In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

ch apter 4 Personal Spirituality Art and the Practice of Spiritual Discipline Sandra Lommasson is a tall, brown-eyed brunette with delicate features and a warm smile. She lives in Davis, California. When Sandra got married , the minister officiating at the wedding urged her and her husband to join the church. Sandra had attended another church as a child but hadn’t participated since fifth grade. At nineteen, she had other things on her mind. Falling in love and planning her wedding had been a huge preoccupation. Getting her feet on the ground as a college freshman was another. She was also passionate about the Vietnam War. It challenged Sandra to think about what she truly valued in life and how she could make a positive difference in the world. She decided to major in elementary education and become a teacher. During college, Sandra studied hard and found opportunities to tutor children from low-income families. Her interests in social justice were sparked by the discussions that swirled around campus after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Sandra followed her husband to California when she graduated, and soon found a job teaching at a preschool for Hispanic children. She loved the job, but she eventually became a political liability to the program because she was not Hispanic herself. Budget cutbacks in California made it impossible to find a job in the public schools. In desperation, she applied for a job at a cooperative nursery school run by a church. Although the pay was meager, she was able to continue working with children. She was also able to take a leave of absence when her daughter was born and then another leave three years later when her son was born. Shortly after her son was born, Sandra’s life took an unexpected and 79 terrifying turn. She remembers lying in bed one night, the baby in his crib nearby and her daughter down the hall. Her husband was away on business. Suddenly Sandra sensed that someone was in the room. When she opened her eyes, she saw a man standing over her with a knife. He muffled her scream and then brutally raped her. After he fled, Sandra staggered out the back door and managed to make it to the neighbor’s before she passed out. In the ensuing months, Sandra realized that her assumptions about life had been shaken to the core. She not only had to rethink them; she needed to rediscover who she was—bodily, spiritually, emotionally, and mentally. Memories started to return. She remembered an abusive childhood that had caused her to be fearful and to retreat within herself . As she recounted some of these feelings in her daily journal, she recalled other times when some power outside her seemed to draw her into itself. Memories of sitting in the porch swing on summer evenings came back. She remembered how she would sit watching the sun go down, elated by its beauty and feeling that the universe must be inscribed with goodness. These memories drew her thoughts increasingly toward God. She somehow associated that goodness in the universe with God. Yet it was a different God than the one she had learned about at church and in Sunday school. The nuns had taught her about sins—mortal ones and venal ones—and the priest had explained one time that it would be a terrible sin ever to venture into a Protestant church. Theirs was a God of structure and rules and fear, not one of goodness. Hers, in contrast, was “harder to describe.” Looking into the twilight sky as a child, she knew only “the hugeness of some power that was a loving, creative power. I’d be pulled out of myself into it and become a part of it.” Sandra had gone to church through fifth grade mostly because her parents had vowed to raise their children in the church. When the Methodist minister who performed her wedding suggested she come to church, she said it didn’t interest her. And when the Presbyterian church that ran the nursery school hired her, she made it clear that she was not a church person and wanted nothing to do with the church. The only time that childhood yearning for God had reawakened was when her daughter was born. Sandra was filled with awe at the preciousness of life. She wanted to rejoice and give thanks. But the moment passed. Now, in her despair, she...

Share