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Dear Friends,
As April comes to a close and the gentle signs of spring surround us, I find myself reflecting on a set of questions posed by psychologist and author Jack Kornfield: How well did we love? How fully did we live? How deeply did we learn to let go? These are not easy questions. Many of us instinctively shy away from them, yet they invite us to pause and reflect on what truly matters. This message is ultimately a reflection of the love that is shared every day at Bread and Life and a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the kindness of strangers who become family.
Recently, we lost a longtime guest whose presence had a profound impact on us. She was not what one might call a “typical” guest. She was small but fierce, spirited and outspoken, and often filled the dining room with her “fighting” energy. At times, she challenged us but in doing so, she also became woven into our lives in ways we could never have anticipated.
Her life was marked by profound hardship. She endured unimaginable trauma, deep loss, and years of survival while living with untreated mental illness. And yet, despite everything she carried, she remained remarkably resilient. When she found her way to Bread and Life, she didn’t just find a meal she found people. Thirty-seven staff members came to know her, to care for her, and to love her. And she, in her own way, loved us right back.
She reminded us, again and again, of what truly matters. Like the widow in the Gospel who gave two copper coins, everything she had, she thought first of others. If she noticed a small child waiting in line for a meal, she would instinctively offer her own to the child’s mother. It was love in its simplest and purest form.
Many of us were deeply touched by her life and her passing. Kathy and Mabel often ensured she had nourishing meals. Emmy made time to sit with her. Bryan and the pantry team made sure she shopped each month. Danny and Henry looked out for her on their MSK runs and the guys who lived in the neighborhood kept tabs on her to be sure she stayed safe. Sr. Marie patiently earned her trust and worked tirelessly to help her find safe, stable housing. Sr. Marie became her guardian angel. Each of these relationships mattered, and each of these connections was real.
For years, she lived on the streets—moving from place to place, searching for safety, belonging, and dignity. At Bread and Life, she found those things. She found respect, compassion, and care and she returned those gifts by sharing whatever little she had with the people around her. In the simplest moments—an afternoon at Coney Island, a walk through the park, or spirited conversations with staff she found joy. And through her joy, she taught us.
Her death has stirred something deep within me. It has caused me to reflect and to ask: Have I lived fully? Have I loved deeply enough? I know I still have much living—and much loving—to do. Perhaps you do too.
Her presence reminded us never to take people or moments for granted, especially those who bring meaning and purpose into our lives in unexpected ways. Her life may not be one many of us would choose, but it was one that showed us what is possible: safety after instability, trust after harm, acceptance without conditions, and love in its most honest form. It is common in the Jewish tradition to remember their life as a blessing, and for all of us a true lesson in what matters most.
As we move through this Easter season may we live more fully, love more deeply, and learn to let go gently. Rest well, dear friend. Thank you for teaching us what matters most.
With gratitude and joy,
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