Yahweh's Real Good at Puzzles, Just Ask Levi

Have you ever put together one of those thousand-piece puzzles?  Makes you want to do a touchdown dance and force others to marvel at it.  It can actually just be a 100-piecer, or even less, for me to feel that "I rock" feeling when the last piece is in place and I can see the whole picture.  It's so satisfying to make sense of it all!  At first, you're just staring at all the scattered little cardboard shapes with different colorations.  It's madness.  You pick one up, and it's utterly meaningless, a blob of gray with a squiggle of green across the top, or whatever it is.  It only has meaning when it's connected into its rightful spot in the whole.  Likewise, the whole lacks complete meaning if that one piece is left out.

Then you think about Yahweh working on the puzzle of our existences with a gazillion pieces, only it's one of those 3D puzzles (except, who am I kidding, you know His is, like, some weird version of 7D or something), and each piece is its own tiny 7D puzzle made up of tinier 7D puzzle pieces, and the whole thing morphs in time.  My brain hurts just typing that. 

(To follow a quick rabbit trail here, because I'm passionate about it and just canNOT help it, I'll add that this is part of why we must live circumspectly, aware of the bigger picture, which is His picture.  And we must live according to His specific will for us and word to us.  On any given day, we might encounter solitary circumstances that test our knowledge, our fortitude, our emotions [hello], or our will to stay the course.  If we're just looking at the one, somewhat meaningless-on-its-own puzzle piece, we better not make any move until we've consulted with Him.)

*And somehow here, I get theological for just a bit, but it prefaces the very cool puzzle pieces of Yahweh's total, fabulous faithfulness to a little boy that you'll read below it all.*

So how does our fight with the insidious diabetes in Levi's life fit into the ol' grand scheme?  Not to get overly theological, but I'll throw in that I don't buy the shade of Calvinism that embraces absolute predestination.  Yahweh is relational, and while I'm not getting into it here, I know that He created us with the ability to choose.  In Romans 8:29, it says that He foreknows (everything: our choices, our circumstances, us), and therefore He predestines certain other situations to match up with those choices and end up working out for our glory, making us Christ-like.  And many of us know the Jeremiah verse that He has plans for us, to prosper us and give us a future and a hope.  And actually, just a verse before that Romans reference, in verse 28, it states the popular teaching that He works all things together for the good of those who love Him.  So we have a choice.  But He's ever working with our choices on our behalf if His will is our goal.

Here's another little nugget to chew:  I do not believe Yahweh gave Levi diabetes.  I don't think Yahweh "gives us this cross to bear" trying to teach us something, although He will absolutely teach us through it.  Sickness and death are not His will for us.  Sin and its imperfect consequences are not His will for us.  I believe, to condense it all very simply, that it is the result of the imperfect world we inherited and that it is an opportunity for us to rise in His strength and defeat it, until every enemy is underneath His feet.  More on that bold statement some other time!  (If you want to chase it down, here are some starters:  Matt. 22:44, 1 Cor. 15:25, Heb. 2:8, and my favorite Heb. 10:13.)

Of course, Yahweh in His majestic, God-Of-The-Universe-I-Speak-And-Things-Appear-Ness knew that Levi, and we, had this battle coming in our life.  As Levi's covering, it's more our battle at this point than his, which is exactly how I want it.  And so Yahweh's lined up some inexplicably handy things in Levi's little repertoire to help us be successful as we walk it out with His help.

As we've implemented the protocol and adjustments required with this situation, I've begun to see some puzzle pieces fall into place that, before, seemed insignificant.  But as the proverbial light has dawned, I've continued to find myself shaking my head at the grace and love of our God and His interest in all areas of our lives and, moreover, in our success there by His leading.  There are only three that have been glaringly obvious so far, but they make such a difference.

