Mary van Balen

When my daughter briefly entered graduate school in science and math education, she did a short stint in an affluent suburban high school physics class. Besides being disappointed in the interest and knowledge base of the students, she was surprised by the software being used. Instead of actually building small "contraptions" to test various energy sources (springs, levers, weights, etc) the students manipulated models on a computer program.

"If the spring didn't work, 'click,' they replaced it with something else. If that didn't work, 'click.' No one was invested in the project. They didn't have to be. They just clicked their way to the correct answer, not having to give much thought let alone time to the process."

I thought of this conversation while reading an article in the Oct 8 edition of the New York Times, "Inflating the Software Report Card," by Trip Gavriel and Matt Richtel. Basically, the article reviewed rating systems for the success of computer based curricula and found them misleading.

My experience as a teacher and programming director as well as being the mom of three children tells me that acting on concrete materials is indispensable in the process of learning. Read More 

Almost two months have passed since my last blog. The reasons are many. The most important is the passing of my father, Joseph Van Balen. My siblings and I have shared Dad's care for about two years. Despite evenings when I wanted to drive home after a long day at work rather than drive to have dinner and a walk with Dad, I was always richer for having spent time with him. I hope the hours we spent together were as much a blessing for him as they were for me.

He was a gentle man who touched the lives not only of his family, but of everyone who walked through his door. Along with Mom, he had an easy way of making visitors feel special, giving them undivided attention and, of course, food and drink.

He was a wonderful father providing unconditional love to each of us. Once, a friend who was a priest told me he wanted to meet my father. He gave Dad much credit for my knowing of God as loving Presence in my life. How true that parents are a child's first glimpse of God, the one they trust, the one they depend on. Mom and Dad gave us experience of unlimited love that could be counted on, no matter what. Read More 

While cleaning my parents' home, I came across a framed print of the Sacred Heart of Jesus that hung in their bedroom. Devotion to the Sacred Heart was not big in our home. I think someone gave the picture to my mother, a convert, when she entered the Catholic Church. Jesus always looked a little wimpy to me, and I couldn't get into the "heart on his chest" image. I donated the print to a local Saint Vincent de Paul shop figuring someone who frequented the store might want it.

Beginning the search for an image to place in this blog, I was sure I would recognize the painting. I don't know why, but I was surprised at the number of choices that popped up. I scrolled through the pages expecting one to jump out at me with its familiarity. In one Jesus is barely able to balance the huge gold crown on his head while balancing a globe on his left hand. Lest one lose sight of the heart, he obligingly pointed it out with his right hand. Read More 

"I am SO glad this is August 2 and the mess in Washington, for better or worse, is finally over."

Noreen, my spiritual director and friend was gathering our small spirituality group for prayer after dinner and expressed her relief that at last, for a moment anyway, there was quiet in Washington. I think many agree with her. The constant talk, attacks, and general cacophony made one want to turn off the tube and retreat to a monastery hoping to find some common sense and quiet.

Silence enough to be in touch with our true selves and the Holy Presence within is hard to come by these days. Resting in it requires a conscious choice and effort. "Noise" takes many forms. The obvious is aural - sounds that fill our days. Speech, music, traffic, appliances, TV, radio. Where I work two televisions hung outside fitting rooms compete for attention with Muzak, not to mention the buzz of customers who sometimes check out while talking on their phones. Read More 

News stations have a countdown clock ticking off minutes as the deadline to raise the United States debt ceiling approaches. Tuesday is the day, and many Americans are watching to see what will happen. Will the US default on its debts? Will our representatives and senators be able to transcend their philosophical differences and compromise?

Jim Wallis of Sojourners suggests that someone other than politicians, the American public, and financial experts around the world are watching the process: God is watching, too.

Read his blog God Is Watching; it expresses my feelings and those of many around the world. I cannot understand a political philosophy that is comfortable with keeping tax loopholes for huge corporations and tax cuts for the richest Americans while proposing huge cuts in Social Security and Medicare as well as funding cuts for numerous social services and education. Read More 

He was listed under "Other Saints" on the Universalis:Today site that designated today as simply Wednesday of week 17 of the year. I had never heard of Titus (Anno) Brandsma, but his birth in Friesland, Holland (place of my family's origin), work as a journalist, and contemplative spirituality (He was a Carmelite priest.) piqued my curiosity. I googled his name and found numerous sites that provided information on this man who, along with the Dutch Church, refused to accept Nazi orders for Catholic newspapers to print Nazi articles and who eventually paid for public resistance with his life.

Perhaps journalists who work for Catholic newspapers or magazines know of this man. If not, I will do my part to introduce him. An interesting biography including photos appears on a Carmelite website. The same website hosts a series of short essays or meditations on his life written by social worker, Jane Lytle-Vieira, a member of the Carmelite’s Third Order and a graduate studying theology. Read More 

This blog is named after the symbol for pilgrimage that had its beginnings with the great pilgrimage to the cathedral of Santiago de Compestela in Galicia in Northwest Spain: The scallop shell. The connection of this shell with pilgrimage is rooted in both use and legend.

The legend surrounds Saint James the Greater, whose feast we celebrate today. Along with his brother John, James identified in Scripture as one of the sons of Zebedee. Jesus called them "Boanerges," or "sons of thunder," giving us some idea of their temperament! (Mk 3, 17). The mother of James and John, most likely Salome, asked Jesus to guarantee her sons places at his right and left hand when he came into his kingdom. After receiving their assurance that they could drink of the same cup that Jesus would drink, he promised them not places of honor but a share in his suffering.

James was beheaded in 44CE by Herod Agrippa I, who was trying his best to appease the Jewish population that was upset by the increasing number of followers of the Way, of Jesus. Legends abound about the remains of St. James. One claims that his body was miraculously transported to Northwest Spain and finally resting in Compestela. Here begins the legend that connects James with the scallop shell. Some stories have his body transported in a boat without a crew, or even a sarcarpchogas, arriving covered with scallops. Another claims that the arrival of this mysterious boat coincided with a wedding on shore. When the boat appeared, the grooms horse was spooked and plunged into the sea only to return with its rider, both covered with the shells.

Whatever happened, the scallop shell became the symbol of the pilgrimage to the place believed to hold the remains of the saint. Read More 

By the time my daughter picked me up at my destination, the cell phone mystery had been solved: I left it at home when I put it down on the kitchen counter to hang up my keys before leaving. WIthout the worry of having lost it, I have had a wonderful few days without it. I can't call home and no one can call me. No phone conversations while shopping, riding to the beach, or visiting with my daughter.

Since nothing drastic has happened, I feel no need to communicate with folks back home. One advantage to not having a cell phone is the ability to be unavailable. Years ago, I wrote a column about the dangers of being available all day, every day. What was once a novelty has become a necessity. I have heard people complain when the person they want to call does not answer. Read More 

I arrived at the airport in plenty of time. My flight was delayed, enabling me to grab a quick breakfast. While waiting for the food to arrive, I decided to check out my cell phone. It had to be SOMEWHERE in my black carry on, I told myself as I rummaged through it. No luck.

I unloaded everything. Still no phone. The only other customer at Max and Erma's was a kind man who lent me his phone. I called my sister, suspecting that the phone had fallen out in her trunk (still my hope). No answer. I left a message.

"Try calling your phone," the man suggested. Of course!

"It's ringing SOMEWHERE," he said with a smile.  Read More 

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