Not the Pinky

“Not the Pinky because it’s the baby,” this was our five-year-old granddaughter’s reply when Granddad asked, “Ethne, which finger should I use to test your blood levels?”
She wanted to protect the baby, even if it is only a baby finger. Less than a week ago we all learned that Ethne has diabetes. I want to protect her; after all she’s still just a baby in some ways, so young, so innocent. I don’t want her to have to prick her finger four times and day and get insulin shots three times a day! Seven pokes every single day for the rest of her life, this Grammy really doesn’t like this news. It reality stinks.
Still, it’s better than many other things. She gets to live, even if her life (and ours) has altered. I don’t usually invited change or challenge, I’m comfortable being comfortable. I like the boat that doesn’t rock and the status quo is really okay with me. If I had my way I’d never change, never mature, never learn about deeper faith.
Good thing I’m not in charge. Someone Wise and Good loves me, and Ethne and He has a perfect plan for the whole world and for every single day of our individual lives. The only way I get better is when things get worse. It’s because I won’t change unless I’m forced to and I refuse to grow on my own. The squeeze of God’s tender hand molds me and fashions me and teaches me to trust Him, even when it’s painful. For me, the hardest test is when those I love hurt. And when it’s my children or grandchildren, my heart feels especially breakable. “Just let it be me, Jesus. Please, let it be me!”
But He is Lord to little Ethne, too. And He will carry her and hold her and be real to her in her challenges and in her joys—and in every single stick of the needle. He seeks out each one of us for that face-to-face and heart-to-heart relationship. And I want, more than anything, more than comfort and ease, more than painless days, I want each of these precious descendants of mine to know the sweetness of God’s faithful parenting.