My Father

PHOTO: Mary van Balen On Father’s Day I was winging my way to Collegeville, MN to participate in a weeklong writing workshop with Lauren Winner. My father was winging right along with me, I know. And how appropriate: Father’s Day. I can’t imagine a better father. Right up to his last days he was encouraging, giving hugs, and bestowing his warm smile. Love sparkled out of his blue eyes. Everyone at the nursing home loved dad. “A real gentleman.” “Such a sweet man.” “He waved at us when he was wheeled into the dining room.”

My blessing. My grace to have such a father. I remember working with him in his workshop when I was a high school junior. I wanted to enter a painting contest and even though I could not fit art class into my college prep schedule, the art teacher had agreed to sign off on my entry. Dad was stretching fabric over a piece of wood. I wanted to paint a pregnant Mary, never having seen an image of her carry the child before.

Dad and I talked as we worked. I confided my dream of writing a book. As was usual in our home, I was given encouragement.

“Honey, if anyone can do it, you can. If you want to write a book, you will.”

He smiled his “reach down inside you and give your heart a hug” smile, and I knew he was right. If he believed I could write a book then I could. Case closed.

And I did.

When I was a resident scholar in Collegeville a few years ago, Dad and Mom were behind my venture. Mom died of cancer during my first month there. Unknown to me until a couple of years later, mom had said, “Joe, if Mary needs anything while she is in Minnesota, you make sure she has it.”

He did.

My computer died in October and Dad bought me a new one. He was all encouragement when I called to chat with him.

Now, back in Collegeville, I know he is rooting me on. He and mom, together again, telling me I can write a book. I will succeed. Telling me I must do the work my heart tells me is mine to do.

I miss Dad. I miss Mom, too. I remember them at morning prayer at the Abbey. I remember them in my apartment study. I give thanks for their lives of love and generosity. My work is partly their work, and I want to make them proud!