The Balcony of Heaven

I have a large family, so I often employ ‘to-do’ lists to stay focused and accomplish important tasks. A few weeks ago, I spent Sunday evening writing a to-do list for Monday. The top thing on my list was to get my newly minted teen son to the doctor. We are a homeschooling family, so my son is with me for the majority of his day. Because of this, I am privy to variations in his habits. I’d noticed an uptick in his hunger – which I at first wrote off to puberty – but he began losing weight and drinking an excessive amount of water. I suspected diabetes, but I truly hoped I was wrong in my Dr. Mom assessment.

The doctor saw my son and when I explained his endless drinking of water, she seemed a bit skeptical. She said that teens today were prone to, “Tik Tok water challenges with those fancy new mugs.” (Tik Tok is a social media site, and the ‘fancy mug’ is a Stanley Tumbler.) I assured her that my son didn’t have a cell phone yet, nor Tik Tok, nor public school peers to impress with his ‘mad water drinking skills.’

Thankfully the doctor ordered the requisite testing. Monday evening, she called me with an urgency to her tone that had been missing in the afternoon. My son was now diagnosed as a Type 1/ insulin dependent diabetic, with glucose numbers that needed management by the next morning. I am thankful to God that my son was seen the same day as I called, and that even though the doctor doubted me at first, she ran the tests.

Tuesday morning the phone rang bright and early and my husband, son and I were quickly ushered in for four rather grueling hours of ‘diabetes education.’

I was scheduled the same morning to receive much needed intravenous iron. When my iron is low, I am very tired and irritable and it makes processing new information or being nice to people extremely challenging.

Here’s one of my text messages from that day…. slightly filtered…

“In the past two hours, he’s given himself long acting and short acting insulin. With the amount of math the diabetes educator threw at us, I want to kill myself. Legit overwhelmed. And husband’s not understanding my struggle because he’s a math minded person. I told him I’m overwhelmed and he said, “This is simple.” I asked him, “Would it be simple for YOU if it was in Spanish or Italian?” He doesn’t seems to comprehend that MATH is a *%$#$ foreign language for me. The diabetes educator uses a sing song voice, the kind you use to speak to kindergartners, which makes me want to grab her by her hair and slam her head repeatedly on the desk. ( Yes, I really need iron.) “We take the glucose numbers, subtract the goal, divide by a unicorn’s birthday, times Pi, calculate the Pythagorean theorem, and then….voila! Do we need to round up or down?” My brain is a dumpster fire after 2 hours of that.”

Thankfully I was allowed to bow out of the education session after two hours and go to another floor and get an iron infusion. I know what a monster I come across as when my numbers are low. I know that God was probably making a huge frowny face knowing that inner me was cussing out my husband and cheerfully imagining doing harm to a perfectly nice person who was just trying to help my son.

Two weeks later, I have a little bit more of a solid footing on the insulin math ( and a normal amount of iron) and it feels less scary and overwhelming. However, I still don’t like it. Not one bit. I’d be a liar if I said I’ve handled this with grace and dignity. I haven’t. I’ve cried and whined more than I want to admit. Type 1 diabetes is a constant game of mealtime math. Math was my least favorite subject in school and unlike a fine wine, math has not improved with age for me.

Thankfully, I recently received a very important reminder. “God never leans over the balcony of heaven and gasps in surprise.” In other words, God saw all this coming, even though I didn’t.

God knew I would suck at math, so He gave me a husband who is not only excellent at it, but is also a diabetic. So now father and son are, “Diabuddies.” God knew that I would need a husband whose strength is my weakness, to balance one another out. As it turns out – my husband was right, the math is simple. I was just too miserable to figure it out that day. God knew I would have iron issues and can’t stay up late to check on my son at 2 a.m. like the diabetes team said to. So God gave me a son who is a night owl, who faithfully checks in on his little brother at 2 and often 3 a.m. just to make extra sure he’s ok. God knew I would be overwhelmed by my feelings, so he gave me a dear friend whose nephew was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes eight years ago. That young man’s mom has been invaluable in helping me process my feelings. God knew my son would need a mentor – so that same diabetic young man would ‘happen’ to play pick up league soccer with my son. God knew I’d be so sad about my son’s diagnosis, so he gave me friends who fed me chicken soup while reminding me it was ok to lament, like David did in the Bible.

So, the platitude that God only gives us what we can handle is completely inaccurate. God actually gives us what He can handle, and what others are commanded in Galatians chapter 6, verse 2, to help us handle.

 “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”

Remember, dear reader, you are to carry someone else’s burdens. God perfectly fashioned you to come alongside someone who needs you to carry their load. You might be good at math, a night owl, an encourager, a diabetic, a listening ear. God can use someone like you.

I am peaceful knowing that God’s view from the balcony of heaven includes people He made, willing to use the gifts He gave them, to carry the burdens of others.

God is good, all the time.

4 comments