The Bread Truck
Stories
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Contents
"The Bread Truck" by Keith Hewitt
"The Best Choice" by Peter Andrew Smith
* * * * * * * *
The Bread Truck
by Keith Hewitt
John 6:51-58
"Time to back up the bread truck."
Her grandmother's voice, having lost nothing in timbre or good humor across the decades, had already tickled her auditory cortex and crept away on silent sneakers before Anna could decide if she had actually heard it, or had just experienced another exceptionally clear memory... or hallucination.
She knew what the nurses said about her, out in the hallway.
She was blind and immobile -- not deaf.
Voice, memory, hallucination... whatever it was, Anna took a deep, sighing breath and let it carry her to another time and place. This room, this bed, this body, had become boring, and the days and seconds danced with one another in long, slow rhythms that made the beating of her heart feel like the languorous thump... thump... thump of the drum on a slave galley propelled across an endless ocean. She could even hear the whoosh of the oars as they bit into the water and pulled, pumping blood through her veins.
"Anna-girl, what are you crying about?"
"I'm hungry," she answered, sniffing back tears, angry and indignant.
"We'll eat tonight, Anna-girl, don't you fret."
"But there's nothing in the refrigerator," her voice was tragic, "And there's nothing in the cupboard either."
"First of all, you know that's not true, Anna-girl. I know for a fact we've got bread, a stick of butter, and almost a whole bag of sugar in the pantry."
"But I don't want sugar sandwiches for dinner, again!"
"And second of all --" her grandmother just rolled on, ignoring her outburst, "-- what we have or don't have on the shelf or in our bellies doesn't really matter. Not when we've got the word of Jesus Christ."
"You can't eat words," Anna pointed out, with the wisdom of a seven year old.
"Jesus said that he was the living bread, come down to us from heaven. He's all we really need. Anna-girl, if you believe in Jesus, that's all you got to do -- all that really matters."
"But I'm hungry!" and her voice became a wail... and her grandmother had wrapped her arms around her, kissed her on the head and rocked back and forth, cooing softly.
When the crying stopped, her grandmother patted her on the back and said softly, "Anna-girl, I think it's time to back up the bread truck and refill our pantry. What do you say we do some reading from the Good Book?" Without waiting for an answer, she reached up to the shelf and pulled down a worn, black Bible, flipped it open with one hand and searched through columns of text that were faded, yet familiar. Finally, she came to a passage that made her smile, and she began to read out loud...
Good times followed bad, but as Anna drifted through them, touching a memory here and tasting a feeling there, she realized that it wasn't always possible to tell which was which. She came to a place where a dream lay on her bedroom floor, while she sat on the side of her bed and stared at things that would never be. Her lip quivered, and as she sat a tear welled up in one eye, traced a path down her cheek, where it ran out of energy and died.
"I didn't get in," she said dully, as her grandmother paused at the open door. The old woman just nodded.
"This was my last chance. I thought, even with my grades, my test scores would get me into school. But I don't qualify."
Her grandmother padded into her room, sat on the bed beside her and put an arm around her shoulder; there was hardly any weight at all to it. "I'm sorry," she said simply. "I know this meant a lot to you."
"It was my chance to be something, to get somewhere. But that's all gone."
Her grandmother clucked softly, and out of the corner of her eye she could see her head shaking slowly. "Anna-girl, you're smarter than that. You're God's child -- you opened your heart to Jesus years ago, and you took him into your life. That's when you got somewhere. Accepting Jesus, that makes you somebody. All the rest you're just doing for yourself."
"But I wanted to -- I didn't want to have to worry about money. I didn't ever want to have to worry about where our next meal was coming from, how our bills were going to get paid, and the only way I could do that was to go to school -- to be successful."
Her grandmother chuckled softly and laid her head on her shoulder. "Anna-girl, the only way you don't ever have to worry is if you can turn everything over to God. And Jesus told us that if we just accept him, the rest doesn't matter. We can never go hungry -- he's all we need." She raised her head. "I think you need a reminder, Anna-girl. It's time to back up the bread truck."
She leaned across the bed and pulled a student Bible off the nightstand, flipped it open and began to read in a calm, gentle voice, confident that God would take her to the right scripture. Eventually, the emptiness Anna felt went away...
