook to death without even noticing that the water is getting hotter.  Lately I've been reading about how partial birth abortions are done, and about such things as goddess worship in church services, and I think 'are we really so blind?!'  Can it be that people are not aware that the water all around us is almost boiling already?  It can feel pretty lonely to notice that the water is steadily growing hotter while so many around seem to be saying that this is exactly how the water should be and 'isn't it good that finally there is a bit of a warming trend'.... Nancy 

Through the Looking Glass

They're starting to arrive:  the cards, the notes, the updates from friends who cannot visit.  "I can't pop in for a quick cup of tea," the cards imply; "so I'm sending this in my stead.  Here's what's happening with us..."

It's one of my favorite things about Christmastime.  Hearing from people who take a few minutes to remember those who've been part of their lives.  Perhaps the years have separated us, maybe responsibilities have called us apart; in some cases we're victims of the "tyranny of distance."  But during the weeks surrounding Christmas Day, we reach out to one another almost as if time has stopped.  For me it does stop, if only for a few seconds, as I sit in the "lettered presence" of a friend.... 

"The accidents of life separate us from our dearest friends, but let us not despair.  God is like a looking glass in which souls see each other.  The more we are united to Him by love, the nearer we are to those who belong to Him."  (St. Elizabeth Ann Seton)

I sorry

Some breadbox finds are uncovered at the moment I need them.  Like this one, written by me several years ago.  I rediscovered it just as I was realizing I’ve been much too complacent about gifts God has given me: 

    “A few days ago I was putting a bowl of soup on my two year old granddaughter's high chair tray and she (having decided that she wanted nothing to eat) yelled ‘NO!!’  She slammed the bowl off onto the floor.  Then I knelt and proceeded to silently clean up the mess as she sat there in silence.  It took me several trips up and down to get more towels.  I worked matter-of-factly.  She sat very, very STILL.  She tried giving a little giggle, and I did not respond or look up.  Then she said, very meekly, ‘I sorry.’  I stood up and kissed her swiftly on the forehead and said ‘I forgive you.’  She watched me very soberly as I got her down, and we went on about our evening as always and all was well. 

    I keep thinking of that very sweet ‘I sorry,’ and it touches my heart.”

As I read this, I can almost imagine my heavenly Father saying, when I come to Him in repentance:  “I forgive you.  I have heard your ‘I sorry.’  And it touches My Heart.”

fighting fit and full of beans

I went on another breadbox dig and discovered something.  That is:  adventures in communicating bring smiles just when I need them.

USA

Dear Leena, 
   You said Minnie was ‘fighting fit,’ and I’m afraid this is an expression I do not know.  Oh dear.  Does this mean she’s not well? - Nancy

AUSTRALIA
Dear Nancy,

   I am sorry I did not allow for the fact that you might not know what ‘fighting fit’ means.  It means very well and ‘full of beans.’ Full of beans does not mean that one has devoured a can of Baked Beans for dinner, but it means that one is ‘on top of the world,’ which doesn’t mean one is sitting on the North Pole, but means that one feels as if one is ‘sparking on all fours,’ which doesn’t mean that one is a dog, a kangaroo, a squirrel or a chipmunk, but that one finds there are not enough hours in the day to achieve all one wants to achieve, so one becomes so frustrated that she goes in search of a toy to play with and discovers a yo-yo which is a thing on a string that one has to learn to ‘kinda bounce.’ Kinda bounce is a bit like ‘kinda dumb,’ which is what a favourite husband (namely yours) says when a car turns into his path and visiting Aussies gasp with ‘American fright.’ American fright is what Leena looks like when she gets out of bed every morning while visiting friends in the USA.

    I had better go and slam up a sandwich for lunch - Leena

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)