Nine months long, wrapped in a womb, she made a grand entrance into the room. Out she came screaming, with pretty red hair, Her name shall be Peggy, we did declare.

Happy and healthy, as she could be, Mom and Dad, were filled with glee. Peggy grew normal, as any child should, First she crawled, then she stood.

Red hair? How pretty, her temper would show, Mom loved to dress her, in a pretty hair bow. “Am I pretty?” her soft voice would squeak, “Yes you’re pretty, with that dimple on your cheek.”

Growing was fun, then she was two, One horrible day, she caught the flu. Many days went by, she didn’t get well, Why this was happening, we couldn’t tell.

“Daddy, I’m thirsty. I need a drink!” Tears filled our eyes, as we rushed to the sink. Weaker she got, as the days went by, All we could do, was stand there and cry.

“Doctor, what’s happening? Why is she weak? Even the dimple, disappeared from her cheek!” “Rush her to the hospital, something is wrong,” The thirty mile trip, didn’t take long.

Doctors and nurses, all over the place, Noticed a death look, on her face. Down on our knees, we began to pray, “Lord, bring back our baby, this very day!”

Please leave the room, the nurse did exclaim, She noticed our faces, and saw our pain. “We can’t leave her now, she is our heart! God, why our baby? Don’t let us part!”

The lab report came back, it wasn’t good news, Why this was happening, we didn’t have clues. She’s severely dehydrated, and now has diabetes; We need to stay strong, we can’t let this beat us.

Intensive care, was the next step for her, Our minds were slowly, becoming a blur. Our angel was standing, at the door of death, We asked God, “Would this be her last breath?”

Every day was hard, and seemed to get longer, When is Peggy, going to get stronger? Prayer after prayer, what is her fate? Lord God, Jesus, please don’t be late!

“We need a miracle, we know your are able,” It wasn’t right, for her to be on this table. Each day was long, and brought a new trial, We remembered how much, she loved to smile.

Five days later, her feet hit the floor, Mom and Dad, let out a roar. “Take me for a ride, in the little red wagon,” Our eyes cried so much, they were sagging.

Peggy would hear, the other kids cry, She never knew, nor understood why. “Listen, stop here!” her weak voice would say, We’ve got to do something, please can we pray?”

Everyone heard, of the prayers she would give, Perhaps this is why, God let her live? Everyone knew that her faith was strong, How could this innocent little girl be wrong?

“I don’t like diabetes, it’s really not fair!” “Why give me shots, don’t you care?” “I want to eat candy, but I can’t have none,” “Why do I have diabetes? It sure isn’t fun!”

“Highs and lows, what does this mean?” “Sticking my finger, seems awful mean!” Peggy was strong, she soon learned to cope, Growing up was hard, she never lost hope.

Now she is six, and speaks Spanish well, Diabetes a problem? No one could tell. Thank you Lord, for this gift from heaven, What’s she going to be like, when she’s eleven?