Mikey Likes It!

It is too early in the morning to think, yet here I am waiting for the coffee finish brewing and thinking. After all there's not much else to do when you're about ready for work at 6:45 am. As I listen to the sound of the coffee pot gurgling, I wonder how many times I have heard that sound before. I grew up as a child who loved coffee. I would sneak the last sips out of my parents' coffee cups every chance I got and I can still remember the taste and going after that last tiny bit that never gets drained from the cup. In my mind, no matter what brand it was, it was "good to the last drop."

Thinking back to those younger years, most of my memories are associated with foods. I can remember watching Hawaii Five-O and eating fish sticks and french fries (though talking about it later with my mom revealed that we only did this a couple of times) sticks in my brain for some reason. I can remember watching The Price is Right and eating pickle-loaf sandwiches. Also, some of the remaining memories of commercials have to do with food: Indeed, "what would you do for a Klondike bar?", "how many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop?", "Oscar Mayer does have a way with b-o-l-o-g-n-a." and "Mikey will eat it. He'll eat anything!" However, my memories are not merely limited to eating in front of the television.

Going to do almost anything outdoors with my family required a trip to Dairy Queen on the way home, where we usually got hot fudge sundaes and later the Blizzards of different kinds and sizes. Almost every little league game required those large thin Jolly Ranchers. In my "I don't like cake" stage, my mom made an orange Jell-o birthday cake. I couldn't stand celery and I made that known, especially to my grandma when we went on a family vacation together. I can remember one time when my dad was stationed in Ft. Dix, New Jersey and we had a lobster dinner on base and it was so good I can still remember the taste of the lobster dipped in butter. And when I was around the age of 12, I out ate my dad and uncles at an all-you can eat buttermilk pancake breakfast by eating 12 pancakes to their 9. I have always been able to put away the food. In the first 5 months of marriage I had gained 10 lbs and in the following 9 months (BreAnna's pregnancy with Elia) I proceeded to gain 30 lbs to a maximum weight of 215 lbs, how's that for a sympathetic husband? However, sadly I lost it all by Elia's first birthday, or rather in the two months prior to her birthday dropping to a skinny 170 lbs without even attempting too. I went to the doctor and he said I had juvenile diabetes (I was 23 at the time) and would be taking insulin shots the rest of my life.


I am and have always been a lover of food, not that I have ever had weight problems though, which is one thing that makes diabetes a difficult to manage disease. I want to be able to truly enjoy a meal without having to add up all the carbohydrates, because that can get pretty depressing at times. I don't want to have to check my glucose level before meals, after meals, or before a possible snack, or whenever, and I really don't want to have to write them down. Do I know the risks of out of control diabetes? Yes. Does that scare me? Absolutely. So what am I doing about it? Nothing. Why? Simply because I like food? No, that's not it. It is because I love having dinner with my family. Not watching them eat, while I check my blood sugar, write down the result, do the math on how many carbs I am about to shove in my face so that I am not the last one at the table, and give myself the appropriate amount of insulin. So, how long does this all take, you may be asking? Answer: an average of 1 to 2 minutes.

That is 2 extra minutes spent smelling the yummy meal my wife has worked hard to prepare. 2 extra minutes that I hear my children smacking their lips and telling my wife that she is a good cook. 2 extra minutes spent at the table that they are using to get done with their first helping so that when I finally start eating, the big question comes: "May I have some more (fill in the blank)?" and I get frustrated with them, because either I haven't even started on my first helping or I just had my first couple of bites.

I am such a sinful man that I admittedly place the satisfaction of my taste buds and belly in front of my own health. Call it gluttony, selfishness, or whatever else, I am guilty. Often I ask for forgiveness because I am not taking care of this vessel, but do not know where to go next. I turn to Scripture for comfort and realize that I have a misplaced hope. I hope that God will graciously grant a cure for diabetes, but I know that is not the certain hope of Christ coming in Glory. I know my hope for a cure is not the sure hope of having a glorified body. I also know that I am not to hope in body, for that is not what the Kingdom of God is about. Instead I am prompted to hope in the Glory of God and not food or cures.

It's Gabriel's Birthday

Remember all of those things you say that you are never going to do? I have several of those and today, August 15th, I am reminded of at least one of those. As BreAnna and I were picking out names for our first son, we decided on Gabriel Micah. Gabriel was what he was going to be called primarily because it would be to confusing to call him Micah and because BreAnna likes nick-names and she was going to call him Gabe. At the mention of this I staunchly refused to ever call him Gabe and with good reason: If we took this long to decide on a name, why shorten it? He should be called by his given name. Well. . . it was not long before he was born and here he was: Baby Gabey, after all, our two year old daughter had to call him something and she knew he was a baby and that his name was Gabriel but had trouble with the name so we simplified. Now, he is called Gabe by all, although I more often refer to him affectionately as "son".
I have often asked myself, if he understands or appreciates that I call him son. BreAnna has alluded to the importance of a son in her blog at http://frenziedfowlers.blogspot.com, but I hope to flesh that out a little more here so perhaps he and I will more appreciate it.
First, I call him Son, because that's what he is. He is flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone. I am forever his father and he will forever be my son. By calling Gabe, Son, I am ever reminded of the responsibility of a father.
Second, I call him Son, because of the importance I place on having a son. I have always loved history, and throughout history it has always been important for a man to have a son. To have a son means that my last name, the name of my fathers, will be carried on one more generation. Until Gabriel's birth there had only been girls born into the family, I believe at that time there were about 10 to 12 granddaughters and no grandsons. For all practical purposes, it appeared that the Fowler name was fading. Now do not get me wrong, I love my daughters very much and I would not trade them for sons or anyone else, but I wanted my father to be honored by bearing a son, that his name might continue. I was already witnessing the end of the Wood surname on my mom's side of the family and that still saddens me, as I greatly love and respect my grandpa and would desire him to be honored by the perseverance of his name. Thus, I call Gabe, Son, because of his significance in the furthering of the Fowler family.
Finally, I call him Son, because it is a reminder to me of the sacrifice of Christ. The only begotten Son of the Father, who willingly did the will of the Father to the point of becoming accursed through death on a cross. It is the love between a father and his children, between father and son that I am most reminded of. It is of the love that accomplished its purpose, not simply for the greater good (i.e. that one dies so that more could live) for that is not the love of God. God knew the agony his son would have to go through for our transgressions, a slow and anguishing torture and death accompanied by physical, emotional and spiritual stress that no mere man could endure. God knew that his son would die, knew that it had to be done, that it was the only way and knew that his Son would rise again and be exalted. Gabriel, whether he likes it or not is my son. I pray that one day he will be an imitator of Christ, being sanctified by the Holy Spirit an adopted son of the living God. That Gabe will do the will of his Father God with unswerving faithfulness and duty to his Lord. I pray that as a father, though I know I fail often, he would see the Holy Spirit working in and through me to an imitator of Christ as well as a better father. May God grant us both his mercy.