Laughter

Proverbs 17:22, "A merry heart does good like medicine."  

Pete is a deacon at my church.  At our church, our deacons, visit the sick, the hurting, the lonely.  They make friends with the friendless.  They pray for and with people.  They deal in meaningful touch and smiles.  They work hard and face difficult situations together.  And when they get together at their monthly meeting, they laugh hard too. 

That may sound strange but when you face such sadness together, laughter is essential. 

On the way to our last meeting, Pete asked me what seemed like a theoretical question, "How would you differentiate between "mild pain" and "moderate pain?" 

I answered the question, "Mild pain requires no medical attention."  "Moderate pain - to me - would make me want to speak to a professional." 

"Hmmm," he says. 

I wait - for certainly there will be a comment after the "hmmm."  To my surprise (why am I surprised is the real question?), there isn't a forthcoming comment. 

So I ask, "How would you differentiate between "mild pain" and "moderate pain?"  I get a short answer, "I find the two words to be synonymous." 

Again, I wait for a follow up comment.  15 years of marriage, I'm still waiting for a comment when one is not coming and I'm regularly surprised by the reality that he asks theoretical questions when to him, they are not theoretical.  I am surprised by Pete, all the time.  I'm surprised by how his brain works.  I'm surprised by why he cares about some things while not noticing others.  I am fascinated (see also dumb-founded) by his worldview and priorities.  I am surprised.  And if I can get past my ego in these conversations, I laugh at Pete a lot. 

By the time we walk into the meeting, Pete and I are laughing and arguing about the difference between mild and moderate pain combined with the difference between how his and my brain function.  I'm mildly irritated by the fact that he can't accept the premise of a question and simply adjust his thinking so as to answer said question.  Why do things have to be so hard?  Why can't we just have a normal conversation? 

And our relationships and current conversation sets the tone of the meeting - the definition of pain, how we disagree, our confusion, irritation, and laughter - It's the beginning of the meeting and we're already punchy.  It's gonna be a good night! 

A funny thing happened halfway through the meeting.  We're all sitting around the table, paper, pens, snack food.  Pete happens to be sitting on a chair without arms - and truth be told, I had noticed that he was slouching a bit more than normal.  But I'm trying not to micro-manage his life.  He's a big boy.  If he needs a different chair, he can ask. 

Halfway through the meeting, Pete falls off the chair. 

Yep, there he went, keeled over to the right.  His arms didn't flail.  His legs didn't look like they were trying to catch him either.  He just fell over.  (Of course by the next morning we realized that his core muscles just seemed to "disappear" on him - a problem with MS.  Impulses didn't get to his muscles; muscles weren't being told what to do.  In this case, the muscles jobs were to hold him upright in a sitting position.  Net result of this neurological failure:  fall over.) 

Immediately, everyone at the table (remember they're all deacons; they excel at caregiving) moves as if to run to the rescue.  But before their neurological impulses reach their legs to actually move, Pete says in the sternest voice possible, "Nobody get up." 

We all freeze, watching him as he moves to pick himself up.  We all wanted to respond in an appropriate way.  We were all concerned for him, perhaps even embarrassed for him.  But I don't think we were surprised.  

How were we not surprised by someone falling off a chair???

How do we get to a place with chronic illness that nothing surprises us?  Every day, every moment, every medication, every doctor's appointment - we simply don't know what to expect.  And if everything in life can become a surprise, is it possible that we aren't surprised by anything? 

Pete's response to this non-surprise?  "This is what I call "mild pain." 

Our response:  laughter. (Couldn't resist... turn up the volume and enjoy a laugh.)

Qualifying Events

The reason for my silence this past month is simple really... I've been hunting for God. 

Be very quiet... I'm hunting for God. 

Don't worry - it's not a discouraging search like one of those times where you're sure you've made the wrong choice in believing that there is a God.  I'm in no danger with this search.  It's not as if my faith is damaged beyond repair.  It's that my faith has changed and probably is still changing - just like I am still changing.  Therefore, hunting for God is a different exercise than it has been in the past.

My sister in law says that we all experience "qualifying events."  A qualifying event happens when you walk through a life experience and find yourself changed at the end of it.  You have learned, changed, grown, adjusted, and now you must get used to the world in your new clothes, with your new tools. 

As always one of my occupational hazards is that I travel through life with a lot of folks who are constantly walking through qualifying events.  And in the midst of their qualifying events, they too are "hunting for God." 

For example, this summer a member of my church was in a very serious car accident in which he walked away without a scratch.  Another member asks this question while shaking my hand after worship one Sunday, "Why is it that God saved him but doesn't save others?  I'm having a hard time understanding where God is and where God isn't."

Another member makes an appointment a week later to talk about yet another loss, "my girlfriend has cancer - it looks like they'll be able to take care of it with surgery but why this?  I've buried three husbands and two best friends to cancer.  What role does God play in this, if any?" 

There are other stories with similar questions.  Perhaps you have stories and questions too.

What is the role of God in this, if any? 

For the theologians out there, we're dabbling in the doctrine of the sovereignty of God.  For the rest of us, we're trying to answer the age old question, "where is God when it hurts?"  However you walk into these stories and questions, the answer is not simple.  If it is to you - and I don't mean this to be hurtful - you haven't considered it from its many angles yet.  God is not a simple concept.  God is bigger than we can imagine, stranger than we think and cosmically more creative than the human mind and/or heart can conceive.  And so trying to wrap our heads around where God is - or isn't - can't be consolidated into an answer that fits on a bumper sticker... but oh how folks have tried. 

And so here's where I am with the stories and questions... I've decided to hunt for awhile.  I've decided to look with intent, squint my eyes and imagine things a little distorted, turn my head to the side and wonder.  I've even decided to say, "I don't know" and be ok with it.  I'm on a hunt - and I'm not alone.  There are others (and maybe you're one) who find you ourselves with different clothes and different tools this side of a qualifying event and we're simply not used to our new selves quite yet.  And so hunting for God isn't like it used to be.  Hunting for God has more colors and more wild animals and less places to hide in last year's dogma.

Jeremiah says that we will find God when we seek God with our whole heart.

My sisters recently told me a story about their childhood.  Our parents live in NJ and TX and so we spent a lot of time on planes visiting for the summer.  My youngest sisters played a game in the airport so that they could find one another.  One would yell, "Marco" while they other responded, "Polo" until they found each other in the crowded airport.  At the time they were probably 3 1/2 feet tall.  They couldn't see over the crowds of people and they apparently weren't relying on the adults with them... they were going to search for themselves using their best idea - Marco/Polo.

I love the image of two tiny creatures ducking in and out of a sea of legs and luggage yelling, "Marco!"  I can hear the silence amidst the loud crowd as one listens intently for the magic word, "Polo!"  I can feel the joy as the Marcos got louder and the Polos met the Marcos.  Searching with all of their heart.  Hunting with the clothes and tools that they've got. 

I'm getting used to my new clothes and tools and I'm hunting for God. 

Be very quiet... I'm hunting for God.