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Maybe it was Zoe's staph infection that induced her recent weariness with her Type 1 diabetes.

Zoe, now 7, was diagnosed at age 3 and has used an insulin pump for three years. A few weeks ago some blood got into the tubing of her infusion set. The site became red and slow to heal so I asked the physician's assistant to check it out during a quarterly appointment.

As carefully as possible, the woman drained the area and swabbed it for staph and MRSA, but it still resulted in a few yelps of pain.

The incident, along with a few others, has set in motion a series of questions and emotions that I am not prepared for.

In the past, when folks asked us how she handled the disease -- the six to eight pricks a day for blood sugar tests and various diet restraints -- my husband and I always answered with good cheer.

"She never complains," we would reassure them. "She doesn't mind at all. We mind this disease more than she does. She hates having her hair brushed more than getting her sugar checked."

And the questioner would knowingly reply, "Yes, these things always bother the parents more than the children. They are stronger than we are."

But lately, perhaps because she is getting older, or because she is doing more of the diabetes care on her own, that has changed.

Where once Zoe would say, "I don't mind having diabetes, I like having diabetes because of all the extra attention I get," she is now asking "Why did God give me diabetes?"

"I feel like I did something really bad and that is why God gave me diabetes," she said. "He must really hate me. He loves everybody more than He does me."

Wow.

I have barely gotten past why God thought I could properly care for a child with diabetes. I am not ready for these queries.

But like so many parenting experiences, you learn fast and on your feet.

These are, of course, teachable moments. The moments you really wish your husband, a church elder well versed in comforting and suitable Bible passages, was at home.

All I know to do is to hold her and listen, to give her a safe place to share. I tell her that this disease is not the result of some past misdeed. It is just part of living in this fallen, broken world.

I reiterate our pastor's sermons, that our focus has to be on the next life, not the one here, if we are to cope with life's frustrations.

I try to acknowledge that while her chronic disease is a pretty rotten challenge, there are others far worse.

And I remind her that in some inexplicable way, this disease is part of God's plan.

Sometimes I choke on these words, bitterness gathering in my throat, but in the end, they are the truths I cling to and hope to impart.

Janice Carmac works for the News & Record as an editorial assistant. Contact her at janice.carmac@news-record.com or 373-7098.