Mary van Balen

"A Morte da floresta é o fim da nossa vida" which is Portuguese for "The death of the forest is the end of our life."
(The quote printed on the white t-shirt often worn by Dorothy Stang.)




In "Give Us This Day," a reflection on the life and mission of Sr. Dorothy Stang, murdered advocate for poor farmers in the Brazilian Amazon and the rainforest that is their home, was places on the page facing this morning's Mass reading from Genesis 1:20-2,4a. It seems fitting to reflect on the life of the courageous woman from Dayton, Ohio and the words of scripture recounting God's creating the universe and this earth out of primal chaos. "God looked at everything he had made, and he found it very good."

So did Dorothy. She loved the rainforest and the poor people it shelters and helped indigenous people farm small plots enabling them to make a living without decimating the forest. She gave her life protecting them and their home from greedy land owners and loggers who exploited both for personal gain. Dorothy was murdered walking on her way to a meeting with local farmers, the Bible her only "weapon."  Read More 

"Have you celebrated that, Mom?" my daughter asked as I mentioned that this month would mark the beginning of my twenty-seventh year of writing my monthly column, "Grace in the Moment."

"Well, no. Not really."

"Well, you should. You should celebrate your accomplishments, and that is a big one."

I conceded that one ought to celebrate, but wasn't sure how to do something like that. I mean, shouldn't someone else plan the celebrating? It seems odd to throw a party for yourself.

"It doesn't have to be something big. Go out with a friend and have a drink, or go to lunch, or something."

She had a point. Our lives are busy with work, family, and friends. The house can always use some attention. There is shopping and laundry, and yard work. Who has time to think about celebrations? But we should.

Honoring our achievements is not bragging. It is a way to reverence who we are and the way we contribute to the world. Sometimes by our work. Sometimes just by who we are. Recognizing an accomplishment empowers us to go on, to build on what we have done. It is as much a push to the future as it is a nod to the past. Celebrating milestones is a kind of self-care: making sure we appreciate and nurture the gifts we have. Read More 

(Originally published in the Catholic Times, September 9, 2012 © 2012 Mary van Balen)

I write these words of the night of the Blue Moon. The last one we will see for a few years, it is most commonly defined as the second full moon in a month. (This is not the only definition, but perhaps the simplest.) This is also the day Neil Armstrong, first human being to set foot on the moon, was buried in Cincinnati. This conjunction of events seems fitting, and when I looked up at the moon peeking through clouds, I thought of the long years of research, planning, building, and training that preceded the first “leap for mankind.” Without such sacrifice, such disciplined use of time and energy, the momentous step would not have been taken.

Thursday’s readings for the Liturgy of the Hours address the importance of using time well and avoiding self-indulgence. Saint Paul, in Galatians 5, says we are “called to liberty,” and then warned his readers to be careful since “liberty will provide and opening for self-indulgence.” The Spirit calls us to be busy about “works of love,” but we do not always rise to the occasion. At least I don’t.

I had some time off work and following a few days of concentrated effort, I confess to accomplishing little today. I did use food I had on hand to make tomato sauce and bake the eggplant that was on the verge of spoiling. I cleaned the kitchen. I did a little writing, but not as much as I had hoped. I had good intentions, but according to Paul, since the temptation to self- indulgence is at odds with the Spirit, “you do not always carry out your good intentions.” That’s me. Read More 

After a longish day of travel that took me to Seattle via Tennesee, I met my friend Kathryn and her husband Gary for my first experience of Washington state. First impression? Cool, almost cold! Wonderful relief coming from parched midwest. Gary parked the car and we took a walk along Puget Sound until arriving at one of their favorite little seafood diners. All types of seafood was breaded and fried by the owner, an older man who had been running the Sun Fish for quite a few years. Kathryn and Gary had salmon. I tried scallops. Not greasy. Delicious.

We walked back by the beach dotted with white tents, closed, which sheltered all types of art work. A festival of somesort. Along the water, three groups had built roaring bonefires in large firerings. I don't know if they used driftwood, but it was plentiful. Frisbees, dogs, laughter, music, all part of the scene. But, the one who stole the show was the bubble lady of Puget Sound. At least that is what I called her. She was using poles about six feet long connected with fabric "rope," and dipped into what I can only say was amazing "bubble juice." The crowd around her grew as she raised the poles above her head, holding them about a foot apart, and walked slowly, allowing the air to create huge bubbles that twisted and grew, alive with color and movement. So alive did they appear that we were all surpised when they suddenly dissolved into white film that fell to the ground.

