All images snapped in January 2014.

Last weekend approximately forty women descended upon my friend Jen’s home for a daylong women’s retreat. It was awesome. And restful. And life-giving.

Jen’s cat Clooney held his own amongst the ladies. Initially he planted his fluffy body in the middle of a walkway as though to make sure everyone knew they were in his space. Later, as I walked through the home snapping photos, I found Clooney in the ultimate position of repose—reclining on the master bed. Nay, not just reclining, but leaning back into the pillows as though the plebians could go about their business in the main rooms, but he was going to catch up on his beauty sleep, thankyouverymuch.

Oh Clooney, you are too much.

I went to an appointment this morning. And then it snowed really hard. I scraped the heavy, wet snow off my car and came home more bionic than I was a few hours ago.

Bionic? Does anybody use that term anymore?

This girl, the one who is s-l-o-w to embrace new tech is now wearing new tech. I’m plugged in. The nurse educator I met this morning wasn’t familiar with The Matrix, so I had to explain that it felt kind of sci-fi, almost like I was getting a bug implanted in me. She is CLEARLY not wed to Jeremy Tredway. (I not only know The Matrix, I’ve watched it more times than I can count and can quote it if the mood is right.)

I already wear an insulin pump. Every few days I insert a needle into my abdomen, remove it and in its place is a small catheter that delivers insulin to be absorbed through the fat layer of my body. The insulin pump is an incredible piece of equipment and is worth the irritation of wearing a pager-sized device on my person at all times. I remove the pump itself for bathing or swimming, but other than that, like Ruth and Naomi, wherever I go, the pump goes too.

Today we added another piece of equipment to my body and from what I understand this new device will also make my life more beautiful. Once I figure out how to really use it, that is. I got all squared away with a CGM—a continuous glucose monitor. It is a lot smaller than the pump and is inserted in a similar way, with a needle that is then removed almost right away. This time the teeny-wheeny super duper small part left in my skin is a glucose sensor. It reaches what’s called interstitial fluid underneath the skin layer and reads a glucose. From my fingertips I draw blood glucoses (BGs), but from the CGM it’s called a sensor glucose (SG). The deal is that I wear this small sensor and transmitter all the time and then I don’t have to prick my fingertips as often. The real beauty of the situation is that the CGM will allow me to see how my blood sugars are trending. Going up, going down, going down fast? It can tell me all that. It will also beep incessantly to, say, wake me up at night if my glucoses drop dangerously low.

A few weeks ago I woke up around 2:00am to sirens in my neighborhood. I am strongly attuned to siren activity after living in a fairly transitional ‘hood for over 10 years, and as any good neighborhood watch person would do, I went to the window to see what was going on. A few days later I learned that a neighbor had a really bad low blood sugar reaction complete with seizures and the emergency personnel struggled to wake him. He went to the hospital. Having this occur so close to home was a solid reminder that good control for someone with diabetes means walking a fine line of normal glucoses versus dangerous ones. Thus all the helpful tech I’m talking about. The goal is to keep folks with diabetes as healthy as they can be.

I don’t really know what I’m doing with the CGM. I know that I’m waiting until noon to calibrate it and that I’ll do several more calibrations later in the day. I have a few handy guidebooks that will help remind me how things work and what goes where and when to do what. There’s an 800 number that’s available 24/7 and the nurse wants to check in with me later in the day. Other than that, I feel confused and trust that various pieces of equipment will beep at me soon and then I’ll be digging for those guidebooks once more.

Those who know me and love me well know that I would completely ignore diabetes if I could. They don’t like this about me and everyone wants to help me care for myself better. But the truth is that *I* have to want it. All the wanting in the world can’t make me be responsible for diabetes if I don’t want to be responsible.

Diabetes is full of numbers and graphs and charts and precision and pokey things like needles and lancets. Do you see all the graphs and stats I post on The Prairie Box? No? And there you see the bend of my personality.

But this year I will hit 20 years of living with diabetes. I want to stick around for a long time. I want to be in good health as long as I possibly can be. I want to be ready when a surgeon comes at me with stem cells that are magically turning into a working pancreas, though I can’t really talk about that much because it seems like such a far off dream. So for now, for today, I want to engage the absolute best piece of tech—the one that makes more of an impact than any insulin pump or CGM on the market—and that is my brain. Nothing money can buy is more important or helpful to diabetes care than the strength and will God has given me to make good choices.

Feel free to ask me about diabetes. I’ll share what I know! Do not feel free to ask me if I can eat that piece of cake or not. It’s none of your business. And I say that in the nicest way possible. ;)

When I think about what I want to do in the future, and some of my favorite shoots of the past, women are at the top of my list. Photographing women as they work, as they love, as they learn, and as they grow (sometimes physically, always relationally/emotionally/spiritually) brings me great satisfaction.

