on faith

Some days it hits me: my diabetes will never be easier than it is right now.

That's a scary thought. But the truth is, I'm still on a honeymoon. I only inject twice a day. I don't know what it's like to wake up in the middle of the night ridiculously low, and I don't have a pump attached to me at all times. Heck, only 4% of the diabetes problems tumblr applies to me.

It's like I'm not even a "real" diabetic yet.

But I will be one day.

Our church started a new Sunday school class this winter for young adults. One of the get-to-know-you exercises was what our pastor/fearless leader referred to as "Quaker questions". <--great, now I want some oatmeal. They started off pretty basic, and then got a little deeper. One question was "when did you start seeing God at work in your daily life?"

Der. I mean, I grew up in church and have always taken God's presence for granted. I know He's always there; like the wind and yada yada. But when did I truly see Him?

The day I had antibody testing drawn to confirm that I was, in fact, a closet type 1 diabetic.

Until that day, I "believed" in God, I "trusted" God, I "had faith" in God. But I was always in control. Type A personality up in here. Planner. God was the back-up dancer. The Joey Fatone to my Justin Timberlake.

On that day, I walked into the draw station, waited for my name to be called to the chair, and started to pray about what .I. wanted.

You know, the kind of prayer where you say, "God, this is/isn't what I want, please make this happen/not happen and PS thanks in advance and I'll read my Bible every day and not cuss and stop watching Honey Boo Boo marathons".

Except those words didn't come.

Instead, His truth became so painfully, so gloriously clear:

He holds me in His hands. I am His. He created me, and He had already decided the answers that I sought. He had known for my whole 25 years what the results of those tests would be.

He knew that I would be diabetic. And in that moment of recognition, I knew I would be diabetic.

So I had my blood drawn and returned to work. And for the first time I could remember, I prayed for real, honest, unhesitating acceptance of His plan. For the understanding that His will, not mine, would be done.

When I finally saw the results (is it a HIPAA violation to check your own labs?), my prayer didn't change.

When my endo called with the news, my prayer didn't change.

When I obsess about the future, when I fear the unknown, when I feel like my pancreas is a ticking timebomb, my prayer doesn't change.

"Thy will be done". It's the hardest thing I've ever had to say, and yet the most liberating.

It's not a punishment. It's not even so much a challenge. It's an opportunity to acknowledge that God is with me in every situation. I will never be alone with diabetes, with Graves disease, with a crappy day at work or a crappy day at life.

So no, my diabetes will never be easier than it is right now. But it will never be in charge of me, either.

He will be.