Anna hovered over that memory for what seemed like a long time, finally pushed off gently, and began to follow the voice back... or was it forward? The years seemed confused, flowing this way and that instead of following the stately march that had brought her to this place. One moment she was at her first day in the old five-and-dime on Walworth Street, the next she was burying her husband, and the one after that she was sitting on a swing, waiting for her mother to come back from Kresge's. Some of those moments she tried to linger, others she could barely watch.
Either way, she noticed something that flowed through them all -- a golden gossamer thread that pierced the heart of each one and strung them together like so much popcorn on a Christmas tree. Even where the moments were jumbled, knotted together, she could trace the thread. As she drew closer to it, curious, she realized that as thin as it was, it carried a scent -- a hint of lavender mixed with Ivory soap. That was Grandma.
And the voice -- that was Grandma's too, reminding her to "back up the bread truck" whenever she was worried, sad, or scared. It was her way of reminding Anna that Jesus was all they really needed -- and that the bread of life that was Jesus could always be found in scripture, if she was having a hard time seeing it in her life.
"Anna-girl…"
The voice was clear as a bell, and Anna opened her eyes, tried to look over her shoulder... but there was nothing there. She tried to keep them open, waiting, but it was just so hard to do... they closed, again, and she began to drift.
"Anna-girl…" There was no mistaking this. Her eyes opened -- though the thin, parchment skin of her eyelids never moved -- and as she looked up, the rich, unmistakable aroma of fresh bread enveloped her.
There was no emergency... the aide called the nurse, and the nurse felt for a pulse, looked into her eyes, then called the doctor. When the doctor finally arrived he repeated those tests, and a few others, then confirmed the time of death and went to the nurses' station to begin the required paperwork. It was the aides who came to transport the remains, using a gurney with a false top that would hide the body from patients, who noticed something odd:
There was the faint smile... but that wasn't too unusual.
It was the smell of freshly baked bread that made them wonder...
Keith Hewitt is the author of two volumes of NaTiVity Dramas: Nontraditional Christmas Plays for All Ages (CSS). Keith's newest book NaTiVity Dramas: The Third Season will be published September 2012. He is a local pastor, co-youth leader, former Sunday school teacher, and occasional speaker at Christian events. He lives in southeastern Wisconsin with his wife, two children, and assorted dogs and cats.
The Best Choice
by Peter Andrew Smith
1 Kings 2:10-12; 3:3-14
"What do you want for your birthday?" John asked Jolene as he tucked her into bed. "Since you are turning five next week you can have absolutely anything your heart desires."
Jolene looked up with her big blue eyes. "Really?"
"Absolutely."
"I only want one thing, Daddy."
"What's that?"
"I want to spend the day with you."
"Honey, I'm not sure that I can do that since I'm in the middle of some very busy work." John took a deep breath. "Are you sure you wouldn't want that doll you saw at the store or a birthday party with all your friends? Maria said she would be happy to look after all the arrangements. Wouldn't that be fun?"
Jolene shrugged. "I guess."
"Good." John kissed her on the forehead.
"Daddy?"
John paused at the door. "What, pumpkin?"
"I don't need a party or the doll."
"I know dear but birthdays are special days when we get special things," John said. "I want you to be happy."
"If you could spend the day with me I would be happy," Jolene said.
"I know but Daddy has to work to earn money. I'd love to be here but I have a very important business trip."
"Okay," she said.
John shut the door to Jolene's room and loosened the tie on his shirt. He had a couple of hours more work to do before he could turn in himself. Maria was waiting for him in the kitchen.
"Do you need anything else before I go?"
"No, thank you Maria," John said opening his laptop. "I don't know what I would do without you. Jolene adores you."
"She is a special little girl." Maria put on her coat. "But the person she truly adores is her father."
John smiled. "I asked her what she wants for her birthday next week."
"Ah," Maria said her eyes starting to sparkle. "Did she tell you?"
"Yes. Could you pick up that doll she has been talking about and order a cake for her party?"
The sparkle faded. "Certainly, sir. Is it okay if I bake her a chocolate cake?"
"Of course," John said. "Just use the household account for anything you need."
Maria hesitated at the door. "She told you she wanted the doll and a party for her birthday?"
"No," John said starting to type. "But could you get them anyway please?"
As John sat in the quiet apartment he found it hard to focus on his work. He thought about Jolene's birthday wish and looked at his appointments for the next week. There was a lot of money at stake and there was no way he could do the work and free up the day for his daughter. He closed his eyes and prayed for the strength to do what he knew was right.
