The Sacred

Happy New Year

Dear Friends,

Happy New Year to all of you – near and far and wherever you are.

You may be the type of person who makes resolutions or goals. You may be the type of person who doesn’t believe in that. You may be the type of person who celebrates a New Year with parties and fireworks, or you may be the type of person who chooses to ring in the New Year with a good book and a soft bed.

However you choose to bring in 2024, though, there is one thing I know for sure. Your year is going to be a good one.

This might be the year you get a new job! Or a new house! This might be the year your precious baby is born or you marry the love of your life. This might be the year THE ONE comes into your life and you are forever changed.

This might be the year you finally run that marathon! Or write that book! This might be the year you travel to a new place, earn a raise, get picked for the team, find your forever dog, or meet your best friend. This year will definitely be the year where good things happen in your life. I can guarantee it.

I know what you are thinking. This year might be the year where not-so-good things happen too. And I guess you’re right. This year might be the year of terrible loss for you, a heartbreak, an unbearable pain. This year might be the year that introduces great sadness into your life or something might happen that scares you more than anything else. I’m sad to say that good years often have bad things in them too. And I am so sorry that these things might happen to you.

But even in these awful things, the good will still be there. You know why? Because the good is in you. The good is in others. The good is in the very air we breath.

With every step you take, every inhale and exhale of your lungs, with every heartbeat, the good is there. It’s woven into your DNA. And it’s even in the birds that sing to you every morning. It’s in the trees dropping their leaves and the turtles sunbathing on logs. It’s in the smiles and the hugs and the laughter. The good is everywhere.

I hope you see that this year. I hope that you hear Goodness calling your name. I hope you know that Good always wins over evil.

If I have learned anything in all the New Years that I have lived, it is this – the more I look for the Good, the more I lean into it, the more I walk hand in hand with Goodness – the more I see it covering all of us. And it will follow us all the days of our lives.

Happy New Year – it’s going to be a good one.

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A Beginning of School Letter to My Kids

Dear Kids, 

Well here we are again. Another beginning of school. Another stressful few weeks of trying to figure out new schedules, new routines, new friends. Another season of firsts. 

It seems like these beginnings come faster and faster each year – one day when you have children of your own, you will understand. 

And because I can’t slow down time – no matter how hard I try – the next best thing I can give you is this – a letter reminding you to look for the fingerprints. 

You see, as you enter into this new phase of junior high and high school, those fingerprints become harder to find. I’m not sure why, but it probably has something to do with the world telling you to be the best, to never slow down, to roar and fight and conquer all. And because the world seems so loud and chaotic and consuming these days, we start to forget to look for the fingerprints. 

I know that as you go into this year, there will be so many wonderful things that happen. You will make some great friends. You will have fantastic teachers. You will climb mountains. 

But I also know that sometimes not so great things will happen too. You might get hurt by a friend. You may have a teacher who you don’t get along with. You will find yourself in valleys, I’m afraid. 

And that is when you must look for the fingerprints – On the days when you are walking through the valley. 

I promise you the fingerprints will still be there – they are everywhere really. But as we get older we quit looking for them. 

So kids, this letter is to remind you to never stop looking for them. Not when you’re 14 or 44 or 84. 

Seeing the fingerprints is what will save you. 

Where can you find them? And how do you see them? Well I’m not exactly sure how to explain it, but I can tell you that when you see them, you will know. 

When you sit next to a new kid at lunch because he’s eating all alone, and you don’t say much, but you give him a smile – there’s a fingerprint. 

When you see your teacher is having a bad day and you decide to not go along with the class joke of making fun of her, but instead you help her pick up papers – there’s a fingerprint. 

When you give up your seat on the bus for a kid who is struggling to walk – there’s a fingerprint. 

You see, we all have these fingerprints on our lives – we are covered in them. And they are fingerprints from something so GOOD and KIND that we never can get rid of them. And believe me, some people will try. Some people do some pretty awful things to erase the fingerprints, but they never can. 

Because those fingerprints are so full of LOVE that we will never be able to wipe them away.

And those fingerprints come from hands that will never lose us or let us go. 

Everyone has the fingerprints on them  – that’s what I want you to remember. Yes, even that kid who’s so mean to you he makes you cry. Even that homeless man you pass by every day on the street on your way to school. Even that teacher who gave you the worst grade you’ve ever made. They are covered in the fingerprints too.

