So I had a blog post already planned out in my mind (sorta) that I was going to write about for today... I had a doctor's appointment today concerning my diabetes. The plan was to write about how great the appointment went, that my blood sugar levels are better, how thankful I am to God for it all, and basically how my little life is practically care-free and happy right now.

I know. Who wants to listen to some girl's diabetic problems?

I don't know. And I don't blame you if you close your browser tab. But something about sharing my little struggles helps me.

I write these words partly to let out steam to keep me sane, and partly because it gives me perspective. It takes me from gazing at my problems while glancing at Christ, to gazing at Christ while only glancing at my problems.

Problems...

They are inevitable. I know those whose eyes are reading these words (thank you, by the way) are dealing with some sort of something that they wish they weren't.

I'm right there with ya.

And I'm totally frustrated.

My appointment today was discouraging. My blood sugars improved by only a tenth of a point. My A1C was 9.2 when the ideal number is 7 or less. I had really thought I had much better numbers since last time, and was expecting something much prettier than a 9.2...

Bummer.

I have had such a wonderful relationship with my doctor. She has been so supportive and informative to me since day 1 of my diagnosis. Honestly, she has given me and I'm sure many others, excellent medical and emotional care. She was my friendly face after the haul to Winston-Salem. She's actually the primary reason I've continued to drive to Winston every three months; yeah, she's that good. 

She turns her back to me today in the examination room while making her way to her roller chair, "So I have some bad news..."

Uh-oh. I have kidney damage. Bad circulation. A heart risk....

"I lost my job."

No...

Baptist health, along with other hospitals and medical centers have started making drastic budget cuts, which means my friendly face, and others like her, no longer have their jobs.

"You're going to have to find another endocrinologist. I'm sorry."

Me too...

* * * *

A bad blood test.
An unstable job market.
Health problems.
Small Finances.
Relationship issues.
The list goes on...
Discouragement is everywhere and it is easy to spot, and hard to stop noticing.

"Though the fig tree should not blossom,
nor fruit be on the vines,
the produce of the olive fail
and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold
and there be no herd in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord;
I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
God, the Lord, is my strength;
he makes my feet like the deer's;
he makes me tread on my high places."
- Habakkuk 3:17-19

This. This Scripture came to me today.

I am reminded that God and His promises are enough...

* * * *

Counting His graces-
because all is grace
Giving thanks in remembrance of Him-
because that is communion
Unwrapping His daily gifts-
because I am loved.

212. Photo shoot with my sister
213. Giant Pillows
214. A Starbucks coffee that only has 5 carbs- Yum!
215. He who has promised is faithful
216. The right Scripture at the right time
217. God is my strength
218. A cute planner for classes
219. The gift of faith

A lake, leaning... and learning

I woke up yesterday morning feeling dead tired. I had been feeling tired all week. Sugars had not been very sweet to me the past several days. I go through these spells of high and low sugars, and none in the happy middle...

If you are unfamiliar with the effects of bad blood sugars, here's a quick run down: Rest isn't restful, normal every day activities are straining, moods are sour, thirst is unquenchable, and the outlook on life is depressing. 

I mean, where's the joy in waking up every single day to being sick, and not knowing what will set your sugars out of control...

It's hard really.

Life's hard really...

So my morning blood sugar yesterday was 270. Yuck. When we all loaded the car to bound for the lake I was NOT awake. I didn't feel like spending the entire day out in the hot sun, out on the water, nervous that my sugar might drop fast with all the energy I'm burning. 

What was supposed to be a fun day was already spiraling down and morphing into a difficult obligation.

I tell mom at the gas station that I didn't feel good. She reassures me that I can take it easy for the day...

That's the thing. I don't want to take it easy; I don't want to feel like I have to pace myself. I'm 19 years young, and should be able to do anything I want to. I don't want to feel held back.

But all of us, really, are held back by something. Fears, ourselves, other people, illness, deaths, difficult childhoods, small finances...

Why is it, that we always think of the things that potentially tie us down, but forget to think of all the many things that push us forward...? 

Where is our faith?

We get back in the car to begin our haul down I-85. I decide to check my sugar...

It reads 118.

118!!

I couldn't contain my happiness. MY SUGAR IS 118!

I tell my sister I'm so happy I could cry. I wasn't joking.

Thank you Lord for good blood sugars, and thank you Lord for the bad sugars that make me thankful for the good ones, and remind me how fragile this life is, and that I'm not the one in control...

We drive across the long bridge, water stretching to the left and right and underneath us. Lake Norman is a sight.

The first dip in the water felt so warm, like a bath tub. We were only at the dock at the lake house. I was ready to go out there. Go way out on the water.

Our friend Harry trails down the Sea Doo's. I had never driven/ridden one before...

We spent hours on them! Bouncing on the waves and the water, zooming like a bullet but without a target. Too much fun...

