Mary van Balen

I stand on the patio behind the apartment and watch rain pour down in long lines, like strokes from a pen, shrouding everything in gray. Thunder rumbles in the background. A small chickadee, sinichka my friend from St. Petersburg called them, takes shelter in the blue spruce beside me. We are both hushed into reverential silence. I stand close to the brick house, beneath the overhang. Together, sinichka and I feel the wind and watch it play across the water, patches of light blooming and then, just as quickly, dissoloving back into dark as the wind changes its mind and churns up brightness somewhere else on the lake. Sometimes the light races across the surface, hanging on to the wind, but can't keep up and lets go, falling back into smooth green water.

We wait, sinichka and I. I'm not sure what she waits for. I suspect that once the heavy rain turns into a gentle summer shower, she will fly off in search of food, calling out "chick a dee dee dee" as she dips and darts away. I am waiting for Grace.  Read More 

PHOTO: Mary van Balen
Be patient, brothers, until the Lord’s coming. Think of a farmer: how patiently he waits for the precious fruit of the ground until it has had the autumn rains and the spring rains! You too have to be patient; do not lose heart, because the Lord’s coming will be soon. The Judge is already to be seen waiting at the gates.James 5:7-8,9

The reading from this evenings Vespers speaks to my heart. While life seems to fly by the older one becomes, it can also seem to crawl along. Finding a job, for example, takes forever these days. Many things in life take time to unfold, and I try to hurry it along. That is not a good habit, I have discovered, but it is difficult to break.  Read More 

PHOTO: "HEPATICA" by MARY VAN BALEN


Do not remember the former things,
or consider the things of old.
I am about to do a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
Is 43, 18-19



I was driving home and complaining to the One who claims to love me and watch over me, like sparrows, lilies, and hairs on my head. Most of my seventy-some job applications had disappeared without a whisper into the silence of cyberspace, and the few responses that had come back said, “Thanks, but no thanks.” Going to graduate school was a desirable alternative to finding a fulltime job, but that, too, was unsure.

“I am sick of not knowing what to expect,” I blurted out.  Read More