Laughter is the Medicine

Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly

I’ve had many adventures in my life. Swimming with crocodiles in the Australian outback comes to mind (that was an accident – I didn’t know they were in there when I jumped). However the biggest adventure in both my life and my husband’s was raising six kids in eight years, including two sets of twins (that was an accident. I didn’t know they were in there when I jumped). 

When I was in the middle of that sea of chaos, writing became a lifeline for me. The kids would do and say something silly and I’d just write it down because something told me I’d forget that treasured moment. Sure enough, reading through those forgotten memories in my diaries has given me the seeds of each story I write.

Today I read something from 1995, when six kids aged 4 through 12 were decorating the walls of my life. I hope that this may inspire moms and dads to write their own silly stories in diaries for when, God willing, they like me become grandparents.

I write because I believe in laughter; that laughter springing from happiness which wells first in the silent heart, and then overflows in sound. And because its origin is the heart, there is always love where laughter is. I think there is a lot of laughter in heaven.

Laughter is a kind of medicine for the soul. When I feel I am losing it, getting frustrated with the kids, if I can only see some shred of humour in the situation, it is like a balm spread upon me. I can manage. I can manage. I can manage to laugh, to get above it and see it for what it really is- bits and pieces of life smooshed together – sometimes too close and fast, but pieces all the same, and smooshed by very loveable, and often very funny little folks. They are all little comedians in their own individual ways.”

Here are a few nuggets I’ve dug out of diaries from our time on the acreage in Canada:

Erica (age 5) donned her tights and leotard this morning and announced, “I’m going to give some chicken instruction.” Her outfit, she explained, was a chicken camouflage suit so she could infiltrate easily when she was feeding them.

And this, after watching Who Framed Roger Rabbit: upon scolding Otis, (age 4) for some misdemeanor and saying with some exasperation, “Go to your room, buddy” he stormed off, only to return, hands on hips and reply “Don’t call me buddy, Toots”.

I was driving the kids in the van when we happened to pass a taxi driven by a gentleman wearing a turban. Otis (age 5) glanced over once, then twice and yelled “Mom! There’s a genii driving that car!”

Write it down!

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