Let love be without hypocrisy. Abhor what is evil. Cling to what is good. Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honor giving preference to one another; not lagging in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord;  rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation, continuing steadfastly in prayer; distributing to the needs of the saints, given to hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse.

Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.

Romans 12:9-15

Friends, I love this chapter in Romans, don’t you? Cling to what is good? Yes. Love without hypocrisy? Yes. Be kindly affectionate? Yes. Weep with you? Yes, and I’ll probably bring you a casserole too.

These verses have sustained me and encouraged me for many years, and I always thought I attempted to model my actions using this scripture. Until recently. Do you know what I realized I have the hardest time doing for you?

Rejoicing with you.

Not blessing those who persecute me. Not being patient in tribulation. Not abhorring what is evil.

Nope, none of those give me as much trouble as the simple act of rejoicing with you.

Are you weeping? I can weep with you. My heart truly hurts for you. I want to reach out and help you. I want you to know I am there, praying for you, supporting you, standing next to you. I will organize a food train that stretches out for weeks. (In the South, bringing you food is our way of saying, “We love you. We are praying for you. Eat some potato salad and banana pudding and feel as close to heaven as you possibly can while still on Earth.”) I will babysit your kids, I will buy you groceries, I will take care of you.

If I can do that, then why do I have so much trouble rejoicing with you?

I’m going to honestly say, I don’t have an answer to that question. All I know is that when I see you have had a wonderful vacation with your family, when you and your husband took a weekend getaway, when your child had an excellent year in school, when you get a new car, when you get a great job (I could go on, but you get the idea), I have a really hard time rejoicing with you. Somewhere, there is a little part of me that is holding back. I’m happy for you, really. Except for that little part of me. That little part of me isn’t rejoicing at all.

Maybe it’s because I selfishly want those things for myself. Maybe it’s because I’m scared there’s only so much goodness in the world, and if you take some of it, there isn’t as much left for me. Maybe it’s because I feel like my life is not as fun as yours.

Or maybe it’s because I want you to understand.

When Hugh was diagnosed with Type 1, I felt so alone. I felt like no one could possibly understand what we were going through. I was so angry that while most moms had to worry about their child’s behavior report, or next test, or baseball game, I had to worry about keeping my child alive for the next day. There was a canyon in my heart between me and everyone else. And I stopped rejoicing with you.

I hope you understand that this was not intentional. It never occurred to me that my hurt was creating a barrier between us. I did not realize until now that I could not rejoice with you. And I hope that I’m not alone.

Dear Friends, we have a hard time rejoicing with each other, don’t we? Maybe it’s because we all have hurts and sadness and pain and we just want someone to understand. Maybe if we all shared the good and the bad, we could start to rejoice again. I don’t know about you, but I rejoice a lot easier with someone when I know where they have been, what they have endured, and how they have overcome.

When was the last time you can say you truly rejoiced with someone? There have been only a handful of times that I can recall rejoicing with pure selflessness and love. And it felt so good. It was a feeling I can only describe as God’s love filling me up and pouring out.

We were not created to be miserable, jealous people. It doesn’t feel good. And I truly love the life I have. It’s not perfect, but I am beyond happy with my home, my husband, my kids, my family, my friends, my job, my church. When I take the time to think about it, your happiness does not take away from mine. It only adds to it.

So here is my promise to you. First, I will try to say “Me too” more often. Having a really bad day? Me too. Stressed out at work and yelled at your kids because they were an easy target? Me too. Scared that sickness or death is lurking around the corner? Me too. Worried that your children aren’t going to turn out ok and you will be to blame? Me too. Had a fight with your husband? Me too.

Second, and here is the much harder one, I promise to start rejoicing with you. When you tell me about your new job or new house or great vacation, I am going to take a deep breath, push out those thoughts of selfishness and fear, and I am going to truly rejoice with you. I am going to take your hand, smile, and let that feeling of God’s love pour out of me. I might not get it right every time, but I’ll be working on it. (And I might even bring you a casserole for the happy occasion).

                             “The two most powerful words when we’re in struggle: me too.”  – Brene Brown

Recently, we visited Hugh’s classroom for his birthday. While we were there, he had a short time to stand up in front of the class and share some things about himself. He had planned ahead, and brought his special bear Rufus, to show the class. He wanted to talk about diabetes and tell his friends a few things about Rufus (the diabetes bear from JDRF).

