Mary van Balen

This sonogram was shared by a friend whose daughter is expecting her first child. The baby in the picture is about the size of a quarter. Amazing, both the detail of the sonogram and the clearly developed features of the tiny baby.

"I think I will be feeling some kicking before long," the young mother said. The baby does look like she/he will be pushing the boundaries in this photo. I remember the first time I felt new life stirring within my womb. A sacred moment when the baby makes it's presence known. "Was it gas?" I wondered at the strange feeling in my abdomen? Not long after the kicks and stretches were unmistakable. Read More 

But Zion said, “The LORD has forsaken me;
my Lord has forgotten me.”
Can a mother forget her infant,
be without tenderness for the child of her womb?
Even should she forget,
I will never forget you.

Is 49,14-15



"No, my mother is bringing my lunch over," my second grade daughter told the boy who had offered to share a sandwich. We had been running late that morning, and I didn't have time to pack her lunch.

"Don't worry, honey. I will bring it over before you head to the cafeteria," I said when I dropped her off at school.

I am not sure what waited for me at home, but the hours passed and I completely forgot about taking over a lunch.

"No thank you," my daughter said with a smile when one of her teachers offered to buy a lunch for her. "My mother said she would bring my lunch over. She won't forget."

I don't remember if I completely missed her lunch hour or if I made it during the last five minutes, but suddenly, I remembered my promise, threw together a lunch, and rushed it over to the school which was across town. Read More 

PHOTO: Mary van Balen
One tradition I never have difficulty keeping is having last minute preparations to do on Christmas Eve. Try as I might, I am never quite ready by December 24. This year I am close, though. Today I decided to bake more cookies than I had originally intended to make.

My daughter was in the dining room, sewing away. Christmas music sung by Cambridge College's King's Choir played in the background. (We both missed other CD's that are packed away or given to someone else. The Cambridge choir is technically perfect, but as my daughter said, lacks energy and enthusiasm. Eventually we turned it off.)

I pulled out my standard Christmas recipes, handed down from my grandmother to my mother to me. Ginger snaps were the first. As I worked in mom's kitchen I remembered decades of Christmases when the house filled with sweet spicy smells of ginger cookies baking. I don't think a more tasty breakfast exists than one of ginger snaps and tea. Read More 

PHOTO: Mary van Balen
Unexpected activity on the homefront resulted in my arriving late for Mass,and I walked in while the celebrant was delivering his homily.

Bill, one of the hospitality misinters that morning, gave me an especially long, warm hug. I put my head on his shoulder and thanked him for his welcome. I love my little parish. No one feels judged there. All are welcome, even when they are late.  Read More 

PHOTOS:Mary van Balen
I live in the house where she and dad raised my four silblings and me. I sit on their couch, launder clothes in the washer she'd used for years and gaze out the dining room window, watching squirrels scamper up and down the grand pin oak in the front yard. Just like mom did, and her mother before her. Over the past two years since she died, many things remind me of her and I miss her face, her hugs, her love.

Thanksgiving preparations put an ache in my heart, a deep-down "missing mom" that lingered over dinner and remained as I fell into bed.

I used her rolling pin to make pie crusts.

"There's nothing to making a pie crust," she always said. Her mother, Becky, who lived with us, had said the same thing. I believed them and have made my own pastry since I could reach the counter. With every handful of flour, every pass of the rolling pin over the dough, I thought of her and tried to put as much love as she had done into each pie.

"Mom," I said, "I could use one of your smiles, or comments that everything will be fine. Read More 

MY MOTHER AND GRANDMOTHER




But Zion said, “The Lord has forsaken me, my Lord has forgotten me.”
Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb?
Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you.

Is 49, 14-15






These verses evoke sweet images of a mother nursing her child and caring for the young one she had carried in her womb. Whether or not one is a mother, the metaphor is powerful. Yet, I think that many of us who are mothers may have a deeper appreciation of these words than those who have not experienced the long wait from conception to birth and the miraculous moment of bringing new life into the world.

I speak from experience. As a young adult, I was sure I would never marry in spite of my parents’ deep love for one another and my mother’s fulfillment in her role as mother. When some of her female children and later grandchildren decided to marry late or chose advanced degrees and careers over starting a family, she shook her head and wondered why. For her, no career or degree could match the accomplishment of raising a family; it was the highest calling. Later, she was passionate about her job as a teaching assistant for mentally handicapped children. They became her extended family.

I was not interested in devoting so much of my time and energy to children. I had other things to do. Among my four closest college friends, I was the only one who declared I would never marry or have children. You guessed it: I was the only one who did!

Pregnant with my first, I debated about staying home or going to work after the baby was six months old or so. I worried about bonding with her. I still wanted to write, work for the Church, and go to graduate school. I had been part of an intentional community committed to serving the poor.  Read More