Laughter

September 20, 2018

All I said was, “They’re hot cross buns.” Across the room, my mother sat in her recliner shaking, tears running down her cheeks, choking down the laughter that rolled from her from her shoulders to her feet. Hardly any sound came out as she continued to be convulsed with amusement in spite of her best efforts to hold it in.

Later in the day, we sat having dinner with our granddaughter Abi. As I said the same words, behind her sweatshirt pulled up to her dancing eyes, a smile split her face from ear to ear. She too, tried unsuccessfully to hide her glee. “I can’t believe you said that,” she finally gasped out. 

If you can believe me, it was an innocent comment referring to Linda’s jeans which had big Xs embroidered on the seat pockets. We were celebrating mom’s 96th birthday with lots of love and laughter. I can’t prove it, but I suspect laughter is a pretty good gauge of love. It’s pretty hard to laugh when you aren’t loved. But where love abounds, laughter is a safe bet. From lunch to supper, we did a lot of it, my brother and sister in law, my sister, ourselves and my mother. Along the way on a more serious note, I learned for the first time that mom met dad when she was in ninth grade, beginning a romance that lasted for more than seventy years before dad passed away in 2012. As in any home, we had our share of tears, hurts, and disappointments. But we also laughed.

Some years ago in a conversation with our son Matthew, we asked what kept him from getting into some of the troubles seemingly inherent in teenagerhood. He wanted the school record in the backstroke, didn’t want to do anything that would hurt us, and “You laughed at the things we did.” Yes, we did. His and Nate’s antics were often borderline, but were almost always funny. 

When mom was 94, I once asked her how she felt. “Nothing hurts,” was her response. 

“Nothing at all?” I was incredulous.

She sat thoughtfully for a moment. “No, nothing.” The English is seventeenth century, but still speaks truth; “A merry heart doeth good like medicine.” (Proverbs 17:22). I believe it. Mom’s 96 years are good evidence of it, and I am thankful for all the yuk-yuks, belly laughs, chortles, and chuckles that have filled my life for so many years.