Shawna R. B. Atteberry

Mother Junia writes: In honor of summer, please share your own beachy memories, plans, and dreams with a “Beach Trip” Friday Five.

1. Ocean rocks, lake limps? Vice versa? Or “it’s all beautiful in its own way”? I love the ocean–the waves, the buoyant water, everything. But I live right next to Lake Michigan, and a really big freshwater lake is fine by me too.

2. Year round beach living: Heaven…or the Other Place? During warm weather heaven, but during the winter when the wind in coming off the lake brrrrr. Really can’t call it hell: too cold. Barcelona was the same way.

3. Any beach plans for this summer? Yep, there’s beach nearby, and I plan on getting to it.

4. Best beach memory ever? Swimming in the Mediterranean.

5. Fantasy beach trip? The Great Barrier Reef in Australia.

Bonus: Share a piece of music/poetry/film/book that expresses something about what the beach means to you.

Here’s a poem I wrote about the Mediterranean when I lived in Barcelona.

“Wading in the Sea”

I waded in the Mediterranean as the tide was rising
The blue-green, aquamarine jewels invited me
Off came my shoes and socks as the wind blew from the sea.
As the sun-lit diamonds twinkled very bewitching
Out I waded into the sea.

The cold waters made my feet zing
As I walked on the shore slowly, breathing deeply
The sea air which made my cheeks pink and rosy.
The sheer beauty of the moment made my heart sing
As I waded in the sea.

The sun’s rays brought warmth to my face
A stark contrast to the cold which nipped my toes
I looked out to where the sea ended and the horizon rose.
The snow-capped waves created an endless maze
As I waded in the sea.

My heart was light and I felt care-free
For a few minutes I had no worries
For a moment lost in time there is no hurry
I felt as if the world was at my feet
As I waded in the sea.

© 1997 Shawna Renee Bound

This is the poem I wrote for my spiritual foremothers: Mary, mother of Christ; St. Brigid of Kildare; St. Hildegard von Bingen; St. Teresa of Avila; and Florence Nightingale.

Hail Holy Mothers!
Trail blazers!
Pioneers!

Women of fire;
Women of God’s Word:
Receiving God’s Word
Nurturing God’s Word
Giving birth to God’s Word.

Women of the shield:
Defending God’s Word,
Not with sword,
But with exhortation
With rebukes
With wise counsel.

Mothers, Defenders of our faith!
You stand around me–
Cheering
Encouraging
Showing the way
Praying.

Sisters, mothers, friends:
You wait for us
Bidding us come;
come take your hands
and enter eternity together.
(c)2008 Shawna R. B. Atteberry

All these, though they were commended for their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better so that they would not, apart from us, be made perfect. Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us (Hebrews 11:39–12:1).

Who are your spiritual foremothers? How do they draw you closer to God? How do they spark you creativity?

The picture is St. Teresa of Avila by Janet McKenzie.

A couple of friends from the blogosphere have posted Emily Dickinson poetry in the last two days. I sat down to read some of her poems and had a conversation with her. It seemed like a very good conversation considering that March is National Women’s History Month.

It is easy to work when the soul is at play–
But when the soul is in pain–
The hearing him put his playthings up
Makes work difficult–then–

It is simple, to ache in the Bone, or the Rind–
But Gimlets–among the nerve–
Mangle daintier–terribler–
Like a Panter in the Glove–
From The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, 244

“Scared Child”
The creative soul
Is a child who loves to play.
But when darkness comes
And depression grows,
The child is scared
Hiding under the sheets.

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you–Nobody–Too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise–you know!

How dreary–to be–Somebody!
How public–like a Frog–
To tell one’s name–the livelong June–
To an admiring Bog!
From The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, 288.

“Celebrity?”
Tell me:
Do you understand
This obsession with
Celebrity?
Why desire
Fifteen minutes of fame
At any cost?
Nobodies
Can walk down the street,
And shop in peace.
Nobodies
Are the ones who are free,
And live in peace.

“Scared Child” and “Celebrity?” (c) 2008 by Shawna R. B. Atteberry

“Full Figured Beauty”

I see beauty
In full curves,
Wide hips,
Full abdomens.
Givers of life
Are rounded and full.
They have room
To conceive,
To nourish,
To protect.
They give birth
To children.
They give birth
To dreams.
They give birth
To new realities.
Lascivious curves,
Full breasts,
Rounded abdomens
Have room
To conceive,
To nurture,
And to birth:
New Life.

“Words”

More than letters
On a page
More than the
Dictionary says
Words
Order life
Rearrange life
Create life
Words
Bring new worlds
Into being
And birth new
Universes to explore

“Amaryllis”

All appears cold and dead
But through the icy ground,
Through the snow,
A green stem pushes
Its way to the light.
In the frigid sun
It unfurls its
Fiery crimson flower.
All may appear
Frozen and dead,
But appearances
Deceive. As new life
Breaks through frozen soil.

“Candlelight on the Wall”

Candle flickers in the night;
Twisting and dancing
In the shadows.
Wavering, waving,
Tenacious, it keeps aflame.
providing light in the dark,
And a window into the soul

(c)2008 by Shawna R. B. Atteberry

Sally has a beautiful, haunting poem about The Samaritan Woman up on her site.

