A most beautiful reason...

I sat in another hospital waiting room this week.
For the most beautiful reason.
Mrs. Shannon,  my brave and strong little sister, gave birth to her daughter.
Bethany Joy was in such a rush to begin the adventure that is living these days that she made her appearance in the moment Aunty Suz went for a coffee. Me and my caffeine vice.. (And can I just add that I was under the impression that we had hours of waiting stretched before us when I popped out for said coffee break?? Good one Bethy!) 

She was in a mad rush to be here.
She was wide eyed and perfect.
I fell instantly in love and I'm so thankful for the way my family operates- we belong to each other. My siblings love my boys like they belong to them. I love my nieces and nephew the same way. We belong to each other.

The birth-day of princess Bethany Joy was a reprieve and a reminder.
It was the ebb and flow of the days we are walking.
She is a sliver of heaven, suddenly at home with us.
A reminder of life and how beautiful it is.
A reprieve for her Aunty Suz. Just to sit in that moment and stare into brand new eyes.
What a joy she is.

As I was lost in the wonder of Bethany Joy,  my phone rang. Sheldon was still up north.  He had been picking up a trailer and visiting with his brother before he flew down to meet the newest addition. He had been on his way home from the farm when an accident happened in front of him.  He was right there. One of the first on the scene.
I heard everything I needed to know about how tragic the outcome of this horrific accident was in his voice.
Right there.
I was holding the 6pd 11oz precious reprieve, the perfect reminder of living and I heard it.
The painful, edging it's way back in.
My heart instantly and easily leaned back towards the heaviness it had tried to forget.
That frailty and fragility of life.
A young man. Gone.
Sheldon didn't know him. But on that cool June evening he fought for him. He fought with the same tenacity that he fights his own battle to live some more minutes and days.
He gathered a collection of strangers who had stopped at the site and they fought for that young man.

The ache that Sheldon felt in his arms and legs the next day stood testimony to the minutes and minutes that he tried to help him breath, this young stranger who died an untimely death.

Our hearts go out to the family and the friends of this young man.

A magnificent tension.
The truly beautiful.
The tragically horrendous.
Marching together.

I held my phone to my ear with one hand, Bethy was held close with the other. I listened to Sheldon talk about the accident and the moments after.

"Just get on a plane. Come and cuddle Bethany. She is everything perfect and beautiful." 

Try to push back the bad. 
Look for the reprieve from the sad.
Look for a reminder of the beautiful.

Sometimes I feel like I have a set of scales in front of me all day, everyday. And I shuffle our moments. Weighing the bad news,  the set backs, the prognosis of terminal..
And as the sad side dips down, piled high with these tough days,  I scramble to find the good. To find the laughs and the hope. To add to that other side.. To try to make the scales of our moments sway between the sad, the tough and the lovely, the beautiful.

That's the magnificent tension. The scales of our moments, weighed with the weight of cancer and all of its horrendous crap.. Balanced with the birth of a little slice of perfection. Balanced with our boys and the gift that they are. Balanced with the years we have had.. The life we have built.

Weighing the moments.

Sad.

Happy.

Terrible.

Beautiful.

It's the magnificent tension. I've talked about it before (previous blog titled 'The Magnificent tension') because it's the only way I can give words to express what we are walking and living.

The unthinkably sad, arm in arm with perfection. 

So...

I have a stunning new niece.

I FaceTime her mother and only want to see the newborn sleeping.

I demand photos of each outfit, each moment.

Perfection. 

And then...

We count our days. (He's sore.. His liver hurts tonight. He has a really bad cough. We count...)

We weigh our moments. 

Sometimes the scale tips towards the beautiful...sometimes towards the tragic. 

Still.. We go on. 

We just go on.