My husband buys bread as though our six sons are still at home. Multi-grain. Rye. Hamburger buns. There’s only so much toast, so many sandwiches the two of us can eat in a week. “The birds want their seeds back,” I told him, “so either make a weekly trip to the food pantry or stop buying more bread than we need.” But again I see a partial loaf on the counter with a sign: for the birds.
I tell you this because my active, healthy husband was recently diagnosed with a serious heart condition. I believe he will be healed but these are trying times. We both have wonderful families and lots of friends who support us. They call or text or email. They bring us food. They offer to do anything we want, to give us anything we need. Their love is part of the daily bread I ask for when I pray the Our Father. But sometimes, my daily bread gets stale.
A fresh slice gone hard came my way when a friend, a former Catholic, visited us shortly after an emergency room visit. After the excitement of hello and the expected health questions, he asked something I didn’t see coming. “I know you two are Catholic,” he said, “but do you feel ready? If the worst happens, are you sure you’ll go to heaven? You know what I mean?”
I knew exactly what he meant. “Yes, we are born-again as you like to say,” I told him, “through infant baptism and age-of-reason confirmation. But we don’t believe that makes us shoo-ins for heaven. Everyday we make deliberate efforts in words and actions to be worthy of heaven. We know we fall short, but we believe Jesus knows our hearts and will have mercy on us. So yes, we plan on going to heaven because we work towards it everyday.” It saddened me that after all these years of friendship he still considered our Catholicism a substandard faith, that he still didn’t see the value of Catholicism for both my husband and me.
Because Catholicism taught me to do unto others what I want them to do unto me—in this case, to understand my point of view—I put myself in his place. “I know you asked because you love us,” I said, “and that you want to be sure we’re in heaven with you.” He nodded and we continued our visit.
I’ve had multiple slices of daily bread since my husband’s first irregular EKG. If he has to be housebound while we wait for surgery, how nice that it’s happening during this outstanding Ohio spring and summer when a walk around the backyard, the smell of summer rain, or five minutes of cloud watching can energize me like a mini-vacation. How easy it is to drive to multiple doctor appointments in our own car, without winter coats and boots, without snow or ice. How fortunate to have multiple world-class hospitals with clean beds and competent doctors so near. To have a comfortable home with running water, electricity, and a flower garden to recover in. To have a chance to spend all day together, watching movies, talking, praying, and visiting with our sons, family, and friends—of every denomination—whom we cherish.
Human relationships are complicated. Nourishment comes in different flavors and shapes. And sometimes what others say to us—and we to them—is for the birds. But God always gives us our daily bread. So when a slice seems stale, what should you do? Look for the fresh loaves around you. They are always there.
Victoria Ryan
Writer and speaker for children and adults with current focus on Catholic fiction for adults. Fish Sticks--Catholic blog of Victoria Ryan: Significance of Catholic Baby Boomer Experience posts a new essay each Friday (like fish sticks in Lent).