Mary van Balen

October came so fast, I didn't notice its arrival. That is unusual for me. Decades ago, moved by the exuberant beauty of an October day, I wrote a song celebrating just that. Waiting up til midnight on Sept. 30, I sang in the season, year after year. (see October 1, 2009 blogpost)Once I had children, we sometimes waited up together and sang in the lovely month that held not only amazingly clear blue skies and flaming trees, but also my birthday.

We had a number of October traditions, the most recent being my emailing my now grown children to wish them a happy October 1. This year, however, I was just too tired to remember. I had had a busy week: a webcast and a retreat and all the preparation that attends both. I worked at the department store on Sunday, Oct. 1, and the only time I really thought about the day was when I was driving to the store.

The sky was not the clear blue I like to associate with the month. Instead, grey clouds hung overhead. The trees caught my eye, though. Their leaves were beginning to show red and orange.

"Wow, the trees are turning early this year," I thought as I passed maples and gums. And then I remembered. It was October. When September blew by, I didn't know. I clocked in and worked through the day, tired and thinking mostly of getting back home and going to bed.  Read More 

Photo: Eprodicals.com
He is like a shepherd feeding his flock,
gathering lambs in his arms,
holding them against his breast
and leading to their rest the mother ewes. Is 40, 11

Tonight I came home from work hoping to write an encouraging or inspirational blog since I couldn't put one together this morning. I pulled up today's Mass readings, readings for the Liturgy of the Hours, and information on the saint whose feast we celebrate today: Saint Ambrose.

Good material, all of it, but I am not up for the task. Instead I identify with the mother ewes in the first reading who must have been completely exhausted. Isaiah doesn't say much about the mother ewes other than Jesus led them to their rest. Having raised three children I can identify with them. Children, blessing that they are, wear you out. "Physically, when you are younger," a theology prof once shared with me, "and emotionally when they are older."

Either way, the mother ends up worn out. Even though my weariness is not child related today,I am still one tired sheep. Read More 

During my second consecutive sleepless night I walked to the kitchen, toasted a slice of rye bread, and brewed a cup of herb tea, hoping comfort food would help me drift off before the alarm rang. I had a full day ahead but no energy to meet it. Exhaustion made me less stable and emotions took over. I thought about lack of employment and book manuscripts sitting somewhere on editors’ desks awaiting judgment; tears threatened.

“I just want something good to happen,” I spoke aloud to a God I hoped was listening. A job. An encouraging word from an editor. A place to make into a home. Sleep.

God wasn’t speaking. If she were, I imagined she would say that good things are happening: I have the blessing of time with my father to experience not only his aging, but also his bursts of humor and conversation. Students are excited about my class: “I can’t believe I am coming to a school where I can write papers about things that are really important to me,” one said as he left last week.

I began a mental list of “good things,” but it didn’t help. My heart was “on the ground,” and I couldn’t pick it up. As tears fell I remembered verses from Psalm 56’s lament: God takes note of my trials, my tossing and turning. God saves my tears in a bottle. Like a good mother, she knows when it was best to be still and hold her distraught daughter, letting the warmth and security of constant love give comfort words could not give.

Eventually I did fall asleep. I didn’t get enough, though, and dismissed class early the next night. I walked slowly to my car rolling behind me the small carry-on that held my computer, text books, notes and papers. At home I lugged the heavy suitcase upstairs and got ready for bed. I doubted I would need any help falling to sleep, and pulling the sheet up to my chin I smiled a sleepy smile. Someone cared enough to put my tears in a bottle. Read More