Join Me for a Journaling Retreat
August 26, 2014 By Leave a Comment

Join Me for a Journaling Retreat

mkvbh-210-Journal_from_jeJournaling has long been a way of prayer for me. Writing can help me be present to the moment, aware of Grace in ordinary experiences. It also helps me reflect on life as it unfolds. Sometimes it’s a book or movie that touches my spirit. Sometimes a passage from Scripture or a photo, or a conversation. It might be current events or listening to YoYo Ma.

What begins as thoughts and feelings scribbled across pages becomes prayer: Lament, thanksgiving, plea for help, or simple amazement. My journals are my books of prayer.

Come join me on Sept. 13 at Corpus Christi Center of Peace and begin to create your own. We will spend the day exploring different approaches to journaling. Whether you are new to the practice or an experienced journaler, you’ll find something new to take home with you.

Journaling the Journey flyer for Corpus Christi CoP 2014-1

 

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A Bad Hair Sunday
August 12, 2014 By Leave a Comment

A Bad Hair Sunday

PHOTO:Mary van Balen

PHOTO:Mary van Balen

One look in the mirror told me I would not get away without washing and blow drying my hair. It is cut short for a few reasons. Besides liking how it looks, I also like being able to run a brush through it and head out to work, the grocery store, whatever. I thought I could do that on Sunday, so I dressed for work thinking I’d attend mass at St. Thomas, visit with friends, and then head to work. No so much.

Instead, I attended a church just a few minutes away. I would have time to return home and tame that head of hair. CPAP machine or Providence, not sure which did the job on my hair, but the service was filled with just what I needed to hear. I had written last week’s column on the OT reading and in the process had read through Mass readings for the week. Still, hearing the three readings proclaimed provides a fresh look, as does the homily.

The day began with feelings of frustration and discouragement: No news on the book, as usual. Working still selling stuff. My house was a mess. I hadn’t slept well. Generally, I was feeling a bit sorry for myself and unsure how to shake free of my “mood.”

Singing helps. One of the wonderful things about church on Sunday is singing. I used to sing all the time, guitar in hand, by myself or with others at sing-a-longs or other gatherings. Years ago, I had painted a sun and flower on my guitar case along with the words “How Can I Keep from Singing,”one of my favorites sung by Pete Seeger. So, belting out a few good songs feels good. Three singers including a piano player kept the tempo up and their harmonies were stirring. The words of the readings sunk deep into my heart: Elijah had to listen closely to hear a whisper…Jesus needed to take time to pray, by himself, in quiet…Peter did OK walking on water until he took his eyes of Jesus. Then he began to sink.

I need to pray in quiet times, not only as I go about my day at home and at work. While that prayer is also important, it’s different. Sometimes silence is what I need to listen, to hear. Taking one’s eyes off God is easy to do. Walking on water or making it through another day at work, it’s all the same. Lots of distractions. Lots of opportunities to focus on one’s self or what isn’t going as one hopes or what is. Jesus was about Love and service, and listening to the One who sent him into this world. It doesn’t sound difficult or at least not impossible. I suppose, at the moment, walking on water didn’t sound difficult to Peter either. It wasn’t as long as he walked in faith.

I was feeling better. I could take some quiet time before work. Eucharist was nourishing. As if all that were not enough, the closing song was none other than “How Can I Keep From Singing.” I couldn’t. Thinking of Pete Seeger and others who have walked this earth faithful witness to Love and service, I sang all the way home.

 

 

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Prayer: When Words Fail
July 24, 2014 By Leave a Comment

Prayer: When Words Fail

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

 

Let me seek, then, the gift of silence, and poverty, and solitude, where everything I touch is turned into prayer: where the sky is my prayer, the birds are my prayer, the wind in the trees is my prayer, for God is in all.

Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude
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Reentry
July 19, 2014 By 2 Comments

Reentry

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Reentry is always a challenge whether one is returning to work or school from vacation, rejoining estranged groups of family or friends, adjusting to changing seasons, or for a select few, taking the bumpy ride back into earth’s atmosphere from a stint in outer space. When we “enter again” we are not the same people we were when we left. If they do what is intended, vacations change us into more relaxed and revitalized versions of ourselves. Engaging again with people who have caused us hurt or pain or whom we have hurt and avoided requires growth and maturity, an open heart and a bit of courage. I can’t imagine the change in perspective that affects those human beings who have had the privilege of seeing the earth from outer space. (A stunning book of photographs and reflections of astronauts from around the world give a glimpse into that experience: The Home Planet by Kevin W. Kelley ed. with a forward by Jacques-Yves Cousteau. I am not sure it is available to purchase, but you might find a used copy or one in a library.)

