Sprouting in the Dark

Last Christmas I received a flower bulb kit from one of my nephews.



I forgot about it until a couple of weeks ago when I was thinking about spring clothes and discovered it in the corner of my closet. I thought that the bulb was perhaps dead from not being tended to. I had to look twice when I opened the box, for there it was, sprouting and with green shoots coming out the top - in the dark! Mercy.



I put it into soil and the perfect spot on my windowsill. And here is what we have today.





Gosh, neglected, discarded and still the potential to bloom. I know, of course, that bulbs represent the dormant/resting stage of a plant. But still, this seemed like a miracle.

In March I passed over the 35 year mark of having diabetes. It still floors me. I took it for granted that I wouldn't make it much past 20 and was absolutely certain that I'd be dead before I reached the 25 year anniversary. ..........sigh.........and here I remain today. Since I started blogging, I wonder if things would have been different in the early years had I had an online community to talk with. After all, the only examples of pwd's were my relatives, most of them suffering from debilitating complications. I didn't know anybody who was living well with db. I only knew that at family gatherings the conversation would stop when one "of us" walked into the room. And then there'd be the hushed commentat that she "takes those shots too". My small town family practitioner knew nothing, and that was not his fault. When I was in the hospital he just kept increasing my single dose of NPH until the fasting glucose the next morning was within range. Sheesh - how did any of us survive?

I believe it is because life, all living things, have within them the greatest of potential for survival, just like the bulb in my closet. I believe that it's never too late for good control, and I believe that the possibility for renewal and healing are always close at hand. Sure, I gave up on myself many many times. But by grace or fate or fortune, was always able to rise back to the surface.

Spring has arrived here in Minnesota. The snow is gone, the sidewalks are dry and the trees will soon be showing new growth. Tomorrow I will wake up to a handful of oral meds, needles, lancets and the certain assurance that I'm still happy to be here.