Tonight my husband and I lit the first candle in our first Advent wreath, thus ushering in a new liturgical year a full month before everyone else will welcome the new calendar year. Growing up, I assumed that Advent was just an old-fashioned word for Christmas. I’d only heard it used in reference to the Velcro Christmas tree that I enthusiastically affixed with a different ornament each day in December, until I finally was able to release Santa Claus from his tiny pocket on Christmas Eve. I’d certainly never heard the term liturgical year uttered in my Southern Baptist household.
Maybe you’ve noticed that I stopped publishing new posts and responding to comments at the beginning of November. I greatly appreciate everyone who takes the time to read and comment, but the last few weeks have just been too difficult for me to respond. My husband and I took Christmas card photos this weekend, and I must have stared at the best one for thirty minutes last night, wondering how we managed to come through these weeks looking so unscathed.
After we’d been dating for a year, my husband and I decided to take a trip together to Las Vegas. We chose Las Vegas because of the ridiculously affordable flight plus hotel deals available, but most of our family and friends were convinced we were really going there to elope. At the time, I would have been fine with that. Just check out my thoughts on wedding planning to see why.
If we’d had anything to drink that week, there’s a good chance our wedding photos would have included Elvis and neon lights. Thankfully, we ended up trying to cram so much sightseeing into five days that we just didn’t have any energy left to think about eloping. We returned home sans marriage license, and I had no idea then just how much our future marriage would be affected by that decision.
So I nearly died again last night. It sounds dramatic, but with type 1 diabetes it’s just something that happens. Even with the best control, insulin needs change and monitors fail, leaving me blearily consuming Starburst at one in the morning, grateful that I was able to wake up.
In the simplest terms, the fact that I have type 1 diabetes means that my pancreas failed. Remember that the next time a daytime television talk show host recommends cinnamon to help treat diabetes. Most people mean well, but would you really suggest that someone with heart or lung failure should check the contents of their spice cabinets for treatment options? I didn’t think so. (more…)