Wherever we are coming from and going to, retuning to life’s routines after a time away presents opportunities. Can I return to work without allowing the pace, atmosphere, and demands overwhelm me? If it’s a job I don’t like, can I keep a positive attitude and look for what is good in it? Am I able to let go of anger and the urge to see just one point of view, mine, when attempting to reconnect with those I’ve been avoiding?

I’m experiencing a reentry myself. After a ten day residency for a two-year spiritual guidance program, I’m doing laundry and preparing to return to work, writing, and family connections. It’s not easy. While the schedule was full of presentations, reflections, and hard work, it also provided a silent sabbath of retreat for a couple of days. The class had gathered from around the country and new and deep friendships were begun.

For ten days I didn’t have to prepare food or wash dishes. I could wander around the fifty-acre spiritual center in Maryland listening to birds and watching deer, foxes, and fireflies. On the night of the Perigee Moon (Super Moon) I found a comfortable place to sit and kept vigil with binoculars and a camera, fueled by a homemade chocolate chip cookie and cup of tea.

Part of the gift of the residency was the opportunity to cultivate a quiet, listening heart, sharing silence as well as conversation and presentations as a group. We focused on the Divine Presence in our lives and in the lives of those we serve. We held in prayer those dear to us, those hurting in our world torn by violence, and creation that offers solace and grace even while reeling from effects of 7 billion people living on the planet.

The night before we would all return home, our class had a party. Spontaneous. Food showed up on tables. People pitched in to arrange the space. Lots of talk. Lots of laughter. I walked over to add some snacks to my plate and laughed when I saw what a couple of clever folks had added to the offerings: From Trader Joes: Inner Peas. From Brewer’s Art in Maryland: Resurrection Beer.

Two things to remember as I ease back into life at home: Take time to be still and to cultivate the sense of living in the Divine Presence.  Have faith that God brings good from all things and invites us to be part of bringing Grace into the world, into our time and place and to rest in the Spirit that blows where it will.

And, when I forget, I just might pick up a bag of Inner Peas, wash them down with some Resurrection Beer and move into prayerful silence.

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I Need Pentecost
June 9, 2014 By Leave a Comment

I Need Pentecost

Photo: Mary van Balen-Detail Lectern Holy Trinity Church, Sloane Square, London

Photo: Mary van Balen-Detail Lectern Holy Trinity Church, Sloane Square, London

Of Sunday’s two readings describing the coming of the Holy Spirit to the disciples, I have always preferred the one from John’s gospel where Jesus on his followers huddled in fear behind locked doors and says simple, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” Never one for lots of drama and fanfare, this account is quiet. The Spirit comes with a breath. No one jumps up mysteriously speaking so everyone can understand no matter the language. No instant transformation. These same disciples are huddled together when Jesus returns again (Granted, he does come through locked doors. A bit of drama.)to show his wounds to the unconvinced Thomas.

All in all, the followers of Jesus needed some time to respond to the gift of Spirit. Life had been confusing. Jesus had been crucified. Nothing turned out as they had expected. The Spirit had a lot of work to do, sinking into the hearts and souls of these wounded and confused folks. They needed time.

Maybe that’s another reason I like this description of the coming of the Holy Spirit: It resonates. Life has not turned out as I had expected either. Does it ever? I need time to heal from the deeper hurts. I need time to get up from life’s more stinging blows and, when I do, to rebuild trust in this God of the Psalms who, despite being billed as our guardian and protecter, sometimes lets things slip by, at least from my perspective.

So, I basked in the Pentecost celebration at Mass yesterday, swaying to  songs with beats from Pentecostal to Caribbean. I soaked up joy and hope. This morning, as I read today’s Mass readings I stuck with the Psalmist’s prayer, “My help is in the One who made heaven and earth,” and know that, like the disciples, I will grow into  deeper trust and the peace that comes on the same breath as the Spirit

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Ordinary Grace
March 24, 2014 By Leave a Comment

Ordinary Grace

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

I had a marvelous friend who was a great artist, Marvin Triguba. Once, when I marveled at the way he captured light in his paintings, he said, “That’s how I see, and I paint what I see.” He wondered aloud, “doesn’t everyone see light that way?”

