Every day is quite different right now as we learn how to manage George’s diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes. If you were to ask me how I’m doing on any given day, at any particular time, my answer would probably be different from hour to hour…maybe even minute to minute. But today I came up with a way to express how I’m feeling.

I’m sputtering. Think of an engine that has sat for a while without being started. You put the key in, turn it and hopefully ignite the engine and start driving. But if it has sat long enough without being ignited, the engine will sputter a bit before turning over.

Three weeks ago at this time we were at Children’s Hospital. Sweet George was in hysterics every time someone came to do a finger poke, or draw blood. Shane and I were in shock/survival mode. Our dear friends came to be with us and brought their two sons who Georgie absolutely loves. Thank God for them. (I was reminded of the importance of hospital visits!! They really really matter.) With every time Georgie cried, or screamed, or panicked and called out, “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy”, until I climbed into the bed with him and helped calm him, my heart slowed down and eventually over the course of the next 24 hours it kind of went numb.

I don’t remember a lot. I remember walking to the cafeteria after Georgie was settled in his room finally. I remember trying to eat a turkey sandwich and not being able to. I remember talking to my brother on the phone, and the shock hit my body and I was trembling violently, with my teeth chattering, as I told him everything. I remember trying to sleep in the Recliner-From-Hell beside Georgie’s bed, but with finger pokes and blood draws every hour, that was pretty impossible.

Hard to believe that was only 3 weeks ago. Because it feels like an eternity ago.

Back to the sputtering. I’ve allowed myself room to be numb. To give George the 5 shots a day that he needs I have had to disconnect my heart from my head in order to survive. When I hear him say, “I hate this life. I hate Type 1 Diabetes,” I have to switch to auto-pilot and hope my response is one that brings hope and healing instead of the anger I feel….no 5 year old boy should have to think those things, let alone say them.

Too bad that numbness and auto-pilot status only last for so long. I’ve got a Master Key Holder (The LORD) who is putting the key in my ignition and starting to turn it, whether I’m ready or not.

And I’m responding. But in spurts. Thus the sputtering. Each time the LORD turns the key, He speaks truth to my heart. I wish I could say that with the first time He turned the key I responded with faith and hit the ground running in this new race of Juvenile Diabetes with my beloved son…but that simply isn’t so. Rather, with each time He pumps the gas and turns the key again, He gets my attention and I sputter…but I don’t quite turn over. Not quite yet. But I will.

Here are some truths He is re-igniting in my heart right now:

  • He understands suffering. When Jesus was in the Garden of Gethsemane prior to his arrest, trial and crucifixion, He cried out to His Abba. His Daddy. And He said, “Nothing is impossible for You. Please, don’t make me walk this path.” (my paraphrase) He wrestled a bit. He pleaded a lot. He sweat drops of blood in His agony. And He finally came to the point of saying, “However, not My will but Yours be done.” It gives a WHOLE NEW perspective to Him being my sympathetic High Priest (Heb. 4:15).
  • Nothing will be purposeless. A woman at the Bible Study Fellowship (BSF) I’m a part of came to me today and said, “The LORD will put a strength in George that he wouldn’t have had otherwise.” Now this is a hard thing to hear. My gut reaction is, “Georgie could be strong through avenues other than Type 1 Diabetes.” But she is right. God turns horrifying things into gorgeous things. It’s His specialty. Isaiah 61 says that when we have ashes, God takes those ashes and turns them into something beautiful. Each time I remember this truth, my heart wakes up a little bit more again.
  • God gives good gifts. When George was born, I used to sing James 1:17 over him, “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above.” We were told we couldn’t have children. There was NO (zero, zip, zilch) life in our bodies to make having children possible. But God gives good gifts. God did NOT give diabetes to us. But He DID give us George. Our sweet, precious, miraculous son. A gift. Straight from our loving Heavenly Father. To us.

Tonight I’m hurting, but I’m thankful. Thankful for these truths that are beginning to turn my heart over. Thankful for some sputterings. I might not be running on all cylinders yet…but I will be. I will be.


2 thoughts on “Sputterings

  1. Dear sweet Melodi… our hearts and prayers are with you! What a beautiful expression of faith you have conveyed for all to read without denying the pain of the present moment. God will bring beauty, joy and praise again and He is going to see you through these tough days. We love you & all your family!
    Ben & Tammy


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