New Roads

Two weeks ago our grandson Ty was diagnosed with type 1 Diabetes as many of our family and friends know. And this weekend Jeff, Ty's dad, brought the kids to the grandparents to give Ty's mom a well-deserved weekend break. Frankly April deserved a break and the grandparents deserved a weekend with the grandkids, at least that is our story. This weekend brought changes to our typical routine when family comes in town. Every meal was planned, great attentiveness was placed on every activity we did, and the essence of life frankly took on an immediacy we tend to take for granted. Success for me came when I took Ty to the church FLC to play and after an hour and a half Ty checked his blood sugar (yes at the age of 5 he checked his own blood-sugar) and it was well-with the safe range.

As church ended this morning I was asked how Ty was doing and I responded "he is adjusting well." But, I also made a confession which I have thought about repeatedly over the past two weeks. I think at one point I even mentioned it to Carolon. In the past when I heard someone was diabetic I always felt sympathy for what they had to deal with, but really didn't appreciate the challenge. How could I? Now I see the blood sugar testing up close. Now I think about insulin shots and the necessity of eating within 15 minutes. Now afternoon and bed time snacks are more than the cravings of a spoiled appetite. Never have I felt a greater investment in finding a cure for diabetes. I feel guilty over the cavalier spirit of the past. And am in need of forgiveness from those who never knew my compassion failed to reach the feigned depths. And as I stand among your ranks I do so feeling unworthy, but nevertheless vociferously desirous of each every life receiving the freedom of a day when once again the pancreas independently performs the function of life.

All that being said, a word of thanks to Westhill friends who as we finished a meal at Chili's stopped by our table to tell Ty they had both been diagnosed with type 1 when they were children. Thanks friends! I know it made Ty feel good just to receive the attention, but speaking for the grandparents we needed to hear your story.

Let it Snow

What a scene! Flakes of snow competing for air space as the warm earth began to lose ground to accumulating snow. I suppose for those who live in areas of the country where snow is a seasonal obstacle observing such grace becomes so common as to be unimpressive. For those of us who experience it infrequently, we are almost spell bound by the phenomena. A new record for a day of snow they tell us, and now the snow fall becomes more than spellbinding to observers, it becomes a stat for the books.

I suppose a preacher is expected to come up with a great spiritual illustration for the snow fall, but all I have is appreciation for the change of pace to my life and the beauty of a snow fall I rarely see. In fact in the years we lived in Houston the only real coating of white occurred the first Christmas our grandson was born. Strange isn't it, now the snow fall takes on the life of memories of a little boy I love, and then there are the memories of childhood growing up along the Red River when mom and dad would listen to the weather to see if the coming moisture would be more in the form of snow, or halting ice. And how could we ever forget the icy, snowy December in eastern Oklahoma; when I walked to a neighbor's house and borrowed a four wheel drive truck so we could make our way to the hospital, across the Arkansas River, in advance of our little girl's arrival. Spending all night anticipating labor seemed a better option than in-transit delivery. And then there was the January our son was born in the midst of a snow fall.

I sit and watch the grace of a snow flake fall and remember the grace of memories lived.