No, I would have to say. Not in such a conscious way. Of course, light creates shadows and bright spaces. It gives form and definition to what we see. It entered Marvin’s eyes as it did mine, but what his brain did with that raw material was astounding. Me? Sometimes I recognize the ordinary grace that comes with light.

I thought of Marvin a couple of days ago when I looked into the dining room and was stunned by the beauty of morning light playing across the hardwood floors. Some of the boards seemed all light. Others, darker in hue, glowed. I allowed the beauty of that moment to enter not only my eyes and brain, but also my soul.

This morning, when I turned into the living room from the hall, my eyes were bathed in bright light filtering through half-opened mini-blinds and green leaves in a variety of shapes and shades. I drew a quick breath and moved toward the window, putting myself in a place where the light would bathe me, too. Grace.

Isn’t that prayer? Intentionally putting ourselves into a soul space that is open to receive the Holy pouring into it? Longing for Presence as my plants, and my soul, longed for light this morning?

Artist God, who floods the world in Glory, enter my heart. Flood my soul with light that shows not only bright places there, but also shadow places. Open my inner eye to see the beauty of myself as you have made me. The beauty of creation. I give thanks for the artists, like Marvin, that you have given to the world. Their vision and work remind us of the Grace of light.

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January 16, 2014 By Leave a Comment

A New Year’s Resolution: Always Open

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Originally published in the Catholic Times   January 19, 2014

Often on New Years, people make resolutions. According to a survey by the University of Scranton’s Journal of Clinical Psychology, about forty-eight percent of Americans usually make resolutions while only about 8 percent successfully keep them. Top on the list? Losing weight. Getting organized, spending less and saving more, and enjoying life to the fullest are next. Staying healthy, learning something exciting, and quitting smoking follow. Helping others achieve their goals, falling in love, and spending more time with family round out the top ten.

I’m not a list maker, but there are a few exceptions: If I don’t make a grocery list, I end up buying too much, and when I travel, I make a list of what I should pack. When working on a long-term writing project or composing a talk, I make notes, an unorganized brainstorming list at first that eventually takes shape.

At the beginning of the New Year, I sometimes open my journal, jotting down thoughts and goals for the months ahead. This year’s inspiration came as I shared the first dinner of 2014 with a small group of friends. Before eating, we joined hands while one spoke a blessing beautiful in its simplicity and breadth. Fitting for a new year, it included those present as well as friends and family far away, the gift of creation, the food, and the hands that prepared it, and thanksgiving for the Holy One who sustains all.

The words that stayed with me as I drove home later that evening were the ones inviting us always to be open and receptive to Grace, God’s Self, as it is given. This thought suggested a resolution different from those that commit us to change something in our lives, those that depend on our activity. We can do or not do something to achieve those goals. For example, many of us can develop the discipline necessary to eat less and more healthily. We can give our best efforts toward quitting smoking, learning something, or spending more time with family and friends. These things require us to do something.

The resolution playing in my mind that night was different. It called me to still my heart, not so much to do something as to be something: to be open, to be ready. I can’t make Grace come; I simply receive it when it does.

Unlike watching pounds drop away on a scale or playing a game with your family, becoming receptive to Grace is not something we can see or measure. Sometimes, even when Grace fills our hearts, we don’t know it.

This kind of “resolution” requires faith. Faith that the Holy One is always pouring out Divine Life, faith that this Fountain-Fullness never runs dry, faith that my soul is capable of holding such precious Gift.

Always being open to receive Grace differs from typical resolutions in another way, too. While many New Year’s promises call us to transform ourselves into something “better,” the resolution of openness tells us we are already “good,” good enough that God trusts us with Divine Life. We don’t do the changing. It is that Life that changes us.

© 2014 Mary van Balen

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Pope Francis’s Urbi et Orbi Message
December 25, 2013 By Leave a Comment

Pope Francis’s Urbi et Orbi Message

urbi et orbi 2013Pope Francis addressed the “City and the World” today in the traditional Urbi et Orbi message as thousands gathered to here him and receive the Christmas blessing. (read it here)

Francis asked all to join their voices with those of the angels at the birth of Jesus, singing God’s praises and promising peace on earth. He then gathered all the hurting world into God’s embrace, naming victims of war, especially children, and then the elderly, battered women, and the sick. He named countries suffering from war and violence today, refugees like those who perished at Lampedusa, and children forced to become soldiers. The pope also prayed for the earth, so often exploited by greed.