##
A week later Maria and Jolene sat at the kitchen table. "Do you want a piece of cake?"
Jolene shook her head. "Daddy said I should wait until my guests arrive."
"I'm sure they will be here soon. Did you invite all of your friends?"
Jolene shrugged. "Daddy looked after it before he went to the airport. He said everyone he invited would be here at 2:00 pm."
They both looked at the clock showing five minutes past the hour.
"Maybe they are going to be here soon," Maria suggested.
"Maybe."
A knock on the door echoed through the apartment.
"There they are. You will have a great party. I know your father bought a special present for you." Maria tilted her head toward the package wrapped in pink paper on the counter.
"I guess," Jolene said. "Could you get the door?"
"Don't you want to see who it is that is coming for your birthday party?"
Jolene's eyes started to fill with tears. "All I wanted was Daddy to be here."
"You father has to work, little one. He would be here if he could be." Maria patted her shoulder. "Come now it is a party your guests are waiting for the birthday girl."
Jolene trailed behind Maria as they approached the door. A knock sounded again loudly.
Maria opened the door and let out a gasp. Jolene looked up and launched herself toward the open arms on the other side.
"Daddy!"
John twirled her around in his arms. "Happy Birthday!"
"But you were away at work," Jolene said. "When you said there was a party and bought me a present I thought that was all I was going to get for my birthday."
"I was able to take an earlier flight home and have the rest of the day for us to spend together," John said. "Isn't that what you said you really wanted?"
His daughter grabbed his hand and pulled him into the apartment. John looked at her excited face as she showed him the cake and realized that in giving his daughter what she asked for on her birthday he was receiving a wonderful gift himself. Within his heart he gave thanks to God for giving him the wisdom to recognize the true riches in his life.
Peter Andrew Smith is an ordained minister in the United Church of Canada who currently serves at St. James United Church in Antigonish, Nova Scotia. He is the author of All Things Are Ready (CSS), a book of lectionary-based communion prayers, as well as many stories and articles, which can be found listed at www.peterandrewsmith.com.
*****************************************
StoryShare, August 19, 2012, issue.
Copyright 2012 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
"The Bread Truck" by Keith Hewitt
"The Best Choice" by Peter Andrew Smith
* * * * * * * *
The Bread Truck
by Keith Hewitt
John 6:51-58
"Time to back up the bread truck."
Her grandmother's voice, having lost nothing in timbre or good humor across the decades, had already tickled her auditory cortex and crept away on silent sneakers before Anna could decide if she had actually heard it, or had just experienced another exceptionally clear memory... or hallucination.
She knew what the nurses said about her, out in the hallway.
She was blind and immobile -- not deaf.
Voice, memory, hallucination... whatever it was, Anna took a deep, sighing breath and let it carry her to another time and place. This room, this bed, this body, had become boring, and the days and seconds danced with one another in long, slow rhythms that made the beating of her heart feel like the languorous thump... thump... thump of the drum on a slave galley propelled across an endless ocean. She could even hear the whoosh of the oars as they bit into the water and pulled, pumping blood through her veins.
"Anna-girl, what are you crying about?"
"I'm hungry," she answered, sniffing back tears, angry and indignant.
"We'll eat tonight, Anna-girl, don't you fret."
"But there's nothing in the refrigerator," her voice was tragic, "And there's nothing in the cupboard either."
"First of all, you know that's not true, Anna-girl. I know for a fact we've got bread, a stick of butter, and almost a whole bag of sugar in the pantry."
"But I don't want sugar sandwiches for dinner, again!"
"And second of all --" her grandmother just rolled on, ignoring her outburst, "-- what we have or don't have on the shelf or in our bellies doesn't really matter. Not when we've got the word of Jesus Christ."
"You can't eat words," Anna pointed out, with the wisdom of a seven year old.
"Jesus said that he was the living bread, come down to us from heaven. He's all we really need. Anna-girl, if you believe in Jesus, that's all you got to do -- all that really matters."
"But I'm hungry!" and her voice became a wail... and her grandmother had wrapped her arms around her, kissed her on the head and rocked back and forth, cooing softly.
