Waiting

December 10, 2023 By Mary van Balen 14 Comments

Grace Finds a Way

Who knew that a tiny moth larva could turn my house upside down? Emptying, scrubbing, and bleaching that one, packed closet and reevaluating which items I wanted to keep took all day. Rearranging what remained led me to take a closer look at other closets, cupboards, and storage bins in the basement. More cleaning, trips to donation centers, and filled trash bags.

A couple of days before Advent, my house was still a disaster. I began the morning with quiet time, determined to make mental and physical space for the simple practice. There I was, sitting in my favorite meditation space, unable to stop thinking about what cleaning task to tackle next. Of course, thoughts always bounce around in one’s head during quiet prayer time. The practice is not about keeping all thoughts out but in acknowledging them and letting them go. That morning each thought came with an irresistible hook, and before I knew it, five or ten minutes filled with imagined schedules and jobs had passed.

No surprise, then, that Advent arrived with no room on my table for an Advent wreath. “Surely,” I thought, “if I work hard enough, the table will be clean by day’s end.” Not so much. My choice: wait for another day, or two, or three, until the table was straightened up and ready or push enough stuff around to place the wreath in the center.

So, when evening arrived, there it sat, in the middle of the mess

As I watched the first of four candles flickering in the handblown glass, the appropriateness of the setting suddenly became apparent. If Advent is a season of waiting and watching, it is of waiting, watching in the middle of a mess. Isn’t that where I encounter the Holy One anyway. From right where I am?

I can imagine myself organized. (Well, that is a stretch!) “Doing” the social action stuff that calls out for people to be involved. Writing all the letters. Making all the calls. Someday I’ll be on track, reading the books on my list of important reads. I’ll paint more. Write more. Eat healthier. Never miss a day of exercise. I can imagine… But really? Maybe one at a time. But all at once? Not likely.

If I had to wait until everything was just right, from my house (spiritual and physical) to the world order, I’d never be open to the Sacred. I’d miss out on the transformative encounters that offer themselves every day, every place, every minute. Isn’t that the meaning of the Incarnation? The Holy One meeting us right where we are?

Persistent Love trusts that eventually, there will be moments when I’m particularly receptive to the gift of Divine Self always being given. Even when I’m not aware, Grace seeps through cracks in the shell of busyness, fear, and doubt that often encase my heart. The Holy One finds a way to be with, as promised … always.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: Advent, encounter, Gift, Holy One, Incarnation, love, Openness, Waiting

April 20, 2021 By Mary van Balen 4 Comments

Greening Nature and Spirits

One spring morning, sitting at the table sipping tea, I saw green buds on tree branches hanging over the yard just outside the picture window. The small fists of summer, clenched tight, must have been there for a while, but I hadn’t noticed. Seemingly overnight, the greening buds had swelled and stretched up and out, ready to burst open.

“Tomorrow,” I thought, “maybe the branches will be covered with tiny, new leaves. Or do the green cases hold flowers?” After more than seventy springs, I’m embarrassed to admit, I didn’t know, not having watched trees closely enough. Either way, nature, frozen in place by winter’s cold and long darkness, was moving again in the warmth of spring sun. What other explanation is there for the sudden appearance of green buds?

Perhaps this one: There is no “sudden” in nature. As the Latin phrase goes, natura naturans —”nature naturing,” or to put it another way, nature doing what nature does. Buds don’t pop into existence overnight. They begin forming in the summer or early autumn when temperatures are still warm. Focused on trees’ lush green crowns or their glorious fall colors, we just don’t notice buds, but they are there. By the time we see them in winter, the buds are cloaked with heavy scales or fuzzy cases drawn tightly around them, like your warm woolen coat, pulled close to keep out the cold. And they wait.

So, what was my maple doing all winter? “When cold weather hits, sap descends into roots, and when warm weather arrives, sap rises and feeds the tree,” I thought. Right?

True for most trees, but not for maples. These trees actually suck up the sap when temperatures drop, drawing liquid from the roots, and storing it in branches. A slow freeze with cold nights and warmer days sends sap up and down, up and down, storing more in the sapwood and preparing for a bountiful sap run. When winter hits in earnest, sap waits, frozen, before descending in spring and flowing out of holes if the tree has been tapped. (How this happens and why trees react differently to freeze and thaw is too complicated to explain here. Besides, I wouldn’t do a good job of it. But it’s fascinating and worth an internet search if you’re interested.)

In addition to affecting sap flow, cold winter temperatures send trees into a dormancy period allowing them to survive the harsh season and “wake up” in spring with the energy needed to blossom, resist pests, and develop fruit. When temperatures fluctuate too much from cold to warm during winter, tree buds may open prematurely; the tree may not be able to re-enter dormancy and might not have energy needed for growth.

Dormancy is important. For trees. For us.

The Word is living, being, spirit, all verdant greening, all creativity. This Word manifests itself in every creature.
Hildegard von Bingen

Sometimes our spirits need to rest. We can’t always be pushing forward, reading more books, attending more workshops, thinking, thinking, thinking. Greedily pulling in information like sap, to feed our hungry souls. Sometimes, what we need is rest. Holding what we already have in quiet. Openness – with no expectations.