Reading his words, I sensed his desired to gather all into the loving embrace of God; his hope that all would experience that love and holy Presence. His use of the words “God’s caresses” were particularly tender, and he hoped all would feel them. We don’t feel them in a vacuum. We, citizens of the world, are responsible to give glory to God not only in word, but more importantly, with our lives “spent for love of him and of all our brothers and sisters.”

In a departure from the script, Pope Francis included non believers in his call for prayer for peace, asking them to join with people of all faiths praying for peace by desiring it in their hearts: ” And I also invite non-believers to desire peace with that yearning that makes the heart grow: all united, either by prayer or by desire. But all of us, for peace.”

This pope knows all humanity is in this together. We need one another, no matter the faith, denomination, or no faith. All for peace.

Amen.

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DEEPENING: 7 Moving into Quiet
November 19, 2013 By Leave a Comment

DEEPENING: 7 Moving into Quiet

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

By the time I get to lighting my candles and settling into quiet prayer, I’m fighting a losing battle. My mind is already racing, making mental to-do lists, beating myself up for what I haven’t done, and thinking of family, friends, typhoon victims, government disfunction…you name it.

I try desperately to empty my mind, but to no avail. Breathing in and out, slowly repeating my mantra word. Nothing. Then, this morning, I became aware of my cold feet resting on the wooden floor. “Why didn’t I put on socks?”  Suddenly, the thought came: “Just be present to your cold feet. To the moment.” I did.

After cold feet, the smoothness of the wood beneath caught my attention. I sat with that for a while. Then it was the stiffness of my new knee. I quit trying to still my mind and instead let it focus on the present. A slight bit or warmth on my cheek and a rosy glow visible through my closed eyelids alerted me to bright sunlight. I opened my eyes and saw the patterns it made as it poured through the mini-blinds and pushed around the wrought iron candelabrum by daughter had made.

I became aware of the life-giving gift of the sun shining on our planet from the center of our solar system. Amazing. I sat, amazed, for while before the candle flame’s reflection, dancing on the votive’s clear glass caught my attention. I watched as it stretched and lengthened. Tow images from one flame. The bloom on top of the wick glowed orange and the beeswax smelled sweet.

My mind wasn’t racing.

I guess I can’t go cold turkey from crazy busy thoughts to stillness. Instead, being truly present to myself in this place and in this time slowed me down. God was there in the cold, the light, the flame, the moment, where the Divine always is.

And, for a moment, I moved into a graced moment of quiet gratitude.

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November 8, 2013 By Leave a Comment

DEEPENING: 5 Distractions

candle and labyrinthI followed the labyrinth path with the stylus. This time, I arrived at the center. Either luck or I am better at paying attention. Still, as I sit with the candle burning and quiet surrounding me, I struggle to just “be” with God. Distractions continue. Great lines for a blog or an article or a letter to a publisher. At least they seem great at the moment. Reluctantly, I let them go, trusting if they are that good they will return after prayer time. Schedule. Not as much there as in the past. Mostly keeping up therapy and doctor appointments. Those are easier to ignore…I know they are written in my appointment book.

Breathe in. Breathe out. “Pre…sence. Pre…sence.”

Remember sitting with a beloved, one with whom you have fallen in love, head over heels? Years ago, decades really, my roommate complained. When I was with my boyfriend, I was oblivious to everything and everyone else, and that included her. Of course, that absorption didn’t last forever, but I do remember it. Distractions weren’t a problem; bringing myself back to reality was!

I would like to sit with God that way. I have done so, now and then, in the past, but I’ve lost the ability. For now, I listen to the voices that intrude on time set aside for quiet prayer, and then let them go. The problem is, they seem to be waiting in an unending line: Adult children, finding a publisher, writing an article, disturbing news articles, glorious sunlight pouring in the windows (or rain pelting against them). “To dos.” “Wish I had dones.”  I listen then let them go.

When the allotted time has passed, I realize that of the half hour, I may have had a few moments of true silence and simply “being.” But I was there. In the chair. Giving it my best…

…Patient One, I take comfort in the knowledge that when you look at me, you see your daughter, taking time to be with you. You don’t count the minutes my mind wanters or struggles to simply be with you. Like a parent happy to see an adult child pull into the driveway and come through the door. No matter what the visit brings, there is joy at their coming. Their thinking of you. I’ll be back tomorrow, and I know you’ll be glad.   Amen

 

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