Instead of simply celebrating Martin Luther King Day, Dustin Wax at Lifehack has a list of things we can do to continue making King’s dream a reality in 12 Ways to Make MLK’s Dream a Reality. Here are a couple of them:

Re-examine what you “know”: It turns out our minds are full of racist stereotypes, even among the most saintly people. We act every day on things we “know” are true, without realizing that those “facts” are grounded only in stereotypes, not reality. Consider:

• The lowest violent crime rates in the US are found in Hispanic neighborhoods.
• White teens are more likely to use and sell drugs than any other teenagers — even drugs like crack that we associate with minorities.
• Almost all school shootings have been carried out by white students.

None of these facts conforms to our expectations, which are shaped more by the stereotypes we’ve internalized and the sensationalist media than by actual experience.

Think community: Kant’s Categorical Imperative states: “Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law”. What he meant in a nutshell was that you should act the way you wish everyone would act. Don’t just ask yourself if your behavior is in your own best interest, but if it also makes your community better (which, if you think about it, is also in your best interest).

In The Outrage of Outsiders: Why So Many People Dislike Christians (Hat tip to Gord), Journey with Jesus has an article about a three year study that resulted in David Kinnaman’s book unChristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks about Christianity… and Why It Matters. He found that an overwhelming majority of young adults view Christianity with quite a bit of hostility. They see us as judgmental, bigoted, and extremely critical and unaccepting. All I can say is can you blame them? When you have people constantly telling you (or yelling at you) that you’re going to hell for one reason or another, I’d have to say you wouldn’t like them. May be the church (particularly the evangelical church) needs to take its cue from Jesus and the Christians in the New Testament instead of the “hellfire and brimstone” preachers of the 30s and 40s revivials.

Following the example of Jesus, the first Christians broke down social barriers. They disregarded religious taboos that judged people as ritually clean or unclean, worthy or unworthy, respectable or disrespectable. They subverted normal social hierarchies of wealth, ethnicity, religion, and gender in favor of a radical egalitarianism before God and with each other: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28).

In a word, the first believers were generous. They demonstrated authentic transparency, not moral superiority or ulterior motives. Like their Lord, they exuded compassion rather than condemnation. They lived out of gratitude not fear, and had a reputation for empathy rather than fault-finding. The first followers of Jesus were people of self-sacrifice, not self-interest. They insisted that God was like a tender father, not a vindictive tyrant, and encouraged every person without exception to believe what the psalmist said: “This I know, that God is for me” (Psalm 56:9).

Pastor Dan over at Street Prophets reminds the right-wing, anti-immigration crew that they Can’t Fool the Faithful: Immigration is a Moral Issue, Not a Political Football. American Christians are going to have to decide are we going to be Americans first or Christian?

Pastors and people in the pews know that inhumane raids, deportations, local anti-immigration ordinances, and racist sentiment against various groups of immigrants fly in the face of the Lord’s admonitions to not “oppress the stranger” (Ex. 23:9) or “pervert the judgment of the stranger” (Deut. 24:17). Instead, the Lord taught us to “love the stranger as ourselves” (Lev. 19:34), and “allow the stranger to live among us” (Lev. 25:35). Christ’s teachings in the New Testament reaffirm the Lord’s commandments of inclusion by urging us to welcome the stranger. He promises that as we provide for the stranger (or “alien,” NIV), we are serving Him (Matt. 25:35-40). How many of these politicians really want to deport Jesus?

And may be those anti-immigration people need to remember who the illegal immigrants of 300 years ago were. Bet the Native Americans wished they had built a big, honking wall right after we started showing up. (I saw a great cartoon of this, but I don’t remember where. If you know, leave a link in the comments, and I’ll update this post.)

“In the Kitchen”
Father Kilian McDonnell, O. S. B.

Bellini was wrong.
I was not kneeling
on my satin cushion
quietly at prayer,
head slightly bent.

Painters always
skew the scene,
as though my life
were wrapped in silks,
in temple smells.

Actually I had just
come back from the well,
placing the pitcher on the table
I bumped against the edge,
spilling water on the floor.

As I bent to wipe
it up, there was a light
against the kitchen wall
as though someone had opened
the door to the sun.

Rag in hand,
hair across my face,
I turned to see
who was entering,
unannounced, unasked.

All I saw was light, white
against the timbers.
I heard a voice
I had never heard.

I heard a greeting,
I was elected,
the Lord was with me,
I pushed back my hair,
stood afraid.

Someone closed the door.
And I dropped the rag.

Jay Cormier says this in response to “In the Kitchen”:

And so Mary’s Child comes to us, often unannounced, into our kitches and living rooms, our offices and plants, our classrooms and playgrounds. He comes to transform not only human history but also our own personal histories. In him, the compassion of God takes on a human face; in him, our everyday struggles and confusions are transformed in the peace of the Father (Daily Reflections for Advent and Christmas: Waiting in Joyful Hope, 2007-8, 43).

My poem, Daughter of Mary Magdalene, has been published on The Ooze website.