~day 22~ Laughing yourself silly

Last night I visited a friend and her family.  We sat around a dining room table and ate and laughed.  And then laughed some more.  I don't recall what it was, but I told a joke or a story or someone said something and my friend and I laughed so hard I snorted.  I don't do that very often.  I laugh a lot. I laugh wheezy breathy laughs.  I laugh loud guffaws.  I rarely snort.

Today a good friend got married.  Being older than her and still single combined with this being the first wedding since my dad died I really didn't know how I would handle it.  There were a couple of rough moments for me, but a lot of laughs too.  I sat next to a wonderful friend and her family and we chatted and laughed at little things through nearly the entire ceremony.  We laughed some more as we converted our auditorium type sanctuary into a reception hall.  We laughed while we at.  I laughed with a number of other friends while we were there.

Laughter is good medicine.  Laughter also says you still have hope in life.  If you can be amused by something then you're not too far gone.  If you can watch a sitcom and giggle or even just smile if that's where you're at in your journey, then you can be comforted that you still have some hope left in you.  I'm not going to lie, there have been a lot of days in my life where the hardness and heaviness far outweigh the laughter.  But I am better now than I was a year ago.  Watching my friend dance with her dad to a song written by a man who tragically lost a daughter to a wrong place, wrong time accident was tough, it was super hard.  Hearing her husband vow to be with her "through every loss" was hard.  I thought both times that I might have to simply leave the room and compose myself elsewhere.  But both of those instances are bookended with hearty, good, clean laughs.  Laughing myself silly gives me hope that the future is brighter than it may seem.

~day 7~ Laughing with family

My godmother is in town visiting my mom.  We went out to dinner last night and out for a friday fish fry tonite.  My sister and her beau came with.  Afterwards we went to Mom's and played cards. 6 handed euchre.  Lots of laughs were had.

We had a TON of laughs when we did our 2nd annual Hayride followed by our Minute to Win it family competition.  Yes we get teams of 2, yes we do actual minute to win it games, this year we had an actual trophy.

We laughed at each other trying to blow bubbles through a hoop, with what were likely the worlds worst bubbles. Ever. In the history of the planet.  We laughed at each other trying to knock over a 3 high stack of empty pop cans by shooting rubber bands at them.  We laughed at each other trying to thread an uncooked spaghetti noodle through the pop top of an empty pop can so our partner could grab the other end and carry it to the other end of the table .... by holding the noodle in our mouth!  That doesn't count any of the shenanigans that were had on the actual hayride.  The least of those shenanigans was that about half of our family went up into some field to potty halfway through.

I think most of us had moments where we missed Dad.  I noticed it tonite because we were an even number of people because I'm still single and didn't have a +1 to bring with.  I remembered a few times this week that Dad and I played a game of euchre with his 2 brothers just a week before he died.  We won.  And even in the midst of that game it occurred to me that it might be the last card game I play with my dad, that it might be dad's last game ever.  I remember that.  I can take the comfort in knowing that I had that.  I think most of our family took as many of those "small" moments as we could after we knew dad's cancer was essentially terminal.  Family and long-unseen friends showed up just to see Dad.  I am certain not one of them regretted the drive or the expense of gas or the time spent.  I'd wager that none of them regret seeing my Dad looking the way he did at the end.  He wasn't terribly awful looking, but he was certainly not himself. 

There is hope in knowing we can laugh again.  We can smile again.  We can visit friends and be there for our other loved ones.  Others can be there for us.  There is most definitely hope in knowing that sharing your grief, letting others know your history, can release them to share theirs with you.  Maybe theirs isn't so easy or simple or straight-forward.  Maybe they didn't get that last card game. They didn't get to tell their loved one how much they loved them.  They do have regrets.  Or maybe they just aren't sure that being fine for weeks on end is "normal" and after weeks to be blindsided by something ridiculous or inconsequential and be reduced to a sobbing blubbering mess.  There is hope in knowing that God is and will use this to make you more like Christ and to help others become more like Christ.  Hope is laughter with loved ones.