When the crying stopped, her grandmother patted her on the back and said softly, "Anna-girl, I think it's time to back up the bread truck and refill our pantry. What do you say we do some reading from the Good Book?" Without waiting for an answer, she reached up to the shelf and pulled down a worn, black Bible, flipped it open with one hand and searched through columns of text that were faded, yet familiar. Finally, she came to a passage that made her smile, and she began to read out loud...
Good times followed bad, but as Anna drifted through them, touching a memory here and tasting a feeling there, she realized that it wasn't always possible to tell which was which. She came to a place where a dream lay on her bedroom floor, while she sat on the side of her bed and stared at things that would never be. Her lip quivered, and as she sat a tear welled up in one eye, traced a path down her cheek, where it ran out of energy and died.
"I didn't get in," she said dully, as her grandmother paused at the open door. The old woman just nodded.
"This was my last chance. I thought, even with my grades, my test scores would get me into school. But I don't qualify."
Her grandmother padded into her room, sat on the bed beside her and put an arm around her shoulder; there was hardly any weight at all to it. "I'm sorry," she said simply. "I know this meant a lot to you."
"It was my chance to be something, to get somewhere. But that's all gone."
Her grandmother clucked softly, and out of the corner of her eye she could see her head shaking slowly. "Anna-girl, you're smarter than that. You're God's child -- you opened your heart to Jesus years ago, and you took him into your life. That's when you got somewhere. Accepting Jesus, that makes you somebody. All the rest you're just doing for yourself."
"But I wanted to -- I didn't want to have to worry about money. I didn't ever want to have to worry about where our next meal was coming from, how our bills were going to get paid, and the only way I could do that was to go to school -- to be successful."
Her grandmother chuckled softly and laid her head on her shoulder. "Anna-girl, the only way you don't ever have to worry is if you can turn everything over to God. And Jesus told us that if we just accept him, the rest doesn't matter. We can never go hungry -- he's all we need." She raised her head. "I think you need a reminder, Anna-girl. It's time to back up the bread truck."
She leaned across the bed and pulled a student Bible off the nightstand, flipped it open and began to read in a calm, gentle voice, confident that God would take her to the right scripture. Eventually, the emptiness Anna felt went away...
Anna hovered over that memory for what seemed like a long time, finally pushed off gently, and began to follow the voice back... or was it forward? The years seemed confused, flowing this way and that instead of following the stately march that had brought her to this place. One moment she was at her first day in the old five-and-dime on Walworth Street, the next she was burying her husband, and the one after that she was sitting on a swing, waiting for her mother to come back from Kresge's. Some of those moments she tried to linger, others she could barely watch.
Either way, she noticed something that flowed through them all -- a golden gossamer thread that pierced the heart of each one and strung them together like so much popcorn on a Christmas tree. Even where the moments were jumbled, knotted together, she could trace the thread. As she drew closer to it, curious, she realized that as thin as it was, it carried a scent -- a hint of lavender mixed with Ivory soap. That was Grandma.
And the voice -- that was Grandma's too, reminding her to "back up the bread truck" whenever she was worried, sad, or scared. It was her way of reminding Anna that Jesus was all they really needed -- and that the bread of life that was Jesus could always be found in scripture, if she was having a hard time seeing it in her life.
"Anna-girl…"
The voice was clear as a bell, and Anna opened her eyes, tried to look over her shoulder... but there was nothing there. She tried to keep them open, waiting, but it was just so hard to do... they closed, again, and she began to drift.
"Anna-girl…" There was no mistaking this. Her eyes opened -- though the thin, parchment skin of her eyelids never moved -- and as she looked up, the rich, unmistakable aroma of fresh bread enveloped her.
There was no emergency... the aide called the nurse, and the nurse felt for a pulse, looked into her eyes, then called the doctor. When the doctor finally arrived he repeated those tests, and a few others, then confirmed the time of death and went to the nurses' station to begin the required paperwork. It was the aides who came to transport the remains, using a gurney with a false top that would hide the body from patients, who noticed something odd:
There was the faint smile... but that wasn't too unusual.
It was the smell of freshly baked bread that made them wonder...
Keith Hewitt is the author of two volumes of NaTiVity Dramas: Nontraditional Christmas Plays for All Ages (CSS). Keith's newest book NaTiVity Dramas: The Third Season will be published September 2012. He is a local pastor, co-youth leader, former Sunday school teacher, and occasional speaker at Christian events. He lives in southeastern Wisconsin with his wife, two children, and assorted dogs and cats.
