A Little Bit Longer…and I’ll Be Fine

This was the title of a song composed by a well-known band of brothers, also known as the Jonas Brothers. They became popular while I was in college, right around the time I was diagnosed with Type I diabetes in the middle of my freshman year. I can still remember watching them perform on stage. The youngest of the three brothers, Nick, could play guitar and sing, but he also did some pretty spectacular stunts during the show. At the time I saw the concert, I was extremely weak and unable to even conceive of doing any activity that was physically strenuous again. The effects of diabetes having been undiagnosed for such a long period within my body had broken it down to a basic shell. I will never forget seeing Nick on that stage and thinking, “if he had diabetes he would never be able to do those stunts.”

Imagine my surprise when it was publicly announced that Nick actually had Type I diabetes! What was his secret? How could he have so much energy? The answer was revealed to me over several years by the grace of God. My diagnosis of Type I diabetes might have been the greatest learning tool God has ever blessed me with (and yes, I do mean “blessed”). I learned what living a life of suffering really meant. I woke up every single day grateful that I could draw a breath. Some days were good, but more often, each day was a struggle from beginning to end. It took a long time for me to recover after my original diagnosis, not because of the effects of diabetes, but from my severe fear of the disease. I became a recluse–all four years of college I either went to class or shut myself up at home, terrified to leave the house. Eventually, I did find motivation to get out, and each time I became stronger, but only because God provided the strength and gave me the wisdom to see His influence on my life.

The greatest and most significant moments were the times when my blood sugars fell to a dangerously low level. Most of these occurred in the dead of night. I would fade in and out of consciousness, my thoughts completely scrambled, unable to figure out what was going on. I would lose control of my body; my brain would demand movement, but my limbs would fail to comply. It makes sense that in those moments, I would simply fall into despair. If not for the presence of the Holy Spirit and some guardian angels, I would have done so. Generally speaking, an expert would claim that my recovery from the low blood sugars was due to the immense amounts of sugar my mother and father forced into me to get my blood sugar up. I know the truth, however; only Jesus Christ, my Savior, had the power to command authority over that sugar and allow it to bring my failing body back to life.

Those moments when my mind was almost lost, there was only one thought I could muster and that was of my Savior. I know there is a divine reason for that as well. Low blood sugars are perfect reminders that we do not have control over our lives, and our only hope relies on the mercy of God. I am alive today, not because of the glucose I have consumed to bolster my blood sugars, but because Jesus Christ willed me to be resurrected.

I must admit I had forgotten the strength of my Savior. It had been awhile since I had a low sugar episode until last weekend. This recent episode was nowhere near as bad as the ones in my past, but it was sufficient for me to take note of it. For the past year, I have been struggling with other health issues. My life had become consumed by intense scrutiny as to how I could fix myself. I had fallen into despair because I felt I had tried everything–everything except returning to God. He has not taken away the cross I currently carry, but has given me the strength to carry it, and when I am not strong enough, He will carry me and my cross. When He lifts me up in His everlasting arms, He whispers, “a little bit longer…and you will be fine.”

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Originally published at Kitty in the City

Photo: Diana Simumpande, Unsplash / PD-US