Happy Birthday to Charity Lynn Throener! 25 years old today. Lift your glass and cheer this girl I met over 13 years ago… We were both (dorky) 7th graders at Pound Junior High who had recently moved to town, both needing friends amidst the maze and chaos that defines those young adolescent years. Encore, Mr. D (the egomaniac) falling off the table – ha! and telling me to “get those greasy bangs out of my face”, Paula and Yucca (“Yucca, my cup ranneth over about 10 minutes ago!” “Cosmo-freakin-politan.” belch.), youth group at EFree & one very fun New Year’s Eve party, DC Talk & Audio Adrenaline concerts, 9th grade basketball (including the infamous flash of pink at the Lefler game!!), and lots of passing notes between classes. Moving onto Southeast High School we thought we had arrived… Spring Day, plays and musicals, journalism, tp-ing cars, getting rejected for basketball and the one-act in the same month, football games at Seacrest, proms and post-proms, major crushes on boys (some pretty cool and some, we now realize, quite unattractive!), experiencing Horn Creek and realizing our lives were forever changed by it, visiting Lipscomb University and Covenant College, still writing notes and passing them in the halls, and finally graduating and successfully moving on. You to Covenant and I to the University — both not sure of what we were getting into. You found a family there and I found mine here; amazing how God works, huh? : ) The Philippines and FFH, St. Louis and CTS. Lincoln, Nebraska. Soon to be living next door. It’s been a beautiful 13 years. I love you! Happy Birthday, Scarlett/Paula/CT!

Salty, stinging, sleepy eyes. Drifting in a heavy half-conscious dream-like state. Unquenchable thirst where room temperature tap water tastes amazingly sweet and refreshing. This is what I feel like when my blood sugar is 372. Which it was 5 minutes ago. God bless the day insulin was discovered.

The body that has normal pancreatic functioning maintains a blood sugar (also called glucose) of 80-120 or so all the time. When I was 16 I entered Bryan Hospital’s pediatric ward with a bs (I love referring to it like that) of over 800, setting a record for the highest glucose reading of any patient walking into the hospital on her own two feet. I think some unfortunate soul broke my record shortly thereafter. The day I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes I nearly fainted during choir rehearsal at school, told the nurse and my mother I felt good enough to drive myself home, promptly went home and ate a humongous piece of fudge. That piece alone probably kicked me from a 600 or so to my record-setting reading several hours later. Mom and I went to our family doctor’s office that afternoon (November 13, 1994 — a day that will live in infamy) praying that God would reveal to us what was wrong with me. And He did.

You know how some people say, “What doesn’t kill you make you stronger!”? I disagree. Diabetes sucks. I’d love to live my life without it.

Diabetes has, however, helped me become a more compassionate, empathetic person who greatly values both the workings of the human body and the incredible God who created all our parts to function as a whole. It also grants me a longing for heaven, when my body will be made perfect again, that I would otherwise complacently ignore. In a way diabetes is my reminder to not get too comfortable this side of glory.

So even though I completely, totally, unequivocally despise the fact that my blood sugars can range from 460 to 35 (my personal highs and lows), I am not left without hope in my struggles. My current 372 is already coming down and I’ll feel normal again in a few more hours.

God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good.

My latest reading obsession is historical biographies related to war. After watching HBO’s “Band of Brothers” (highly, highly, highly recommended) I’ve been fascinated by personal tales of military tragedies and triumphs. I am especially taken with prisoner of war stories, which account for the last four of six war-related novels I’ve read recently:

Band of Brothers: E Company, 506th Regiment, 101st Airborne from Normandy to Hitler’s Eagle Nest, Stephen Ambrose
Edith’s Story, Edith Velmans-Van Hessen
Faith of our Fathers, John McCain, Mark Salter
Ghost Soldiers: The Epic Account of World War II’s Greatest Rescue Mission, Hampton Sides
In Love and War: The Story of a Family’s Ordeal and Sacrifice during the Vietnam Years, James & Sybil Stockdale
We, Band of Angels: The Untold Story of American Nurses Trapped on Bataan by the Japanese, Elizabeth M. Norman

And congratulations to Sarah & Dave who celebrated their 1st anniversary last Sunday (April 13) and to Haley & Dan who entered into holy matrimony yesterday in Hattiesburg, Mississippi.

