More Hands, More Heart

One of the sweetest parts of this journey has been watching Maybel become more hands-on with our beadable items. While I’m still heavily involved, her growing role has given me the gift of time—time I’ve been using to reach out to our community for support.

Over the past few weeks, we poured our hearts into writing and mailing more than 100 letters. Each envelope carried a simple ask: help us share Maybel’s story. We weren’t asking for donations—just permission to hang a flyer or a willingness to pass her story along. We reached out to familiar towns, local businesses, churches, radio stations, and newspapers. We even walked door to door.

And to be honest—it was discouraging. The response was not what we had hoped for. Maybel felt a little alone in it all, and as her mom, that’s a hard thing to see.

But amidst the silence, a small light appeared: our very first radio interview. While Maybel wasn’t quite interested in speaking on air, I think we both did okay for our first time. It felt like the beginning of something—maybe the start of momentum, maybe a little reminder not to give up.

I don’t expect 100 replies. I don’t expect everyone to share our story. But I do hope that the seeds we’re planting will grow into support and awareness. Because the truth is, insurance doesn’t cover diabetic alert dogs. Families like ours have to raise every dollar. We’ve even revisited online services that sometimes donate alert dogs, hoping and praying that a door might open.

When we started this journey, I imagined having Maybel’s service dog home by this winter. What a Christmas gift that would have been. Last year, she looked at me with all the innocence of a child and told me she wanted to ask Santa for a cure. A cure for type 1 diabetes. That moment still brings tears to my eyes.

And as I write all of this, it’s during a slow morning at home. Maybel and Magnus are building some pretty cool magnatile creations, while I sit here watching the clock on her Dexcom. It was just put on three days ago, but it isn’t working properly. These sensors are supposed to last ten days, but even when they do, there’s still the skin damage from the adhesive and the poking. It’s not a fun experience, and now I’m betting we’ll have to replace this one today. No readings for more than two hours means finger pokes all morning long. Added stress. Annoying. Frustrating. It just… sucks.

We don’t have a cure. We don’t have her dog yet. But we do have a community—and for every person who shares, supports, or simply remembers Maybel in their hearts, we are so deeply thankful.

This journey is hard. It’s emotional. It’s full of hope, setbacks, and small victories. And while we may feel deflated at times, we know that every effort, every share, and every kind word matters.

From the bottom of our hearts—thank you for walking this road with us.