Here's Some Advice...

I look for advice when I feel myself sinking - I seek it out. When my mom was dying, and then after she died, I read a LOT online in cancer support forums and in books about prayer during grief (ironically enough, books I inherited from Mom's bookshelves). I read hymns. I read Luther and the Bible and the Creeds.

Mostly, though, I just leaned. I leaned heavily on those around me. I leaned into writing about the pain and how my faith was struggling to survive. I leaned into food - LOTS of food. I eventually leaned back into prayer as I somehow figured out how to trust God again.

Many who knew me then didn't try to offer advice on how to grieve. They know I've had lots of loss in my life and so grief is something that feels almost like that old friend that I don't want to see ever again - and yet - there it is, showing its face again. Many who knew me then were simply present - they simply walked with me: holding me when I cried, listening when I screamed, offering prayers beyond number and comfort beyond measure.

It was powerful.

So, now I have diabetes, and suddenly, it feels like many in my life are Experts. Advice comes from every direction: well-meaning ones - all sharing what they either know to be true from their own experience (including those with diabetes themselves), or what they've read about diabetes in some hack magazine, or what their cousin Joe's experience with diabetes was in 1947, and everything. in. between.

People. I love you. Notice the words "well-meaning" above. Please notice those words. I know you mean well. 

But really, I've been overweight since I was ten years old. I've been on and off diets, eating plans, and exercise plans for many years of my life. There's an old saying: "I've lost hundreds of pounds in my life!" I have. Some have come back. Others have stayed away. But really, I know what it takes.

And this struggle - just like someone's grief - is not one you will be able to fix for me. It isn't one you'll be able to advise away, like some kind of problem at work or an issue with a boyfriend. It's one I must simply accept, and then care for in the best ways I know how.

I do not walk alone. I absolutely do not. And what has been most helpful in the almost-two-months since my diagnosis is the presence of those who simply have listened and prayed. Those who have laughed with me, or have cried with me. Those who have asked questions, in order to learn how to be helpful. Those who have offered loving words and support.

So, here's some advice for you...

Just listen.

Just be there.

Laugh or cry with me.

Ask questions, if you have them.

Offer answers or advice when I ask.

Pray for me.

Love me.

And loving me may mean watching me make some mistakes. Loving me may mean that I'm going to do some things that don't seem right in your eyes. Loving me may take more energy than simply giving me advice.

But love me anyway.

Because - here's the thing:

I. love. you.