Do you see them? 

I hope so. Because as long as you see them, you will be just fine. 

Have a great year. 

Love, Mom

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The Blanket

It’s 2 AM as I finally crawl into the hotel bed after sitting on the floor for almost 3 hours. Hugh’s blood sugar has plummeted after a long day at a school convention out of town. As hard as I try, his blood sugar stubbornly careens to levels that would put a grown man in the hospital. 

I give him 4 juice boxes to bring it up as I crouch next to the air mattress he is sleeping on. He wakes up on his second juice box, nauseated and disoriented from the crashing low. I bring a trash can over to his bedside. I wipe his forehead with my hands. I shove candy into the side of his mouth so it will absorb through his cheeks. 

He tells me he feels horrible, like his entire body is on fire. He groans and grits his teeth. I tell him he’s ok, that his blood sugar will be coming up soon. I don’t completely believe what I’m telling him. My hands are shaking, but I don’t want Hugh to see that, so I quickly tuck them under my legs. 

I google when I should administer the life-saving glucagon we carry with us at all times – the medicine I give him if his body loses the fight with his blood sugar. I know the answer, of course. I don’t need google to tell me it’s only when he is unconscious. But I do it anyway. Because I feel lost and scared and somehow, google knows all the answers. 

Slowly, painfully, Hugh’s blood sugar begins to rise. He is safe for now. Three hours of sitting on the floor has caused my joints to stiffen. I limp as I stand up. 

I feel his face one more time before I collapse into bed. I brush my hands over his forehead, his cheeks, his hair. He’s ok. We will sleep for a few hours before waking up at 7 for another full day of activities. We won’t tell anyone about the scare this night. Not because we don’t want to talk about it, but because no one will really understand. 

As I lay with my cheek on the pillow, facing Hugh in case he needs me again, I feel it once more. Anger. Hot, boiling, seething, red anger – and it settles around me like an old, heavy blanket. Cumbersome and oppressing, yet familiar and comfortable. 

I’ve worn this blanket before. And sometimes it feels good to wrap it around me. It feels deserving – even justified. 

I’m angry at myself, for missing the cues that Hugh was dropping low. Good heavens, Sally. You would think after 9 years of doing this you could get it right. You should be able to keep him safe. How could you have let this happen? 

I’m angry at you – all of you who don’t have to live this life. Everyone who sleeps soundly at night with no alarms and no blood sugar checks. All of you who have healthy children. My anger burns hot toward the naive and the un-tested. 

And I’m angry at the Man Upstairs, who could allow this to happen to an innocent child. A child who only deserves good and pure things in this world. What kind of God gives this burden to a boy?

I pull my blanket of anger tighter around my shoulders. I like the way it feels tonight. The blanket settles around me and keeps me warm. It gives me the excuse I need to spew flames into the world. 

As I grip my blanket tighter, as the justified anger seeps into my bones, as I begin to allow it to stick around, Hugh rolls over and looks at me. “Thanks, Mom” he says sleepily and then closes his eyes. 

“You’re welcome, baby” I whisper into the dark. 

And I slowly unwrap the blanket from my shoulders. I fold it neatly and smooth out the wrinkles. I give it one last squeeze, then I place it in the closet and close the door. I know it will always be there, but I also know there is only one thing that can free me from it. 

I’m sure you know what that one thing is too, but I’ll go ahead and tell you. It’s Love. 

Love wins every time. Love gently unwraps the heavy blanket of anger or fear or pride or hurt and replaces it with arms that embrace me instead. 

Love turns my head to see you – because you’re wearing a blanket too, sometimes. 

Love helps me notice that we all have blankets of anger. And while your’s may not be because of diabetes, it’s there just the same. Maybe it’s given to you after a divorce or a death or a failure or a betrayal. Maybe you try to hide it by hurting others or seeing the world as a dark and scary place. But Love shows me that what really is going on is that blanket – The one you can’t quite ever leave behind. 

And yet, Love whispers to me and to you again and again that when life is hard, when we hurt, when we are afraid, when our anger takes over, we can turn to Love. 

Love will hold our hand. Love will walk with us. Love won’t make us feel comfortable, but will give us joy beyond belief. And in this Love, we will want to share it with the whole world. 

So take off your blankets with me, dear friends, and join me in the One who Loves. I have been told that our lives will never be the same. 

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