Sleeping with Bread is based on the spiritual practice called the Examen by St. Ignatius. Basically, it is a weekly time to look at both the positive and negative aspects of your life.
It's been a long time since I've practiced my sleeping with bread Monday, but the crazy times of the last few weeks have caused me to do a bit more reflection than I have been. I good friend of mine writes 'morning pages' every day for a half hour before she starts her day. It's her way (and many that ascribe to The Artists Way) of clearing her mind and heart at each days beginning. I've always hesitated to do 'morning pages' as my mornings are usually hectic with kids, hubby and getting ready for work myself, but I feel that each Monday is a day that I can at least take a few minutes to reflect and pause on the joys and the sorrows of the past week.
Last weeks sorrow revolved around the sudden stroke, supportive care and passing of our family dog, Kahlúa, of eleven years. (We adopted her from the humane society when she was 4.) It was the overall weight of wanting to do the best for her, the 'right thing' - that caused us to do everything we could to restore her to health and well being, but her body was weary and it was her time to rest and rest deeply.
Kahlúa was a queen among dogs if you were to ask us. Her intelligence would often cause my husband an I to wonder if she really literally understood what we were talking about. I attribute some of her intelligence to us turning on the radio to NPR before we'd leave for the day. She especially enjoyed Car Talk and This American Life on the weekends.
She was a protector of our children - she would oversee play dates and games in the living room making sure the kids didn't get too wild. If one of the neighbor kids would make too much noise for her liking, she'd gently round them together and give them a dog mom hip bump to remind them of their decibel level.
She was even good at catching Nigel by his overalls once when he was in his toddler habit of escaping out the back door. She looks so proud with his Oshkosh denim straps held gingerly in her mouth while he reached for the door nob with one dimpled hand and was turning the dead bolt with the other.
Once when Nigel had a fever and was home with Ian as I was working, she jumped up in his toddler bed and comforted his warm face with kisses. If he tried to get up from bed, she'd gently lay her paw across his tummy and kiss him, as if to say, " Stay in bed little one. You need to rest."
She watch out for my safety - when I used to work overnights at Wegmans and come home at 3am - she'd come and greet me at the door and walk out to the car with me while I carried in that nights groceries. She'd look up and down the street and walk with me. She's stick her nose in the bags to see if I'd gotten her some treats. Usually she'd only want a piece of bread in return for her guard duty. That was her favorite treat.
She reminded us to have fun - Ian would call. "Wubba wubba wubba!", and she would come tearing through the house, the stairs and yard ready to play tag with him. Nigel was a fan of Hercules when he was small and would run up to her and say, "I'm Hercules, you Pegasus!" and attempt to climb on her back to save the world. What fun they were to watch!
She was not a fan of thunderstorms, garbage trucks or trips in the car. She loved bread, stealing blankets while you nap, and tummy rubs. It's funny isn't it that even in the loss of our canine family member what I can recall beyond grief are the millions of beautiful memories of our shared life.
Sleeping with bread for this Monday is mostly about Kahlúa. While loosing her is one of my life's greatest sorrows, I don't regret one day I had with her. All the sadness we've experienced in the last few weeks does not compare to the joy she gave in her almost 16 years. I will sleep with the bread of dog joy in my heart knowing she is happy, safe and running in the hills of heaven knowing God is calling to her saying, "Wubba, wubba wubba!"
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