Conversations you never want to have with Your Twelve Year Old Daughter

We were speeding down the highway as fast as I could while appearing to be relaxed and in control. We were on our way to the doctor, but this was anything but a normal visit with a sick child. The last 36 hours had proven to be a perplexing mystery of symptoms and illness. And my twelve year old daughter knew that something seriously wasn’t right. In between grasps for breath as she was hyper-ventilating, she asked, Dad, what if it isn’t something simple, what if it’s something worse,… what if,…

In the past two days Katie had taken a decided turn for the worse. Wednesday she had come home tired and slightly sick to her stomach. Yet she had held down multiple fluids and some toast. Every indicator was just mild, edgy, vague – nothing definitive. For the past 2 ½ weeks she had complained of being tired. Yet she had had an amazing growth spurt – almost 2 inches in less than a month. Cindy had checked in with the school nurse to explore whether some other illness was moving through the school population. Yes, the nurse had said on Thursday afternoon, strep throat going around that only showed a low-grade fever. Yet after more than a day of sleep, Katie was exhausted on Thursday night. I approach Cindy that night and we discussed our concerns and fears. We decided to wait until the morning to see if she would shake this off with more rest.

But here we were Friday morning rushing to the doctor. Katie had awakened even more tired with increasing weakness. I had weighed whether to take her directly to the ER, but Cindy said that an examination and communication from the Doctor’s office would expedite things at the ER (she was right).

On the way, she was getting worse. In our light hearted discussion, she paused and asked me her question: “Dad, what if it is something serious, something,….”

In these moments (which you pray that you never have with your children) you hope that you will respond with great and deep wisdom, but I had no idea what to say. So I did what we normally do almost every day on our way to school, we quote scripture.

(Me) “Katie, ‘Trust in the Lord,…” and she answered “with ALL your heart.”
(Me): “And lean not,…” (Katie) “on your own understanding.”
(Me): “in all your ways,…” (Katie) “acknowledge Him.”
“And (together) He will make your paths straight.”

The power of this simple truth of trusting the Lord rushed into our minivan and gave us strength for that moment. Whatever the future held, we would face it with Him, and trust Him for the outcome. For He is the Lord and worthy to be trusted. He will provide the grace to face anything.

God’s mercy and grace were abundant that day, as many events would reveal in the coming hours. Grace to hold onto Him when Katie’s life was unsure, grace to care for and love and encourage one another while in the ER as we conversed over our cell phones. And grace throughout the long night in the PICU until Katie stabilized in the morning.

Katie was diagnosed with Type I diabetes. She went from an intense fear of needles on Saturday to giving herself shots by the next Wednesday. As I slept those next few nights in the hospital, each night I would gaze upon my daughter’s face, while she was sleeping, seeing, now-rosy cheeks compared to the ashen hollow ones on Friday and hearing regular relaxed breathing compared to her labored rushed breathing before, and I am deeply thankful. Thankful to the Lord for His mercy for that moment and for His constant grace for now and his promises for the future. Grateful for having had a conversation with my twelve year daughter that I would never want to have.