She knows too much.

I am feeling guilty. Kyndall and I were picking up some loose limbs this morning from the plant we trimmed a couple days ago, when she ran over to me with something and was so excited to give it to me. I really was expecting a flower since I seem to have a collection of lantana blossoms withering all around the house. But, it was a used blood-test strip. They honestly end up everywhere. Just ask Jon. I told her it was yucky and quickly threw it in the garbage. But I just got thinking.

It isn't yucky to her. She knows a lot about them. She understands that they are important to me and that they help me. This is the girl that often pretends to "put on a pump" when she plays dress-up and is getting ready in the morning. She knows that I need a snack when my blood is icky and will offer up anything she has. Even her treasured Goldfish crackers. She doesn't even ask for my pink juice box anymore. She will probably never faint at the sight of blood because she sees so much of mine when I poke myself. She gets super worried when her little toes get tangled in my pump tube when I am holding her on my hip . . . probably because she has heard me squeal about it too much. She knows many secrets of diabetes and she is only two.

That little used test strip---makes me a little sad, a little proud of her awareness, and a little more in love with her. If that was really possible since I was completely head over heels before.

Guess it struck me because I am feeling a little passionate about diabetes right now. The annual walk to raise money to find a cure is this month. My WHOLE family started walking just last year. I know, it took me a couple years (21 to be exact) for me to jump on the bandwagon. The kids even got into it and it was neat to hear them talk about it all! In fact, mine wondered why I still had diabetes after the walk. I think they thought the cure would be waiting for us at the end. When I was little (okay, maybe just a couple years ago and even last week, but anyways) I was actually scared of a cure. I don't know why. It just seems like after "being your own pancreas" with shots and then a pump, trusting something else sounds kind of scary. I know that sounds a little nuts. Maybe I also thought that hoping for a cure would make me bitter about my daily duties. I thrive on a positive attitude and most days I have one. Well, minus a day here and there and a week now and then, but most of the time I am pretty positive about it all. Although I secretly LOVED it that my grandpa hated my diabetes. I miss that. He would make comments here and there about how terrible this diabetes thing that I had was, and I would try hard to come up with some Pollyannaism about how it was all good. It was sort of a game for me since I had probably already thought about his negative a million times before. It was good practice for my head . . . and heart. And in spite of my diabetes (and maybe BECAUSE of it), I am so very blessed. God has used it to grow me and shape me. Recently my mom shared with me that the doctors and nurses were really concerned about me in the hospital because my attitude about it all was so strange and sort of distant. But, she believed in me. And, I rose to the challenge.

Recently I have met several sweet little ones just getting diagnosed with it, and honestly, I hate that they have to deal with it. There are so many better things to conquer . . . I know. I have a list!

So we are walking for a cure . . . and just maybe we will find it!


***EDIT: Just caught the irony that I used a picture of Kyndall and I at Krispy Kreme for a post on diabetes. Oh well. Maybe I need to get more pictures with her so that I have more choices!! :)