Shall I comment on the book I’m currently reading, or some theological discussion I overheard today? No, I think I’ll rehash “American Idol” and add to the overwhelming number of bloggers who have opinions on this subject. Kim C. is gone — fine with me. Carmen should’ve been kicked off first though. I retract my strong opposition to Josh the Marine. He’s not as bad as I thought he was, though I still am tormented by his rendition of “Celebration” — come awn! — yikes! Trenyce has been disappointing in the last several weeks… Perhaps the diva-Whitney-Houston-mimicry is all she’s capable of? I attempted a vote for Kim Locke after I realized it’s all about strategy from here on out. Only the good ones in danger of getting kicked off the island (oops, that’s another show) really need the votes. Clay is still good with his wonderful, Broadway voice and Ruben’s soothing vocals are tops. That’s all the deep thoughts I have to offer.

The Myotherapy Institute in Lincoln. It’s a school for massage therapists and thus only charges $25 for 50 minutes of that which “allows the body to surrender to a state of inner tranquility and to open the mind to new clarity” (quote stolen from their brochure). Many students will graduate in August — meaning, they’re nearing the end of their schooling and are getting better on a weekly basis. ; )

Here’s what my birthday gift certificate earned me last week:
“The Revitalizing Massage… A gentle kneading of the scalp, neck and shoulders followed by an application of warm moist towels allows this accupressure facial massage to leave you in a state of complete tranquility. A combination of hydrotherapy techniques and a pressure point foot massage makes this treatment one which leaves you feeling truly rejuvenated and alive!”

I was definitely tranquil — practically in a coma by the time I left. Alive isn’t quite the word I’d use… I told the therapist-in-training (Amber if you care to know) that I was really relaxed during the massage, to which she replied, “I could tell!!” Hmmm… Was it the drool or the dream-interrupting knee-jerk that tipped her off?

This is mom’s Mother’s Day gift for 2003.

Susan Meckel for noticing my interest in magazines like “Critique” and “World” and subsequently introducing me to “re:generation quarterly” (whose byline is “community transforming culture). I’m fascinated by the articles I’ve read so far this afternoon. Here’s some food for thought (vol. 6, number 1, p. 13) by freelance writer Cheryl Sabas who while still single moved from her comfortable neighborhood to the Mission District, a ghetto where her church was located:

“..Certain subversive truths had been revealed to me by my relishing of the Mission District as sensual, intellectual, and spiritual feast: that the Mission wasn’t as bad as we were afraid it was, and our presence there wasn’t as sacrificial as we thought it was; that ministry is best understood not as a subject/object relationship, where one person serves a somehow needy other, but a mutual, reciprocal relationship (no matter who’s saved yet and who isn’t); that if you don’t want to meet people, you can’t claim you love them, either spiritually or otherwise — and if you don’t enjoy them, they don’t want your love anyway; that just as Jesus was both fully divine and fully human, so love that represents him accurately must be both divine and human.”

Lunching on the front porch. Raking, weeding, hauling leaves. Cleaning the car out. Petting adorable neighbor puppy. Adding freckles to my square-jawed face (that’s for you, B).

What did you do today?

Praise God for a president and national leaders who sought to rid Iraq of their evil dictator. Read this Journal Star article for responses to the war by Iraqis in Lincoln.

Didn’t even get to watch ‘American Idol’ this week, but just read about who got kicked off… RICKEY? What the heck??? Is this show rigged? If you know even the teeniest thing about vocal music, then you know that little chicky Carmen or bad girl Kim C. should’ve been kicked off in advance of Rickey. I think people just didn’t like him because of personality issues. Sure, sure — you could make an argument on how the show is meant to find an American “idol” blah, blah, blah. But Rickey? Ridiculous.

My vote for who has got to go? Josh. Face it, he’s stuck in country and can only twang his way through a very limited number of songs. God bless the Marines, but, buddy, it’s high time for you to get the boot.