She blew into the swirling film and created bubbles inside of bubbles, holding us all, young and old, spellbound. I remembered making a much smaller version of the bubble poles for my children and to use in school settings, but I had not developed a bubble solution as fullproof as the bubble lady's. When she was taking a rest, I walked over and began a conversation. She sells the "bubble juice" that she had developed far beyond my own dishwashing liquid and glycerin. She also photographs the bubbles and hopes to sell large prints to those decorating office buildings. (You can view her bubbles at Big Dipper Bubbles

"My bubbles are art," she said. Kathryn, Gary, and I agreed. Art in the moment, and art caught by a camera. We didn't have the opportunity to see the photos. Disappointing. I will check her website. But what a perfect way to begin a week-long visit with friends: Celebrating life, its simplicity, its beauty, its serendipity. The bubble lady set the tone for this trip to the Northwest that would nourish my spirit with joy and prayer as well as my body with as much seafood as I can resaonably put into it!
 Read More 

“The kingdom of heaven is like a king who prepared a wedding banquet for his son... “Then he sent some more servants and said, ‘Tell those who have been invited that I have prepared my dinner: My oxen and fattened cattle have been butchered, and everything is ready. Come to the wedding banquet.’ Mt 22, 1-2;4


"I'm too frazzled!" my older sister, Jan, said as she walked back into the front door of her home a minute after having left. "I'm looking for my phone. Have you seen it? I'll call my self. If you hear it ring, bring it out to the car. I'll go out as see if I have it somewhere in my purse."

She disappeared through the door again. I heard no ring, walked to the front door, looked out, and saw her giving me a thumbs up. I walked back to the kitchen, hung up the phone and smiled as I looked at the cake and supplies waiting in the family room for pick up.

My sister's youngest of five children (and only daughter) had been married in Texas two months ago. Today Jan and Howard are having a reception for the new couple in their hometown for family and friends who were unable to make the trip to Texas.

No wonder Jan was feeling frazzled. Despite a troublesome back and a full schedule helping with grandchildren, involvement in an outreach to the poor in a crowded urban city, and various commitments to her church community, Jan had managed to bake her wonderful carrot cake into a large, three tiered wedding cake. Read More 

"Hurray," I shouted.

"It's on!," my neighbor said.

I was never as happy to see a headlight shine bright as I was tonight. My daughter and her friend had taken me to dinner and while driving home I remembered that I had two new headlight bulbs in the back seat for her to install. I called. She said the owner's manual would give me directions and the job should not be difficult.

"If you can't get it, I can help tomorrow night."

"OK. I'll give it a try when I am home."

I turned into the driveway and pulled close to the garage incase the job lasted longer than the evening light. The manual made it sound easy if I could figure out what the "hold down wire" was and if the power steering fluid holder came out easily. In just a few minutes I had the new bulbs out along with a packet of some sort of grease that the salesman said I could put on the connectors. Read More 

PHOTOS:Mary van Balen
Short gray hair replaced the long dark cascades that framed her face in younger years and some songs were voiced in a lower pitch, but Joan Baez still sang songs that called blessings on the poor and homeless, the "salt of the earth," that lamented the injustice suffered by "deportees," and that called for peace.

Her voice occasionally soared in the same hauntingly clear tremulous soprano tones that had filled concert halls and farm worker's fields in the 60's and 70's. More often, the sound was softer, and once the ending of piece appeared sooner than expected, dangling awkwardly for a moment between her and the young man who was accompanying her on guitar.

"We love you, Joan!" someone in the audience shouted.

She looked up. "Even with all my flaws?"  Read More 

PHOTOS: Mary van Balen

"Exultation is the going
of an inland soul to the sea
Past houses – past headlands–
Into deep Eternity." Emily Dickinson

Such was the gift my daughter gave to me last week in celebration of my 60th birthday. The deep spiritual connection of my "inland soul" to sea is well known to family and friends, and for me, time at the beach is more retreat than vacation. This trip was no different. Read More 

Photo: Mary van Balen
On the last two mornings of September I walked with a friend along paths that wended through her property. New England Asters, golden rod, bindweed, and bittersweet splashed color across fields of browning green grasses and dark stalks that once held summer flowers. Fog hung hundreds of spider webs with crystal drops revealing the variety of design: some webs lay close to the ground, others hung between tall grasses. Later, we sipped tea and ate a breakfast of dates, nuts, and thin toast with butter. A perfect way to say good-bye to summer and September. Read More