Puzzle Piece Number One:  Levi is a terrific adapter. 
The day he was born, I was holding him and talking to him, and of all the sweetsy, cooing blubberings I could have mumbled and did mumble to him, I heard myself say, "You are such a great adapter."  Adapter?  He was a baby, not an electronic device.  I'd known him maybe 30 minutes.  And that's what I had to say.  I knew it was the Holy Spirit and I knew I was prophesying to him about part of his anointing, what Yahweh had placed in him.  Well, I've seen it play out through the various changes and adjustments that occur in a regular childhood, but never could I have fathomed a child who is more go-with-the-flow about the crazy things that we now have to do to him to combat diabetes.  Each new member of the hospital staff that we meet seems to recognize it fairly quickly, especially as a comparison to other kids.  Believe me, Levi is not always a go-with-the-flow personality, so this particular piece of the puzzle stands out all the more. 

Puzzle Piece Number Two:  Levi is a terrific eater. 
Not only that, his eating habits in general perfectly match up with what is most convenient for his current battle.  I was really careful from his infancy about what he ate and didn't eat, and about exposing him to a big variety of fruits, veggies, and flavors, trying to train his palate and habits for a healthy lifestyle.  But I have begun to realize that much of his preferences are also just his nature beyond what I did.  He loves salad, and if you put a meal before him that involves the usual starch and meat and veggies, he'll always go for the veggies first.  And he's not a big snacker or grazer, which is hugely helpful in getting an accurate blood glucose reading every so often.  Diet is obviously a big deal with handling diabetes, and where others have had a great hurdle of change to overcome, we've just kept on with what we've always done.  We haven't had big fits and struggles.  We haven't had to overhaul the whole family's outlook.  We just already had the right piece for the puzzle.

Puzzle Piece Number Three:  Levi has never thrown up. 
In fact, he has hardly ever been sick.  Apparently, sickness can really mess with blood sugar levels and can make management trickier.  But throw up, well, it's a giant RED FLAG.  It really messes with the inner balance of things, and if there's any throw up or even just nausea, the hospital wants to be called immediately.  It can cause ketones (you don't want those at all) to appear in high numbers, and at the same time it can cause the blood sugar to go really low.  The way to combat ketones is with more insulin.  But with a low blood sugar, you must not give more insulin.  So it's a seeming catch-22 that worries a lot of people.  If Levi ever throws up, I know we'll manage it just fine.  But having always marveled that he's throw-up-free, I now especially marvel at the fact that he's the only kid I know that's never done it and he's one that highly benefits from that predisposition.  Thank. You. Yahweh.

These three seemingly insignificant or trite puzzle pieces have always stood out to Jed and me as singular to Levi.  Now, we just shake our heads at how much grace comes wrapped up in these three puzzle pieces when they fit into the current grand scheme of Levi's life.  We cannot live our day-to-day routines in tandem with all this and see it as coincidence.  It's just too obvious.  Too glorious.  Too helpful and beneficial.  Yahweh's grace is sufficient, to say the least! 

It's Levi's life: Yahweh's masterpiece.  He is worthy.  Of our praise.  Of our all.

RIP Confusing Mole

DISCLAIMER!  What follows is another post that might make some guys feel uncomfortable.  Even some girls.  I don't know how else to warn you except to say that for me to tell a very innocent story, I am required to use the word "nipple" far more than one would imagine necessary on the outset.  But it involves honest conversations with a three-year-old about mostly things that are not actually nipples.  Uncomfortable yet?  If so, here's your chance to gracefully exit, no hard feelings!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before kids, I had a tiny mole on my neck.  But then, at some point late in my first pregnancy with Levi, I began to notice the mole get considerably bigger, but it still wasn't a big deal.  My doc had told me that pregnancy hormones do that and not to worry.  It stayed that way until my second pregnancy with Adelaide, into which it grew again and became quite formidable, for a mole.  There are certain things that just don't bother me: scars, moles, freckles, slight blemishes of that sort.  So this one didn't really bother me either, though it had sort of developed its own personality.  See for yourself:

(And I purposely chose a picture/angle
that's not too imposing.)

We all know that with kids, no subject is off-limits.  They have questions about life, and one of the unexpected pleasures (most of the time) of parenting is all the very straightforward explanations we get to dig up about poop, death, body parts, good-and-evil, you name it. 

