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We found 8 result(s) that match your search "religion":

I am not a religious person. I was raised a Quaker, which has directly influenced how I feel about religion. I understand people have faith, I respect it, I just don't.

 

But when I read about the family in WI who allowed their daughter to die due to untreated type 1 diabetes, preferring to pray for God to heal her instead, I was absolutely livid. How could you allow your child to stop talking and walking and just think that's ok? Just think that God will make it all better?

 

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The other night my wife, kids, and I went over to my sister's house for dinner.

Upon arriving we realized we had forgotten a crucial ingredient for the dish my wife was bringing. (Cheese-if you are wondering!)

My wife and I took a quick trip to local grocery store to pick up the cheese and possible get something for dessert. This was not the original plan but it seemed like a good idea to me!

We went into the store and quickly found the cheese she needed.

"Alright, let's go," my wife said assuming we were done!

"Um, I was thinking we should get dessert." I said it with that smile she cannot resist or at least, she makes me think so.

"Alright, what do you want?"

And this is when I freeze up. I have no clue what to get.

"Maybe just some cookies. That sounds good."

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One thing I have learned over my years with this disease is that many people know nothing about it. All of those typical stereotypes are still running rampant and sometimes its up to us to educate these people.
At times I feel like my shoes are soapboxes when I talk about diabetes to my family and friends. I never used to be this way but more and more I see how diabetes is misunderstood and instead of complaining about that I hope I can make a difference. I'll tell you, it is worth. (READ MORE)

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I spend a lot of time thinking about if I will ever have complications from my diabetes. The very thought of diabetes problems scares the crap out of me. My determination to ward of complications has a direct correlation with how I control my sugars on a daily basis. In other words, every time I treat a low or a high, thoughts of amputations or blindness are running through my head. Those fears are some BIG MOTIVATORS. I don't want to come across as the guy who just sits around and waits for something bad to happen. I am not the type of person who just mopes around hopelessly or just sits around thinking of nothing else but diabetes issues. I try to stay positive most of the time. My glass is usually "half full" rarely "half empty." (READ MORE)

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One underlying theme of diabetes blogs and complaints is the difference of our daily routines from those of people who have never known a blood glucose test, never chosen foods based on specific ingredients or an organization's endorsement, never had to dress in a manner different from those around them, and never had to follow a ritual not of the mainstream. Yet we see, meet with, and talk to people who do this on a daily basis, who could never think of not doing this (or who would never consider it)... who do not have diabetes, nor are they housemates of people with diabetes. (READ MORE)

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Every so often, a discussion will pop up about how to refer to those of us with glucose metabolism issues. Whether it's "diabetic versus person with diabetes", "borderline versus prediabetes", or even the whole "Type 1 / Type 2 / Type 1.5 / Gestational / Other" schema, these discussions run very deep to the core of our sense of identity... perhaps just as deeply as skin tone, religion, or ethnicity.

 

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One of The Other Half's family holiday traditions has been to redecorate their entire houses in Early, Middle, and Modern Christmas. Everything from the knicknacks on the end tables to the rug and hand towels in the guest bathroom is redone in red, green, snowmen, and old-fashioned Santa Clauses. The centerpiece of it all is the Christmas Village.

 

While some folk pride themselves on collecting all the pieces in a particular name-brand collection, most of these villages are odd collections of pieces purchased from sale racks here and there, or made by friends and family.

 

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Amidst the candles, the dreidels, the latkes (potato pancakes), gifts, and gelt (either real money or foil-covered chocolate coins), there is the maggid (story). The story of a people, oppressed by a new king who wishes them to assimilate into a different religion and culture (or to assimilate more fully into that culture), a king who defiles the holiest of holy sites, families of resistance fighters who perish -- completely -- in the quest to keep one's lifestyle and beliefs alive, and a small, hermetically-sealed bottle of oil which -- miraculously -- burned for eight days, a full week longer than it should have, enough time for its replacement to be made. Ness gadol haya sham -- a great miracle happened there.

 

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