Diabetes Weekend| 25 years
So tomorrow will mark a point in time that I have remembered, celebrated, hated, loved, appreciated, and cheered for the last 25 years. That’s right. Twenty-Five Years!
It was in 1986, I went to Dr. Boland to see about this weight loss thing, and great thirst taking place. Well, maybe mom took me, because I really didn’t know much as a 12 year old. I guess you could say it wasn’t too bad, or he had the empathy to give me the choice to either go right now to the hospital or have my parents take me the next morning. Duh! We’ll go tomorrow.
Diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. The only introduction I had to that was a TV show I saw earlier that summer where I guy was in the hospital talking about how thirsty he had been when he got diabetes and I told mom that I though I had diabetes too. Of course, it was a hot summer going to Iron Springs Christian Camp and learning that I needed to start wearing deodorant. Anyway 1986 was a very memorable year.
Then it was 1992, this weekend exactly, a Freshman at ACU with Freshman Follies weekend opening. Mom had drove to town to visit. And it was Saturday morning. I left Mabee dorm to meet her at the Kettle, but never made it there. It’s still hard to figure out how in the world I ended up where I did. How far I drove without the cognitive ability to remember. But I do recall the decision to make a u-turn in the road because it seemed the tunnel vision was getting smaller and smaller as if I were driving through a pin hole in the road. I made
the turn, missed the edge of the bridge by a few feet, and drove through a field into a ditch of mesquite trees. I stepped on the gas, attempting to move forward, but it didn’t budge. Most of this I don’t recall until I got out of my truck, dropped my keys, cussed the sky, and had the adrenaline rush of the LORD push me forward. I later marked off the 1 mile journey back up EN.10th to the Judge Ely Exxon Station to get myself a 48oz Dr.Pepper and KingSize Snicker bar. I called mom, and she showed up. The rest is history. But even after all that sugar, my BS was 48. Did you know you can live with a BS of 0? God uses even those with nothing to bring him glory.

Then it was 2007. I got the phone call from Dad telling me my good friend CarylFry had died. September 25th. And I was signed up to run my first 10k at the Abilene Balloon Fest that Saturday, that I flew back to First Colony to honor, love, remember, and speak words of truth during her service. A good friend. Not many of those left these days. But I cherish the few who have blessed my life as Good Friends.
And now. 2011. 25 years after being diagnosed with this daily condition of making choices. There are no days off to not take a shot. Change my insulin pump. Take my blood sugar. Without complications from ignoring. 19 years after I almost died in a field in Abilene, Texas. 4 years after I lost my good friend and sister in Christ, and diabetes Caryl Fry. And 1 more day of waking with the LOVE of Jesus beating throughout my LIFE. For it is today I live.
And tomorrow, as I run my 10k I will be filled with the emotion of those 3 precious children, knowing that best friend who has my soul in her heart await my arrival at the finish line, throwing up their hands, yelling out for me, showing their excitement (even if I ask for it) that they are proud of me. And I am proud to be their dad. I am proud to be your husband. I am proud to be your child. Your brother. Your friend. And your fighter!
Some days one moment at time feels like a lifetime….RUNSTRONG!!







Up early to watch TV. Off to Blakely’s birthday party at the skating rink. The boys got to play some alone, skate, eat cake, enjoy themselves away from the girls. Early dinner at the Clyde Pizza House, with bouncy balls.
Because Jackson, I even wrote a song about these same things, wondering where in the world my Father was. Is he there? Is he listening? Can he stop, fix it, change it? Yes. Doesn’t he know things are stupid today? Yes, he does. And if it’s anything like today, he is probably as hurt as I am, knowing the pain, but also wishing he could just wrap his arms around me and say “Steve, it’s ok. I am here. Talk out of your butt all you want. I will still love you.”