Tuesday, October 21, 2014

NEW {day 21} :: the boo bag story

When we arrived home last night Lucy ran to the front porch to retrieve the package.  She had been waiting on it's contents for almost a week.  It wasn't a Halloween treat box from grandparents or something fun we ordered off of Amazon.  It was her new CGM - continuous glucose monitor.

A year ago we had no idea what a CGM was and we definitely wouldn't have seen Lucy bounding out of the car on flying feet to get her excited little hands on one.  A year ago we knew very little about Type 1 Diabetes.  Today we are close to being experts.

Each day we monitor Lucy's blood sugar closely because her pancreas doesn't behave the way a pancreas should.  Sometimes it's a guessing game to determine exactly how much insulin she needs to bring her glucose levels down or how much carb intake is required to bring them up.  Over this next month we are moving towards two new things that will help us to better manage her diabetes and hopefully give her a little bit of her freedom back.  The first of those things is the CGM.  I won't bore you with the details but I'm sure those who are interested can run a successful Google search to satisfy their curiosity.

Here's what I do want you to know about the CGM.
It is comprised of a small sensor that is inserted into her skin and a remote monitor that looks a bit like an iPod {and happens to be bright pink}.  Lucy thought all of that was very cool.  She also believed me when I said that it would help - that it would improve her situation.
I, too, thought it was pretty cool and believed in it's ability to better her life and ours.  But I carried another emotion about this CGM - fear.  

Last night I allowed Lucy to open the boxes and explore it's contents but as soon as I saw the inch thick instruction manual I knew that trying it out would have to wait until the next day.  I tucked the kids into bed and went to work watching tutorials, reading warnings, and increasing my anxiety to an uncomfortable level.  I didn't sleep well last night.  It was fear.

Maybe this visual will help you understand my apprehension.
This is some big plastic crazy looking contraption that you have to stick onto her body with adhesive and use to inject the sensor.  There's this thing about listening for two clicks and then making sure the tab is flush against the skin and pinching just the right place at just the right time and I suddenly felt like this new thing that was going to help us might actually give me a heart attack.

I finally went to bed and endured my sleepless night.  This morning I walked downstairs to face my fears and give this new thing a shot {literally}.  With a confident smile to hide my insecurities I followed all those little steps to get that CGM up and running. 

During the process Lucy began to whimper and it seemed my fear had been realized.  I had probably done it all wrong.  Oh no, is that blood I see...and now I can't get the big plastic thing off!  I kept smiling and joking and acting like it was all fine but I wanted to cry too and take the needle out and never try it again.  I was instantly taken back to the days when we first began Lucy's insulin shots and she would scream and cry and so would I.  But I kept moving, kept trying, kept consoling her with words I needed myself to hear.  

Finally I got it all working but she was still teary and kept telling me it hurt, didn't feel right, she couldn't do it, wanted it off.  At that moment Joey walked to our front door to open it and install this weird cable exercise system thing that he does.  And there, in the most unlikely of places was mercy...in a Halloween bag.  

We had been boo-ed!  I heard Joey calling them.
     Hey guys - there's something out here for you!  
Little feet went running.
Enter the distraction.  
Enter the mercy.
Enter the arms wrapping around us and picking us up and patting us on our bums and telling us to 'run along now' because everything is fine.  

New, even when it is meant to bring long term benefit to us, can sometimes bring initial pain and fear and doubt.  And then God sends something to pull the 'new and improved', albeit tearful, us back up to our feet.  When we follow his instructions, we can trust his results.  

The next thing we know we are living life with this new thing.   It felt weird at first because it was different.  We weren't sure it was going to work - not sure if we could push through the discomfort and doubt to life on the other side.  Suddenly we realize that 'different' is actually better.  The benefits are revealed and the promise we believed in is realized.

My friend, Kate, had actually told me that she and her girls were going to 'boo' us last night.  {shhh...don't tell my kids it was them!}   In all the excitement over the new package, I forgot.  The doorbell never rang, so I assumed they forgot too.  And so my kids went to bed last night without any knowledge of what was sitting on the front porch waiting...for just the right moment.  

This morning Kate texted me and said that a crazy chain of events led them to almost leave the bag at the wrong house last night.  In all the confusion she didn't know if her girls even rang our doorbell before running off.
And in all of that I see God 
because where there is challenge and change, he is there.
Where there is fear and doubt, he is there.
Where there is pain with purpose, he is there,
preparing a plate of mercy to offer us this morning when we were faced with the hard part of new.

If new is taking you to painful places these days,  I hope that you will discover plates full of mercy offered up perhaps in the most unexpected ways.  The kind of new that Jesus promised will always be worth the fear, doubt, and discomfort we may face to take hold of it.  If we follow his instructions, even when they seem unfamiliar and beyond our abilities, we can trust him with the outcome.

Chances are, in matters of the soul, mercy during suffering may not come quite as quickly as it came for us this morning.
But it will come.
Keep checking your front porch.
for all the posts in this series click HERE