It’s good to laugh. Great even. It’s been said many times, “Laughter is good for the soul.”
I wonder sometimes if God laughs. The Bible is certainly not without frequent use of irony, whimsy, word-play and puns.
In the last week week of school, my eight year old son was involved in a poetry reading. Thirty friends and family were all packed into a classroom to hear their budding readers and actors share what they’d been learning.
After each student recited a poem, they surprised their teary-eyed, prouder-than-ever mom with a poem that was written specifically for them: “mother: kind, loving, beautiful, good cook, a great mom. My mother.”
This was very typical of the poems that were read to the adoring mothers.
When it was jrods turn, cameras were out, and he was ready. To be honest, I started welling up with pride. What amazing lyrics had he come up with to declare to this room full of mothers just how awesome of a mom he thinks I am? I couldn’t wait.
“Mother,” he began.
“Black hair. Lots of white teeth. Very sweaty. My mother.”
Yep. That’s my boy.
And I’m his sweaty mom. What else can a mother do but laugh. And laugh I did. Along with all the other kind, loving, beautiful, good cooking, (non -sweating), mothers in the room.
These are times when laughter comes more easily. But what about when trials which come knocking at the door? Is it appropriate to laugh in their face?
I remember my dad coming home from work one day while he was in the midst of treatment for liver cancer. I was home from college and was sitting at the kitchen table working on a paper when he came in elated.
I asked him what he was so happy about. He told me his story.
He had been pulled over by a cop for speeding. My dad racked his brain for every excuse he could think of to get out of it, and then, as the cop approached the car, it came to him:
“I pulled the cancer card! It was brilliant! Just told the cop that I had ‘chemo brain’ and he let me go without another word.”
I sat there in the kitchen laughing with my dad. I laughed hard. Especially at the absurdity of my pastor- dad who was so proud of himself for getting out of a ticket due to “chemo brain.” I mean seriously.
And yet, for just a few minutes, we had a moment of pure joy between the two of us in the midst of the drag days that were common as he fought this disease.
A couple of weeks ago, I met a couple at work who had this same view on life.
A beautiful woman was strolled back in a wheel chair, pushed by her husband. He laughed as he worked hard to get her up and onto the dental chair, which was clearly not easy for either of them. And she laughed at the fact that her legs were unable to help him at all.
Once he got his wife into the chair, he warned me to not tilt the chair the wrong way once he left the room. “Then she’d be your problem to get back up!” They both laughed. They were light hearted and open about her condition.
Before he walked out, he looked at her and said, “I love you.” And there was absolutely no doubt about that.
After twenty plus years of dealing with MS, and slowly experiencing the deterioration of her body, she said to me, “You have to laugh at this crazy disease.” She and her husband laugh together in the face of this tragedy. They laugh at the absurdity of facing challenges as a couple, as a mother, as a human being that so many others are free from.
She didn’t choose to tell me about all the difficulties, which were clearly plentiful. She instead told me that in the last four years as the disease began to affect her legs, she has been so thankful for her husband and her son. “Most men would leave a person like me.” Sadly, she is probably right.
Several minutes later, I watched her husband help her back into her chair. “Well, come on! Jump in.” They both laughed.
And I laughed with them, even through blurry eyes. I was so touched by his love for her.
And I was moved by their ability to laugh.