Growth is a long process, so slow it often goes unnoticed, in trees and in our souls. Maple buds start forming sometime in the summer but need winter stillness before opening the following year. When warmth tells them it’s safe, they do what they are made to do: They break open. Leaves unfurl to feed the tree and flowers bloom and mature, producing fruit and seeds.

For us, the slow process is growing into who God made us to be. Saint Hildegard of Bingen (1098 – 1179) often used the word viriditas in her writings. It has been translated variously including “vitality,” “growth,” or “freshness.” She used it when writing about plants, healing, and also theologically as a metaphor for the Divine life of Christ that flows through all creation, including us, bringing healing and fruition. Viriditas knows no season; it’s a constant Presence within us. Whether in the quiet of winter or the exuberance of spring, God’s life is at work in our deepest center.

Hasn’t my soul known the same miracle as the buds? Suddenly feeling full of grace after a long winter? Hasn’t yours?

Further reading on St. Hildegard of Bingen, Doctor of the Church

Medieval depiction of a spherical earth with different seasons at the same time (illuminated manuscript of Hildegard of Bingen's book "Liber Divinorum Operum"). — Medieval depiction of a spherical earth with different seasons at the same time (illuminated manuscript of Hildegard of Bingen’s book “Liber Divinorum Operum”).
Public Domain Wikimedia Commons

The Life and Works of Hildegard von Bingen (1098-1179) Fordham University

St. Hildegard gives us a recipe for joy—even during a pandemic by Sonja Livingston in America

Hildegard of Bingen: no ordinary saint by Robdet McClory in the National Catholic Reporter

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: centered, growth, maple trees, natura naturans, Presence, quiet, Saint Hildegard of Bingen, sap run, spring, viriditas, Waiting, winter

December 15, 2013 By Mary van Balen Leave a Comment

We Wait Because We Hope

Advent Wreath: PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Originally published in the Catholic Times, Dec. 15, 2013 vol. 63:11

Advent is a time of waiting: Waiting for Christmas and waiting for God to gather us all to into the new life of resurrection.

The past few months have given me a new perspective on waiting. I had full knee replacement surgery and have spent time waiting for healing and for pain to fade. It has. Waiting for the knee to move without stiffness and effort. That’s coming, bit at a time. I was prepared for the work required to help move through the physical challenges even if it some times seem slow. This is active waiting, not sitting around until all was well, but doing the hard work of therapy, incorporating new exercises and routines into life. I expected that once on the mend, the trajectory would move consistently in one direction: Better. The reality has been more like a roller coaster ride, with ups and downs with plateaus thrown in now and again.

What I was not prepared for was the mental and spiritual challenges that came with the experience. Fighting depression and discouragement has been as important as doing heel slides. Someone told me that the drugs used during surgery and later to keep pain at bay contribute to the mental stress. Moving through this part of healing requires as much work as keeping the knee limber.

As I move through this personal time of waiting, I find myself pondering the meaning of waiting in general. Why do we continue to wait when outcomes are not what we expect? What do we wait for when reality of day-to-day life is difficult or, as it is for many people on this earth, overwhelming?

We wait because we have hope. There’s no sense in waiting without it. We hope because we have memories of something good. Of someone trustworthy who kept a promise. You can’t hope for something unless you trust you are going to get it. Those people who first enable us to trust may well be our mother and father. If that’s not the case, they could be a brother or sister, a teacher or a friend.

I wondered about young Mary who accepted God’s invitation to become the mother of God. Mary, who waited for nine months as her child grew within her womb and who trusted in the promise spoken by the angel: He will be great. He will be given the throne of David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever. He will be called holy, the Son of God.

She knew the prophecies. What was she expecting? How did she imagine the promises would be accomplished? She worried when he stayed behind in Jerusalem to sit and talk with the teachers in the temple. Was she surprised when he became an itinerant preacher or when he raised the ire of powerful religious and political leaders?

As his life unfolded, hers did too. She listened and watched, prayed and pondered. Not knowing how it would all turn out, she went on living and trusting that God is faithful, even as she stood at the foot of the cross. Her people had endured much suffering. They had a lot of practice waiting.

One of the Hebrew words we translate as “wait” has as its root a word meaning, “to bind together,” as in twisting. You twist everything good in your life together, making a chord out of all the strands you can gather. And you hold on.

Mary held on. She gathered strands not only from her life, but also from generations of those who had gone before. The Hebrews suffered in Egypt and the desert, but they arrived at the Promised Land. With the Psalmist, she could say, “I waited patiently for the Lord; he inclined to me and heard my cry.”(40) or “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope…O Israel, hope in the Lord! For with the Lord there is steadfast love, and with him is plenteous redemption.” (130)

I’m glad Mary and her people are part of my story. As a Christian, I add their strands to those gathered from my own life. I draw strands from my family’s stories and faith. Together our chord is strong. As we work to do our part in bringing Christ into this world, we also wait. We are able to wait because, in the end, we are one family and we hope for one thing: The fulfillment of God’s promise of Love and Life.

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: Advent, hope, Waiting