I have MANY images from last fall to share with you. Enjoy this shot of Elaine Cranford, taken in November 2013, in the final days before little Asher came into the world.

May you have even a portion of the joy of a nine year old girl with a $9.99 bear from Target.

Love to you all, from the Tredway family.

Dear Livia Raine,

You are loved with an everlasting love, a love that goes into eternity, a love that knew your name long before you came into being.

Today I want to tell you about that love, the love that God has for you. It is BIG, it is POWERFUL, and it will conquer all.

This morning I met with other moms of kids who go to your school. We get together to pray for you and for your teachers, for the administration and the staff. Afterwards a few of us moms talked about our daughters and their friends. Really, we talked about the struggles our girls are having with their friends. Girls are getting left out. They’re wondering who to sit with at lunch. They are making new friends and sometimes leaving old friends behind. They cry at home as they worry about who will like them and who will want to spend time with them.

I’m no different from those little girls, from you and the kids you go to school with. I’m a grown-up but I still have those feelings inside me, those worries about who to sit with at lunches and other events. I sometimes feel like there’s no one around who wants to be with me and sometimes I worry that my friends will leave me for others who live closer or are more fun than me.

Liv, we all want to be loved. We all want for someone to stick close to us. We all cry when our feelings are hurt or when someone betrays us. There is not a person on this earth who doesn’t want to be loved.

So here’s the good news:

God loves you. You belong to God!

He chose you since before the world was formed; you are a part of his holy people and he will faithfully love you forever (Jeremiah 31:3). The psalmist says it like this, that God’s love goes all the way up to the sky, as far as the clouds. It’s a big big love. It’s a love that wraps around you and keeps you safe. When you feel like hiding or when you’re feeling small, God says you can take comfort in his arms, within the shadow of his wings (Psalm 36:5-7). He loves you so very much that nothing you can imagine has the power to separate his love from you. Not the school cafeteria. Not a third grader who won’t play with you at recess. Not someone who makes fun of you for no reason or for a dumb reason or even for a good reason. God is not like that! He is all love FOR YOU, all the time. No one will ever ever ever be able to make God NOT love you. Not death, not life, not angels, not the devil, nothing in all history before you were alive and nothing in all of the future that stretches before you (Romans 8:38-39).

You have the world, Livia Raine, because you have a God that adores you, his beautiful, smart, precious, creative daughter. He has given you eternal life through his son Jesus. He has given you his spirit, to live inside your heart and direct you each day. He has given you everything in his love, absolutely everything.

May you always know this love deep down in your heart and may this knowledge make you rise above the hard things of this world. You are loved with an everlasting love, my daughter.

I am proud to be your mama.

I love you.

Thoughts, in no particular order:

• Getting away, pretty much anywhere, inspires me.
• I love having to walk to reach my destination.
• I’d like walking more if I didn’t have stupid joint problems in my feet.
• Beds with messy sheets appeal to me if the bedding is nice.
• I know these are mostly wide angle shots, but really and truly that margarita was huge.
• I did not feel good after drinking half that margarita on an empty stomach.
• LIGHTWEIGHT. That’s me.
• Jeremy is my favorite travel buddy ever. I just love him.
• Watching schoolchildren recite the Pledge of Allegiance on a rooftop playground is charming beyond all words.
• The end. For now.

Whenever we leave Nebraska for California midwinter, an undressing ritual is involved. In a car with heat blasting from the dashboard we shimmy out of our fluffy winter coats and make a dash for the airport in something more suited to mild San Francisco climes. The jaunt from car to shuttle, or car to airport this time, is a heart-racing, frozen-nostril kind of event, but knowing I’m heading towards warmer temps is enough to keep my spirits up. Returning home is another thing entirely. By this time those fluffy winter coats are popsicles in the backseat and the only saving grace about getting into the car is that it buffers us from the freezing plains winds.

The Lincoln airport is a funny little place. Some might call it quaint. Others might think it’s plain ridiculous. But it does the job, right? I’ve found the TSA employees there to be, at times, completely overzealous, but they were very chill this last trip. The other LNK employees are delightful in their helpfulness usually. I’m always surprised when I don’t know *anyone* waiting at the gate with me. Because anytime I go to the mall or Target or the grocery store I see someone I know.

Prepping for a trip is its own kind of exhausting and even though I love to travel I always question why I’m going through so much work to get out of town. But the moment eventually comes where you sidle up to your gate, rewrapping your scarf and perhaps rethreading your belt, and you’ve arrived. No more responsibilities. No more arrangements to make. No more instructions to give. Just you, all your anonymous travel companions, and a flight attendant who will bring you something fizzy in a little cup. Ahhhh… Let’s go.