So . . . I have this really huge laugh.
It’s embarrassing – just ask my kids or my husband.
I love to laugh, I need to laugh,
but sometimes, I’m too inhibited to really let ‘er rip, you know?
When I’ve had too many days like that,
I need to find a child to be with.
Please bear in mind that I am not a ‘kid’ person.
I adore my children and their children.
And anybody’s baby is fair game, in my book.
But small kids?
I tend to smile benignly . . . from a distance.
When they get a little older,
I’m all in, fascinated by the conversations,
interested in what interests them,
delighted to know who they’re becoming.
And yet, I’ll say it again — it is the little ones
that I need to be with when I find I am
getting a little too full of myself,
or am a little too unwilling to play the fool.
Because the truth is this:
I AM a fool – in a very good way, I hope.
I’m not the fool that the book of Proverbs warns against,
the one who refuses to ‘fear the Lord.’
But I AM the fool who loves a good giggle,
who enjoys good jokes, good writing, good company.
Despite that truth, there are times when
I need to give myself permission to
really, truly LAUGH.
A few weeks ago, I went to Grandparent’s Day at our littlest girl’s school.
Dick had a meeting, so it was just Nana for this event,
which is a rare thing in and of itself.
Because my husband, you see, is a child’s dream come true.
He truly gets them,
he loves them, he volunteers to work
with Lilly’s class of 15 one full day each week.
The man is a saint, I tell you, a saint.
But this day, it was my turn.
And, my stars, did I have fun.
This girl — she knows how to have fun. Yes, she does.
All I had to do was be her shadow for a couple of hours,
and I felt better about myself, about the world, about life.
I even got on a swing, for the first time in years!
I didn’t stay on the swing for very long . . .
because, you know, there were all those adults around . . .
but I swung myself up and back a few times and leaned my head back,
and I laughed out loud.
I have written, and will write again in this very series,
about the need for lament, for tears, for letting
the fullness of our grief up to the surface and out.
But today, I want to encourage you to LAUGH.
To smile, giggle, chuckle, guffaw — to let the joy of life
seep through you and then leak out into the world
around you, wherever you may be.
Because laughter is good medicine,
it brings relief and release and joy.
Try it!! You’ll like it.