Friday, October 09, 2009

Remembering Real

The Real Mary

At last, the day.

The Real Mary goes to # 21, Anonymous, signed "Grace and Peace." Congratulations! Please contact me by Monday, October 12, 6:00 pm. EST, with your name and address and I'll send along your copy. And if you like, you've also won the chance to guest-post on Beliefnet, to share your thoughts about the book.

[UPDATE: Alli from SC is the new winner of the giveaway, as Anonymous has let the deadline for contacting pass. Thanks, Anonymous, for your gracious comment. And congratulations, Alli! :) Please contact me by Wednesday at 6:00 pm EST.]

Since today is poetry Friday, I'm also offering... a poem! In answer to our The Real... prompt at High Calling Blogs...

"Page 5"

The menu
says strawberry

with whipped cream

but here's the deal:
I remember what's real,
my mother's child-small

hands turning flour

sugar, shortening
the "size of a big egg"
so the old recipe

instructed, I remember

sun-kissed fields of
furrows, hills my
grandmother's rough

patched, yet painted

hands turned and raised
for strawberries blushed
and bleeding real juice

not perfumed water

that pretends ripeness
cut and strewn over too-
sweet cake. I remember

cream, real, whipped.


A special thank you again to everyone who posted about and linked to/tweeted/or Facebooked the giveaway. You made it a Grand Celebration. And thanks to Scot McKnight for writing a fine book.

High Calling Blogs Real Business Men Read Poetry
Monica’s Attracting His Gaze
Laura’s Fast
Bonnie’s The Bloom of Becoming
Maureen’s The Real Me
Glynn’s The Real Poet
A Simple Country Girl’s Little Things
Kelly’s Real Time
Claire’s This Concept of Real
Monica’s The Real Paul
Tweetspeak’s Poems of the Ruby Moon
Fred's Cooking 1 and Cooking 2
Deb's Mothers, Mary and Obedience

The Real Mary photo, by L.L. Barkat.

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Blogger Maureen said...


Lovely little poem that brought back memories of my own mother's hands always in flour, sugar, eggs. She never followed a recipe. We her daughters still don't know how she made those pies, cakes, cookies she tucked into lunches or set out for company.

12:07 PM  
Blogger Far Above Rubies said...

Congratulations to the winner. God bless and enjoy your prize.

1:10 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

memories and real food.
gotta have those fresh, local strawberries! i agree.
and real whipped cream, too.

8:25 PM  
Blogger Ann Voskamp @Holy Experience said...

delicious poem, L.L....
Now to the kitchen!

12:36 AM  
Blogger GratefulinGA said...

mmm...brings back memories of my own grandma 'Dolly'. Never one to measure and always heaven on her tables!
thanks LL

10:50 AM  
Anonymous Bradley J. Moore said...

The Mary thing was a fun little detour for me. Thanks for getting me involved!

And as for the poem - I think doing a book of a collection of poetry on food and cooking would find a huge market at the moment. Any takers? Maybe it could be a HighCalling Bloggers group effort. You could even combine it with spiritual lessons? Food and the Soul - that's something we all have in common.

Just a thought when I read your delicious poem.

7:39 PM  
Blogger L.L. Barkat said...

Just here to put "Anonymous's" comment somewhere, since I need to redo the Random Generation (Anonymous did not respond to winning, but I wanted to keep the comment somewhere...)

Perhaps a Catholic might offer a gentle word here that could offer encouragement to all sisters in Christ, regardless of denomination (as Jesus is regardless of denomination).

The first half of the beautiful prayer we cherish is "Hail, Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with you. Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus."

That entire verse of the prayer is taken directly from scripture: please read again the first chapter of the Gospel according to Luke, where he so beautifully and gently treats the women who were heralds of the Savior (Elizabeth and Mary). The first sentence is the Angel Gabriel's salutation to Mary. The second sentence is Elizabeth's salutation to Mary after John the Baptist "leaped in her womb" at the arrival of Jesus-in-Mary on the hillside. It is its own poetry as only God could write it, even before you reach Mary's response, the Magnificat.

And as another of your readers noted, the final verse of the prayer is simply: Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.

There is much we can learn from she who first believed in God Incarnate, believed even when it came at a cost to her, believed when she had no context for what was to come, but simply said "yes" to God.

Grace and peace to you.

6:17 PM  
Blogger Kim Anderson said...

Ahh, the succulence of things you grow yourself! Strawberries, apples, currants, children, relationships...

10:49 AM  

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