Teetering

In the past few years I have felt secure in the fact that I had discovered the secret of life- balance.  Life is a series of ups and downs, you take the good with the bad.  I view life as a scale- save and spend, add to one side and take from the other, try to maintain the balance.  For the most part this metaphor has guided me in decisions and through trials.  

Today my heart is heavy and I am not seeing a scale but a see saw and I'm teetering somewhere near the middle seeking balance.  A mother sent her 18 year old son to the movies and he was killed.  There he is in his baseball uniform swinging for the fence on the t.v. screen and my heart aches.  My daughter climbed into a vehicle full of her rugby family to say what is most likely a goodbye to a dear friend who is a mere 21 years old. Her mother is keeping vigil praying for a miracle.  My heart aches.  Things are hitting too close to home. 

How do you find balance?  How do you ache for a mother who lost her son and celebrate the blessing that you can call yours after a good game and laugh with him?  How do you shed tears for a mother losing her daughter while celebrating the blessing that yours stopped by for a hug this morning?  How can you be sad and happy at the same time?  How do you watch people die from cancer and know that pain and fear and continue to celebrate that your spouse is cheating death?  

I still believe that life is about balance.  I still cling to hope and faith and know there is a reason for every season and it is not mine to question.  I also find myself thankful, as strangely as that sounds, for these painful reminders of the absolute precious gift of having time with those we love.   I am thankful that today I cry in pain for mothers who have lost children and tomorrow I will celebrate with one of my favorite mothers in the marriage of her beautiful child.  I am truly happy that both sides of the scale can be filled.

But, today I shed some tears and ache and teeter.

My Own Private Metaphor

The boy struggled.  There was a lot of pressure.  Some didn't believe in him- at times he didn't believe in himself.  So much he wanted, so much he wanted to prove,  so many disappointments and near misses.  Heartbreak breeds character and his grew.  His parents heard what a great kid he is and how proud they should be of him.  And they were.  But, they, too, dreamed of his break out moment- of that defining moment when he owned what he was capable of and got to taste just a little bit of victory over fear and anxiety and frustration.  

His coach grew tired of the "Put me in" and did just that.  He took the mound and his mother sat in the car and watched him play on the radio, feeling every pitch.  Her confidence in him never wavered but her heart couldn't watch.  Baseball is such an up and down game.  One day you're on top, one day you're striking out.  To an outsider lacking true passion for the game it can feel very cruel.  

His father watched from the fence also feeling every pitch and smiling, knowing the boy was doing well.  

It wasn't until the top of the last inning that his father realized the boy was throwing a no hitter.  The boy himself hadn't realized it- just remained focused on getting that win.  As the last pitch was thrown, the last out made, the announcer congratulated the boy and it hit him.  His father ran to him and both were overcome with emotion.  They embraced.

To the outsider this was simply that; an embrace, a congratulations, a celebration of the boy's first no hitter.

To me it was a metaphor.  It was one I will cherish.  The boy running to his father, the father running to the boy-  both realizing that the boy had thrown his first no hitter-

both realizing that the father was there to see it...