When my son was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes I began to pray that God would heal him immediately. For entirely selfish reasons I did not want this hard new lifestyle of needles and carb counting and blood glucose levels. I did not want it for Knox and I did not want it as a Mom. No thanks, something less hard please.

There was even a moment in the hospital that I prayed the hardest I’ve ever prayed for something. Knox was continuing to have low blood sugar levels and because we were giving him insulin I began to think that the lows were because he did not need insulin. Was he cured and we were just dosing for no reason? Please God let it be true. As they pricked his finger I cried out in my heart for the number to be low again so we could discuss a new diagnosis of “fluke diabetes.” But it wasn’t to be. The number was entirely to high to suggest anything but diabetes.

It’s been two months since that day and healing hasn’t come. Instead we count carbs and divide by blood ratios given by the doctor and then prime needles for shots. Knox no longer runs from us and tells us kindly, “that wasn’t bad today Mommy,” after a shot. It’s all kind of normal now and I wonder what that means. Should I keep praying for healing or thank God for acceptance and an incredible little boy with strength tenfold? The answer can be yes to both but it can also point towards something entirely different as well.

I met a family in the hospital who are dealing with a nasty brain tumor on the stem of their daughter’s cerebellum. They have no guarantees of success of treatment or that it won’t rear it’s ugly tumor head again in two years. They don’t have much of anything promised to them on this side of heaven except the promise of Christ with us. And when you put it like that I guess it doesn’t matter if Knox get healed or the tumor goes away. It just matters that God is with us. That’s all we really have and need.

This can sound horrible at first to swallow because a little girl is suffering and what if she relapses or gains disabilities from treatment. How could the promise of we are not alone measure up to senseless suffering. It doesn’t measure up of course because the promise covers the suffering instead. And this is the greatest hope of all. It is standing in the face of the storm and not crumbling because the storm never mattered in the end. God with us, the Hope of Glory, is what mattered.

We are blessed beyond measure because we are still here. We are still fighting and God is with us.