Huge Little Blessings

This morning, I went grocery shopping with a friend and three of her children. And, I might add, the experience brought to mind some sweet memories of Walmart runs with my own three children when they were young. Though it took more time than I normally spend at Walmart on a Saturday, I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of the outing and wouldn't trade one second for the countless moments of joy I received.

As fate, or more appropriately ... God, would have it, one of my bags of groceries ended up staying in my friend's car rather than making its way into my house. And, as God would have it, when my friend and her children came to drop off said stray bag this evening, I was in the midst of yet another low blood sugar episode (which have been the rule rather than the exception for a couple of weeks now). I had cooked dinner and was struggling to get some food into my stomach to raise my sugar level to an acceptable place and curtail the shaking. My dear friend has experienced me in this condition enough times that she immediately took charge, filled my plate, helped me sit and started aiding me with my food.

As I've said before in my posts, it is very humbling to have someone else feed me, hold my drink or stick my finger to check my blood sugar when I am trembling. Let me say that again ... it is very humbling for someone who is as stubborn and independent as I have been for 50 years to be relegated to the position of opening my mouth like a child to be fed, having to drink from a straw that someone else places between my lips, or extending my hand for a needle stick and blood draw that another person must execute for me.

When I find myself in the position of needing this type of help, one set of thoughts dominates my mind and consumes my attention ... "This is so embarrassing and humiliating; I wish this would just end. I'm supposed to be the strong one, the person who takes care of my family and friends. It shouldn't be the other way around ... I shouldn't be the one who needs help." As I lifted my shaking fork to my mouth, my eyes closed in concentration, losing half the food on the way, I felt someone take the fork from my hand and place the food gently in my mouth. I opened my eyes and saw a little boy, six years old, carefully feeding his 50-year-old friend. He softly said, "Terrie, you're shaking." I then looked to my right and saw his 10-year-old sister holding a fork filled with blueberries, quietly and calmly waiting to give me a bite, smiling sweetly at me.

I wish I could say that I am totally humble and holy and that my first thought was one of gratitude and thanks. The real truth is that my first thought was, "This is what I've become ... little kids are feeding me." And then ... then I looked into these children's eyes. The care and compassion and love that I saw in their young eyes paled in comparison to what I saw in their hearts. Here were two young kids who didn't see a shaking, sick old lady ... they saw a person they loved who needed help and they stepped up to do just that. No judgment, no fear, no worry ... just pure and simple love and a strong desire to help me get better. Their older sister got in on the act, too, by retrieving my blood sugar testing kit and holding my drink to my lips.

So here I type tonight, humbled once again, but not humiliated. And my prayer? That when God sends even the smallest ministers to help me, my soul will sing with the thought, "Thank you, Lord, for these blessings ... these huge little blessings ... these young friends with such big hearts. Make me worthy, Lord, of You ... and worthy of them."