An emotional weekend. Friday night, our dear friend and fellow writer, Vickie Ferguson, passed away after a tough second battle with cancer. There was a lovely memorial service. She had many, many friends who were touched very deeply by her humor, warmth, and positive outlook and faith. We will miss her very much.

Just three hours after her death, my nephew was born, delivered by his dad because he came so fast, no one could get there in time. My sister, Cheryl, had planned this beautiful home birth. My other sister, Rebecca, and I had planned to be there like we were for the first one. My bag was already packed. When she called about the first contractions, we thought she had a few hours to go so I took my time gathering my last few items and getting my daughter ready to go, too. We stopped at my mom’s to pick up an exercise ball Cheryl could use during labor. When we arrived at the house, I walked in the front door and saw Cheryl sitting on the floor of the family room, cradling a newborn in her arms. It took my brain a few minutes to register what was going on. “Why is she holding Jason?” was my first thought. Jason is her son who is two years old! Then my mouth fell open and I dropped my stuff on the floor. “You had the baby?” I shouted, running toward her. It all happened so fast, none of us were there–not even the midwife. In fact, her husband James had gone to the store and Cheryl was afraid she’d be delivering the baby all by herself! But he got back and she talked him through it. Cheryl is a Woman with a capital W and James is The Man (aka “Delivery Boy”). She said she screamed and shouted with the pain but when it came time to deliver, she got her head together and she and James brought little Alex into the world. He is beautiful and perfect and we love him dearly.

I like to think Alex and Vickie touched fingers or gave high fives as they passed each other.