Thoughts about something I read keep worming their way into my mind. It was presented by a character in a story, a Buddhist monk. He was encouraging his Protestant brother-in-law to release his attachment to all experiences. He suggested letting go of the ties to successes as well as failures.

It’s not hard to see the harm caused by negative experiences weighing you down. But successes? What’s wrong with clinging to their memory? Couldn’t there be some benefit from replaying our triumphs when we need a little boost?

When those successes come our way, the monk said, we should use the energy of those highs to propel us on to help someone else. He explained that the “bread” is not given to us for our use alone. He went on to say that its purpose is less about our personal fulfillment and ultimately to sustain others.

Could I ever do what the Buddhist suggested? Does anyone behave like that? Is there anyone who uses their momentum when they’ve reached a pinnacle to spur them on to better serve someone else? 

Just as I was trying to sort it all out, the light bulb clicked on. I suddenly remembered I actually have a friend who lives this way every day. Ellen McDowell is my friend’s mother, and she’s my friend, too. 

Instrumental in establishing the local Catholic Worker House, she later founded the Daily Bread Soup Kitchen. For years she’s worked tirelessly helping those in need. She’s well known in the community, revered even. Sometimes addressed as “Miss Ellen,” she’s often regarded as an angel or a saint, and deservedly so.

Dignity and respect

Her steady approach to everyone she encounters is to make them know that they matter. Always intent on uplifting, she treats everyone with dignity and respect. She looks upon every soul as if she were beholding Christ Himself, and she acts accordingly.

I’ve sat with Ellen on Assistance Day at the Soup Kitchen, ready to help the guests who need to procure birth certificates. Often times, however, their situations are dire, and they have other needs, too. More often than not, they come directly to “Miss Ellen” with their concerns because they know her tender heart. And they know that, if there’s a way to help, she’s going to do it.

No matter how many times she’s helped someone, she’s willing to do it again. Regardless of how they respond to her, she doesn’t seem to waver. Once in a while, a frustrated guest can’t get the result they’re seeking. And occasionally, their emotions boil over, and they seem to take it out on those trying to help, including Ellen.

After one such chaotic day where agitation seemed to be contagious, I told her how sorry I was that she’d had to endure the experience. I knew it had to wear her down. But her response was the same as it is time after time.

‘So privileged’

She minimized the unpleasantness, and she replied, “I just feel so privileged that God allows me to try and help our guests.”

She appears pretty adept at releasing any attachment to the negative situations.

On the flip side, Ellen has been recognized numerous times for her remarkable efforts helping the underserved. Among the awards she’s received are the Dr. Martin Luther King Day Humanitarian Award and the Girl Scouts Women of Distinctions Award. She also received a community Social Justice Award and the Book of Golden Deeds Award.

I know she appreciates the honors, but it’s not personal recognition she wants. No, in letting go she deflects the attention from herself, choosing instead to acknowledge the work of other volunteers. Or, she chooses to put the spotlight on the need.

Letting go

Ellen’s life isn’t driven by any focus on herself. Instead, she lives firmly rooted in her faith and in the commandment to love all others unconditionally. She does this better than anyone I’ve ever met. In everything she does—with every person she encounters—she leads with acceptance and love.

Even now, in her 96th year, she continues seeking ways to be of service to others. For her, the “bread” is always for helping someone else.

For my new-found perspective, I have an author and his character in a story to thank. And I also have you to thank, Miss Ellen. 

Thank you for these lessons provided by your life’s example—lessons on recognizing the Divine in everyone we meet and lessons on using our bread to help sustain them.

Bread. A source of nourishment. A source of comfort. A symbol of our successes in life. And for some, an element of a holy sacrament.

From now on, when I receive my bread, in whatever form it may appear, I want to remember that it is truly holy. I want to remember, and I want to use it to fuel love and service to others.