The rain made us come inside for a while. I thought our day here was pretty much over...not yet. We sat in chairs in the screened in porch and chatted, raindrops falling all around.

After stories and pictures shared, the rain stopped. 

Harry walks to the garage.

Skis.

Water skis. 

He tells Ciera she was going to water ski. She invites me and mom to come along. Sure. I was feeling tired and was planning on just watching Ciera ski on the water. I knew nothing about that kind of sport...

We take off from the dock... She's up!!

She's skiing! I snap pictures, take a video, cheer. Smiles all around. 

Her balance gives out and she goes down. She reattaches her ski's, grabs the rope handle, and we're off again and she's gliding on water, probably not aware of just how cool she looks right now. She learned how to water ski last summer, on the same water.

"Do you want to try Briana?" she asks me as she's spitting out the lake water from her mouth and nose

"YES!" I wanted to. I wanted to at least try. 

I jump in the lake. The life jacket pulls me straight up. She hands me the skis. We adjust them just right. I'm really nervous. Ciera climbs back in the boat. I grab the rope. Hold my position as best I can.

The engine cranks, the water circulates, the rope tugs... 

I'm pulled, jerked hard, and my body drags straight forward into the water. My nose burns and stings.

I tried.

Try again they tell me from the boat. Okay. 

"It's like a recliner, you have to lean into it." Mama tells me while she demonstrates. "Let the boat pull you up. The boat does all the work, you just ride."

Lean into something that's going against me? 

I hear the voice of a dear friend and mentor from a conversation that happened only last week.

You have to lean in and embrace your conflicts. She tells the story of her daughter as a toddler who felt the winter wind blowing against her face. Instead of covering her bare skin, she leaned her head out to feel more. The biting cold all against her, and she opens herself to it.

Why do we fight conflict. We shelter ourselves from pain to preserve our lives so that we might have more life, but really we shut ourselves out from life altogether. 

Is there life in suffering?

Is there life in pain?

Is there life in what we do not know and have no control over?

Actually, life is only found in these places... 

We must be brought low before we can really revel in the goodness of God...

The truth is we all deserve hell.

God gave Christ His only Son as a ransom.

Our ransom. My ransom. Your ransom.

Because of Christ we can have Heaven.

Then this all means, anything above hell is a blessing.

We aren't even aware of how blessed we are!

God gives conflicts and struggles purposefully. And we can thank Him for it.

. . .

Can I thank Him for diabetes?

Can I say that with an honest heart?

Can I lean into Him and let Him pull me up...

God, thank you for saving me. I've done nothing to earn your grace and mercy... 

You know the burdens of my heart.

You know I don't love being sick.

God, I want to thank you for my illness. Yes, I want to thank you. If I lived an easy life I wouldn't need you, I wouldn't want you. Thank you for making me weak, because it lets me see just how strong you are. I get to walk a road that is hard, is work, is painful... but it takes me to You. Thank you...

They say suffering lets you know God in such a way that nothing else can.

If that's the case, then I want a life like nothing else.

My skis are back on, my grip is tight around the handle, knees bent. I see Harry look back at me to see if I am ready to try again. I nod. He takes off.

The water sprays hard on my body, pushing me back. I hold on. I lean back, just like I were in a recliner. I let the boat pull me...

And I'm up!

My second try at water skiing, and I am up on my ski's, gliding across the water!

And I am so surprised I don't realize I'm up on the water until I see everyone on the boat cheering for me...

Yesterday contained surprises and joys. Every day does really. We just have to realize what they are...

I am resolving to take all my pains, struggles, opposition... and lean into them. Even thank God for them. Can you too?

Let Him be your strength and lift you up. He never lets go.

Kalos Hamartolos- Beautiful Sinners

I am not one to pay a lot of attention to beauty...

I am too busy focusing on what's ugly. What needs improvement. What isn't right (according to MY standards...) I have a perfectionist type of personality. Always striving to do my very best, because if I don't that's a reflection on me that I just might be lazy and inadequate. Really Briana? You're a human being...

And unfortunately, this appreciation for perfection flows over into my relationships. I can be so HARSH. So condescending... 

I'm not looking at the beauty, because beauty really is everywhere. I am choosing to look at what could be better, instead of loving it for what it is.

Ahh... I have it all wrong...

The other night my sister and I were hanging out at Cook Out, talking about ways we are different. Jokingly I said, "Well, you have long hair." To which she replied, "And I like Mountain Dew." Yes, we are different in those ways, but there's something else... I told Ciera, "You are a really good friend. You are nice to people that some people don't like. You're so patient. I'm not like that." 

God gave her that gift; to be very tolerant of people. I know He'll use it. (See what she has to say here) www.divinelyromanced1414.blogspot.com

I have a low tolerance for people. My patience has been tried and burned in my short 19 years of life. I live with type 1 diabetes, and will for the rest of my life, unless a cure is miraculously found. I was diagnosed when I was 15, an impressionable age. I have dealt with depression, pity, loneliness, and jealousy more than I ever had before I got sick. (Hello depravity!) 