Levi was three when Adelaide was born, and he had lots of questions about nursing.  I happily answered them in that delicate, tight-rope routine we all do to give understanding and also be age-appropriate, perhaps even inserting important teachings about privacy and such.  I think it's right here that I can pinpoint the moment that I began to have feelings about my growing mole.  It was during one such conversation when Levi pointed to it and asked, "How come you never feed Adelaide on that nipple?"

<Imagine tires screeching to a halt>  Hold on, what???!  I looked at him and blinked, then laughed really hard, then explained to him that it was just. a. mole.  Not. a. nipple.  This was a good time to fine-tune my nipple explanation from earlier.  I proceeded to show him other much-more-normal-and-size-appropriate moles I had, which, looking back, must've been more confusing since none of them really looked like the weird neck-mole.  But it seemed to work out.

"Oh," he said.  No big deal.  Nipple, mole, mole, nipple.  Who cares?

No one cares.  I didn't care.  I, the confident-in-her-own-skin woman who doesn't lose sleep over wrinkles, weird feet, her crooked thumb, cellulite, and plenty of scars, thought it was just a hilarious story.  I relayed the story to Jed and my sisters and girlfriends.  But I have to admit, over time, it started to nag at me a little.  I thought, "If Levi got so confused by it, who else might be distracted by it?"  I worked with a sweet girl years ago who had a wart on her tongue (yep, a wart, on her tongue), and I refused to let it distract me, so much so that my attempts at not being distracted sometimes backfired and made me that much more distracted!  I didn't want to subject everyone I knew to that same fate with my weird mole.  But I'd forget about it for awhile, then think about it again, then whatever. 

Then infants and small toddlers became obsessed with it.  When I would pick them up, Adelaide and all her posse would pretty much ignore me and go looking for my mole to push like a button or try to yank out of its socket.  Nice.  And not altogether comfortable.  I began to realize that, while I'd never had any "work done," I was ready to look into having this sucker removed. 

The clencher came one happy afternoon that we had friends over and a couple of stray kittens wandered into our yard.  They were tiny, obviously newly weaned, and starving.  Someone had dumped them.  I immediately scooped one up, and in nanoseconds, I kid you not, that kitten was trying to nurse on my mole!! 

My first thought:  "For the love of God!  IT'S NOT A NIPPLE!!"  Even God's innocent creation was mistaking it as such.

My second:  "OK, I get it!!"  I went swiftly to my neighbors' house and asked to borrow some cat food to get these kittens nourishment and keep my own dignity intact.  I officially determined then that I'd have it removed.  That was a year ago, but I am happy to say, for my own sanity and for the edification of those who must look at me from time to time, that last week, the mole went bye-bye.  And for those of you who see me often, yes, it's for you that I've waited to share these stories till after it's gone so as not to make the distraction that much worse!

The day of the removal, the dermatologist gave me a funny alternative:  "When this comes off, you'll probably have some minor scarring, just a little pucker like a tiny belly button."  Not joking!  The persistence of that spot to harbor some unusual body part was astonishing to me.  And I love that Yahweh has a sense of humor!

Truthfully, though, if I must exchange one odd body part to camp on my neck for another, I'll happily trade a nipple for a tiny belly button.  Remember?  I don't mind scars.  And at least it's not an arm or a foot.  (It can always be worse.)                                   

Right now, it's still healing and actually looks quite like I imagine a bullet wound might look.  I have yet to see the full "belly button" effect, but I very much look forward to it. 

But the very best part was Levi's reaction to its removal.  After years of non-issue with that topic and what I'd thought was an understanding we'd reached, I came home from the doctor, and Levi said, "Hey Mom!!  Did the doctor take that nipple off your neck?"

.................<Sigh> 

I dropped my things on the counter, grabbed an apple, and finagled my big-bellied self into a chair.  I smiled at Levi, thrilled to give what I hoped would be my last such attempt at clarifying.  In T minus two weeks or so, we can trade these talks for ones about that crazy belly button that appeared where the nipple was.