Now, I have to tell you, Hugh loves an audience. He delights in being on stage and having all eyes focused on him. He comes alive when there is a crowd, so there was no hesitation as all his little classmates began asking him questions about diabetes. After the first few questions of “Do the shots hurt?” and “Why do you have to check your blood sugar?”, came the inevitable question we always know is coming . . . “How did you get diabetes?”

Hugh knows how to answer this question. We have discussed it many times. “Nobody knows how you get diabetes. Even doctors and scientists don’t know. My pancreas just quit working.” Then from the crowd of little people, someone shouts out “He ate too much sugar.” Hugh’s shoulders slump and he sighs. That’s when Mama jumps in.

“Do you all think that Hugh got diabetes because he ate too much sugar?”

Everyone answers in one loud chorus, “Yes”.

Ouch.

I know this shouldn’t bother me. It is a crowd of 7 year olds, for heavens sake. But as I started gently explaining that it was not because he ate too much sugar, it is just something that happens, I was mad. I was mad that this group of kids could blame Hugh and me for something we could not control. I was mad because I knew I was getting blamed by their parents at home. “Don’t eat that cupcake or you’re going to get diabetes like your friend Hugh.” I was mad because of all the education and awareness I try to spread, Type 1 Diabetes is still a mystery to so many.

But really I was mad because I still blame myself.

It’s silly, I know, to shoulder the blame of Hugh’s diabetes. I’m smart enough to understand what happened to Hugh’s body and that there was nothing we could do to prevent it. My mind knows the facts, my heart tugs in a different direction.

Call it old fashioned Southern guilt (we Southerners are so good at it), or a Mama’s longing for a different outcome for our children, or simply the way I’m hardwired, but there are days I can’t help it.

I ate a honeybun EVERY DAY when I was pregnant with Hugh. And not those small little honeybuns that come in packages of ten. I’m talking about convenience store honeybuns that you only buy on vacation. EVERY DAY. He was really sick when he was born because I developed an infection in labor. I couldn’t nurse him right away and he had to have formula in a bottle.

I let him eat all the icing he wanted off his 1st year birthday cupcakes. When he was two he had his first ICEE and he drank every last sip. We made once a week trips for ice cream . . . I could go on and on.

Why do we mothers do this to ourselves? And more importantly, why do we do it to each other?

I’m ashamed to admit that when I hear of a child who has died from complications of T!D, I immediately start researching the story. I devour every article, like a hungry man who is getting his first meal in days, until I can find a reason to blame that child’s parents for his/her death. Yes, you read that right, I blame the parents.

Why do I do that? Because I can’t bear the thought of the same thing happening to Hugh. I just can’t. I find something that I can blame the parents for, so I can tell myself that that will never happen to my child.

I do the same thing to those parents that others do to me. I blame them for something they had no control over. I want my life and my story to be different, and if I do everything right and never make a mistake, then Hugh will live a long and healthy life. If I can find out what those parents did wrong, I can save my own child.

I know why you blame me for Hugh’s diabetes. I know why in the back of your mind you think, “I wont’ give my child that extra cookie because I don’t want them to have diabetes like Hugh.” I know why you watch me and try to find something that I did wrong. You want a list of what not to do, so that your child doesn’t end up like Hugh.

I get it. I do the same thing. We all know that Type 1 Diabetes is not caused by eating too much sugar, but there is still the blame.

Friends, can I ask you for a favor? Let’s STOP the blame game. Let’s stop looking at moms whose lives aren’t perfect and children aren’t perfect and quit blaming them for making mistakes to mess it all up. We all make mistakes. There is no playbook for this life. There is no instruction manual on how to save your child from diabetes or cancer or a car accident. Sure, there are good choices that we can make, but that won’t save us from everything.

Let’s STOP looking at people like they deserve bad things happening to them because of their choices. Let’s STOP blaming them for life just happening to them. And let’s STOP feeling like we deserve good things because we have done everything right. We don’t deserve any of this life – good or bad.

And while I’m asking for favors, my friends, can I ask for one more? The next time you hear someone talking about diabetes and that it is caused from eating too much sugar, or if you hear someone saying they knew someone who had diabetes who did not take care of themselves, or if you listen to a joke about how eating one more slice of cake will give you diabetes, can you gently correct them? Can you let them know the truth? Can you STOP the blame game?

I promise that if you work hard at not blaming me, I’ll work hard at not blaming myself.