The Best Choice
by Peter Andrew Smith
1 Kings 2:10-12; 3:3-14
"What do you want for your birthday?" John asked Jolene as he tucked her into bed. "Since you are turning five next week you can have absolutely anything your heart desires."
Jolene looked up with her big blue eyes. "Really?"
"Absolutely."
"I only want one thing, Daddy."
"What's that?"
"I want to spend the day with you."
"Honey, I'm not sure that I can do that since I'm in the middle of some very busy work." John took a deep breath. "Are you sure you wouldn't want that doll you saw at the store or a birthday party with all your friends? Maria said she would be happy to look after all the arrangements. Wouldn't that be fun?"
Jolene shrugged. "I guess."
"Good." John kissed her on the forehead.
"Daddy?"
John paused at the door. "What, pumpkin?"
"I don't need a party or the doll."
"I know dear but birthdays are special days when we get special things," John said. "I want you to be happy."
"If you could spend the day with me I would be happy," Jolene said.
"I know but Daddy has to work to earn money. I'd love to be here but I have a very important business trip."
"Okay," she said.
John shut the door to Jolene's room and loosened the tie on his shirt. He had a couple of hours more work to do before he could turn in himself. Maria was waiting for him in the kitchen.
"Do you need anything else before I go?"
"No, thank you Maria," John said opening his laptop. "I don't know what I would do without you. Jolene adores you."
"She is a special little girl." Maria put on her coat. "But the person she truly adores is her father."
John smiled. "I asked her what she wants for her birthday next week."
"Ah," Maria said her eyes starting to sparkle. "Did she tell you?"
"Yes. Could you pick up that doll she has been talking about and order a cake for her party?"
The sparkle faded. "Certainly, sir. Is it okay if I bake her a chocolate cake?"
"Of course," John said. "Just use the household account for anything you need."
Maria hesitated at the door. "She told you she wanted the doll and a party for her birthday?"
"No," John said starting to type. "But could you get them anyway please?"
As John sat in the quiet apartment he found it hard to focus on his work. He thought about Jolene's birthday wish and looked at his appointments for the next week. There was a lot of money at stake and there was no way he could do the work and free up the day for his daughter. He closed his eyes and prayed for the strength to do what he knew was right.
##
A week later Maria and Jolene sat at the kitchen table. "Do you want a piece of cake?"
Jolene shook her head. "Daddy said I should wait until my guests arrive."
"I'm sure they will be here soon. Did you invite all of your friends?"
Jolene shrugged. "Daddy looked after it before he went to the airport. He said everyone he invited would be here at 2:00 pm."
They both looked at the clock showing five minutes past the hour.
"Maybe they are going to be here soon," Maria suggested.
"Maybe."
A knock on the door echoed through the apartment.
"There they are. You will have a great party. I know your father bought a special present for you." Maria tilted her head toward the package wrapped in pink paper on the counter.
"I guess," Jolene said. "Could you get the door?"
"Don't you want to see who it is that is coming for your birthday party?"
Jolene's eyes started to fill with tears. "All I wanted was Daddy to be here."
"You father has to work, little one. He would be here if he could be." Maria patted her shoulder. "Come now it is a party your guests are waiting for the birthday girl."
Jolene trailed behind Maria as they approached the door. A knock sounded again loudly.
Maria opened the door and let out a gasp. Jolene looked up and launched herself toward the open arms on the other side.
"Daddy!"
John twirled her around in his arms. "Happy Birthday!"
"But you were away at work," Jolene said. "When you said there was a party and bought me a present I thought that was all I was going to get for my birthday."
"I was able to take an earlier flight home and have the rest of the day for us to spend together," John said. "Isn't that what you said you really wanted?"
His daughter grabbed his hand and pulled him into the apartment. John looked at her excited face as she showed him the cake and realized that in giving his daughter what she asked for on her birthday he was receiving a wonderful gift himself. Within his heart he gave thanks to God for giving him the wisdom to recognize the true riches in his life.
Peter Andrew Smith is an ordained minister in the United Church of Canada who currently serves at St. James United Church in Antigonish, Nova Scotia. He is the author of All Things Are Ready (CSS), a book of lectionary-based communion prayers, as well as many stories and articles, which can be found listed at www.peterandrewsmith.com.
*****************************************
StoryShare, August 19, 2012, issue.
Copyright 2012 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