In my experience in having a chronic illness, one that requires an immense amount of discipline and perseverance, I've noticed that I don't handle complainers very well. I hear perfectly healthy people complain and whine about things that I consider breezy problems... and as I am listening, my mind is burning with the desire that they would just be quiet, because they don't have to deal with being sick every. single. day...

As they are complaining, I am complaining about them complaining. Doing the very action that reels me.

Sigh...

I need some grace.

I titled this blog Kalos Hamartolos which is Greek for Beautiful Sinners. Yes, I put two very opposing words together. But we are ALL sinners. All of us. People can be so ugly and mean. So hard to love. We are all like that though, in our own ways and magnitudes. I have found though, that they only thing that makes a sinner beautiful is Christ. 

Yes, I am bringing up Christianity.

Can I be completely honest here? I have been struggling with the Christian life. I find many "Christians" are not beautiful people. They are quick to judge, they harbor bitterness, they poisonously gossip, and act like they have it all, but look like they are missing something. They are mean and nasty, and can cause pointless drama...

Is that Christianity?

No, actually, that's me...

And all sinners alike.

"To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you." - C.S. Lewis

Ahh... there's the crux of the matter...

 

Forgive, and not dwell on the ugly. Christ gives beauty. It's there for us to love and enjoy and thank Him for! We just have to choose to see it...

This is my challenge. To love and give thanks for the hamartolos world. 

I have read and am currently doing a small group Bible study on Ann Voskamp's book "1000 Gifts" 

 http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_c_0_7/186-5683742-7563568?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=1000%20gifts&sprefix=1000+gi%2Caps%2C295 (Check it out on amazon here!) 

It came to my hands at just the right time, and is worth every penny I spent for it. 

It has challenged me to keep a gratitude journal; a daily listing of what I am thankful for, naming the gifts God freely gives me. The goal is to reach 1000 gifts. At first I wasn't serious about it; but it has made God more alive to me than ever. 

Think about buying it.

I'm so glad I did.  

Ralph

It's a rainy Sunday. I just got back from a Mc Donalds coffee run since our coffee maker kicked the bucket. Seriously, I can't go without coffee. Instead of buying a new coffee maker, Dad's been resourceful in making coffee the "boyscout way." Getting coffee grounds, then boiling water... (I take Mc Donalds coffee over it any day!) But that's dad. Always doing things differently. It's in his blood. He got it from Ralph; his dad, my grandpa. Ralph Roberts. A World War II veteran, electrical engineer, father of four kids, husband to one wife, and the most logical to a fault man I've ever known.

I remember visiting him in the hospital when I was thirteen years old. He asked me, "Why do you let your hair fall in your face?" (Speaking about my bangs that would fall in front of my eyes) I remember laughing a little and saying "I don't know." It didn't make sense to him, and if grandpa would have grown his hair out, I know for a fact he wouldn't of gotten bangs, even though that was trendy, it served no purpose. His choices, no matter how strange, were always intentional. My dad told me when they grew up Grandpa bought a checkered cab car for the family. It was a good price, it met a need, and that's all that mattered. Trendiness or caring about what others might think were two concepts my grandfather never troubled himself with. I see it in my dad too. Not only in dad, but in my older brother Zack as well.

The Roberts men can be simply understood as.... well wait, no, I don't think they can be simply understood! That's what you got to appreciate about them. The emotional spectrum of these men are very narrow. They are men after all, but there's is especially narrow. Logic is key to them. I remember when Zack was 12 or 13 he managed to build his own desktop computer, through the bestowing of computer parts by my grandpa Ralph. Conversing with these guys is pretty black and white. What makes sense to them is what they do or say, and what doesn't they will vigorously persuade you otherwise or won't even trouble themselves with it.

One of my favorite stories of Grandpa is when my dad, the eye doctor, just gave him new glasses. Grandpa was going to stay at our house for the night, and though he was a World War II veteran, I don't think anything could have really prepared him for this. Growing up we called our house a funny farm because we had all sorts of animals. Chickens, cats, peacocks, horses, guinea pigs, hamsters, fish, pigs...etc. Our chickens would roost on our porch railings. When Grandpa walked down our sidewalk he approached the dozen chickens roosting on the porch, with fresh droppings everywhere. Grandpa just stood still. Looked around. And shook his head. When we got inside he sat at one of our tables. Not by himself, for there were several cats running and walking around keeping him company. Grandpa in his solid and satirist fashion calmly spoke up and said, "I believe there is something wrong with these new glasses. They make me see cats everywhere."

That was grandpa.

He was a bird. I can't say the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. We all have our ancestor's blood. We miss you grandpa. Rest easy.