My first Thankful Thursday . . . I’m excited. I’m pensive. I’m honestly . . . a little anxious. I wanted this first THANKFUL post to be spectacular, unique, awe-inspiring. So I began digging in my mind trying to come up with something that would completely WOW you with total amazement.
And then it hit me like a brick wall. The things I am most thankful for are simple. “Everyday.” It’s the things I miss that brings the purest joy into my life . . . and they are passing me by every day. I take them for granted. I must stop and “smell MY roses” because nothing lasts forever.
Not only were my thankfuls simple and everyday, but when I stopped to think about what I am thankful for THIS Thankful Thursday, I thought of so many. Too many to list. And it was hard to narrow it down to one. But Thursday happens every seven days, so today, I’ll just start with just one.
One of my partners in thankfulness, Cam Little, took my first thankful thought this morning because she is more of an early bird than I am . . . synthetic insulin. It’s not been around forever. And the history of man-made insulin is so intriguing to me. And although I am thankful for this LIFE SUPPORT (NOT cure) for my child, I will not steal Cam’s thunder. Instead, I will share with you what went through my mind about three hours ago.
Hands tell the age of a lady.
I’m starting to show lines on my face. I am kicking myself for not being more proactive with my skin in my younger years. So, I’m playing catch up with that. But regardless of how well I keep my face in good condition, use all the anti-aging, moisturizing, renewing creams, UV protection and cosmetics, if your eyes move from my face to my hands, they will show my age. And I hate that. Ugh.
But this morning, Ryan needed a pod change (his insulin pump for you non-d readers). I was going to change it early yesterday evening, but he asked me to wait until this morning, so I did. At 6:30a, when my eyes were still trying to focus, right after I made them breakfast, at Ryan’s request, we did a pod change. It was right side belly time. Ryan was talking to Aaron non-stop during the whole five-ish minute medical procedure that we perform in our home every three days or so. And honestly, the chatter was driving me nuts. But I said nothing.
As I used both hands to slightly pinch up around the cannula with my left index finger and thumb and secure the top of the pod with my right index finger, I seriously noticed my hands. And I thought, “They are starting to look so old!”
Ryan pushed the “START” button. Click 1 – Click 2 – Click 3 – POP! Cannula inserted perfectly. Ryan scurried off to eat his breakfast. I stood up from my squatting, pod-inserting position and looked at the backs of my hands.
Insulin is life support. The OmniPod is an amazing piece of technology, a tool (again, NOT a cure) that keeps him healthy and happy. For both, I am extremely thankful. But in our house, my hands play a most vital role. My hands fill that pod with the insulin. My hands hold that pod in place while he presses “start.” My hands made that change simple, routine and normal while Ryan and Aaron carried on as usual with their incessant chatter.
When I think of all the things my hands do, no matter how old and unattractive I may perceive them to be, I am thankful for them.
These same hands hold the hands of three little boys when they are sick, when they need help after they have fallen, or when they need a minor injury to be cleaned and bandaged.
These hands pick up the toys that are left all over the floor all over my house because there are three little boys that live here.
These hands fold the never ending mountain of laundry of size 6, size 7 and size 18 (or 28×30 ADULT pants/jeans of my 11-year-old!) because there are three little boys live in my house.
These hands fill the diswasher once or twice a day because I have dirty dishes from the non-stop eating of three ever-growing, never-full little boys that live in my house.
These hands lift chins to encourage, wipe tears to comfort, pull bodies close to hug, gather blankets to tuck in and take pictures to capture memories.
And one of these hands wears a ring that is a symbol of a promise that I do not walk this life alone.
These hands are important.
These hands meet their needs.
These hands work hard.
These hands are healthy, strong, and free of ailment, weakness or disease.
These hands are blessed . . . and I am blessed because they are mine.