I truly enjoy hosting friends and family in my home.  I don’t put on a fancy affair.  It’s just Silo Red Cups and Dixie Paper Plates in my home.  Depending on the amount in attendance, we attempt to sit the adults around our dining table.  On that table sit two clear plastic cubes with cards inside, TableTopics Originaland Tabletopics – What Would You Do Edition.  The cards inside have questions on them.  They have so many editions to choose from now.  I prefer the Original questions.  These questions always make for interesting table conversations when we’re hosting.

One of my favorite questions, since it’s the easiest for me to answer is, “What is your favorite noise?”  Laughter.  Laughter is the best noise I’ve ever heard.  There are a lot of beautiful noises in this world, but laughter really is delightfully infectious.  I especially love the laughter of children.  They’re so pure and joyful.  I can’t help but smile, no matter how down I am, when I hear laughter.

The morning my Mom passed away was an incredibly sacred and special moment.  There were many tears and heartache, but there was something I hadn’t expected.  There was laughter.  I laughed that morning.  I laughed more than seemed possible.  As I sat there with my brothers and our spouses, I laughed.  I didn’t find it irreverent either.  My Mom loved to laugh.  She found humor in unexpected places.  Whether it was a too-big-Christmas-tree, a garage sale gone bad, or a refrigerator stuck in a stairwell, she would laugh.  Perhaps that’s why it didn’t seem inappropriate to laugh at such a time.  She would have done the same with us.

“The only way to get through life is to laugh your way through it. You either have to laugh or cry. I prefer to laugh. Crying gives me a headache.”
– Marjorie Hinckley in Glimpses into the Life and Heart of Marjorie Pay Hinckley

She’s right, it does give me a headache.  Certainly, I’ve cried my fair share of tears in life.  However, I’d like to believe that I have met more moments with laughter than tears.

I was reminded again today of the joy of laughter.  I think it does more than just lighten a mood or brighten a day.  It gives a bit of hope to life.  The laughter on that mournful morning of my Mom’s passing was filled with hope.  A hope that it would all be okay.  We would be able to still find joy in a world that at that moment seemed so unfair.  Something I watched today confirmed that laughter is a symbol of hope in my eyes.

This past Saturday, we had a fire here in town.  You could see it from most anywhere you were in the city limits.  It was that bad.  Shortly after the flames were put out, we received an e-mail informing us that the home on fire was that of a family who attended our church.  The fire started in their living room and took the whole house up in flames with it.  Thankfully, nobody was hurt.

A family of five lived in the home; parents, two teenage daughters, and a young daughter.  The mom took footage of her first time walking through the house to evaluate the damage.  In the video, she walks through the charred remnants of the home and cries as she attempts to explain which “room” she is standing in.  It’s heart-wrenching.  Just before the video comes to an end, I heard something in the back.  It was laughter.  It was the laughter of a young girl.  Innocent laughter.  It brought me hope for the family.  I, obviously, have no idea the devastation this family must be feeling.  It pains me to even comprehend the possibility of losing all my pictures alone.  But then there is that laughter.  An unharmed little daughter is laughing.  There is hope.

I feel fortunate to live a life with laughter.  Sometimes it’s harder to find the humor in life’s setbacks.  When that’s the case, I like to turn to these little gems to brighten my day.  I giggle every single time.

The greatest noise is laughter.  Live a life filled with it!

Seriously, look at that face.  This is him looking up to me with desperation in his eyes for just a wee bit of milk.  As this is happening, I have this internal dialogue, “Should I give him some?  He just wants some milk.  It probably won’t make THAT much of a difference if he gets a little?  It will give him the comfort he wants.  No, it will only make matters worse.  Must not cave.  I am the adult.  I know what’s best.”

The latter thought is almost comical.  I couldn’t be more clueless.  My husband and I joke about how we thought our parents knew everything when we were kids.  We realized, if they are anything like we are now, they didn’t know much.  However, in this case, I think I may know more than my nearly 18-month old baby.  Milk and stomach bugs don’t play nice together.  I stood firm.

Thinking of this stomach bug and “forced milk fast,” I thought what I have thought many a time as a parent, “This may be awful for a little while, but in the long run I’m doing what’s best for you.”  Shots at the doctor are a perfect example of this conundrum.  I’m sure in my son’s mind, I am a big ol’ mean-o who doesn’t protect him from that woman with a needle.  He screams in pain and for what?  He doesn’t know that I potentially saved him from a life-threatening disease.  He just knows I didn’t protect him from the pain.

Are you seeing where this is headed?

How often are we the 18-month old who just wants milk?  The infant who doesn’t like shots?  The child who hates homework?  The teenager who feels alone?  The college student who is trying to balance school and work?  The broken-hearted?  The victim of a senseless circumstance?  The jobless?  The daughter without a Mom?

Whether you choose to continue the analogy and make my role as a parent similar to that of a Higher Being or not, the situation is the same.  We are meant to endure things that will ultimately lead to our betterment, if we let them.  Certainly we can make choices to avoid such pitfalls in the first place, but oftentimes things just happen.  Pain happens in every form.

I never dreamed of losing my Mom to Ovarian Cancer at such a young age.  While I do enjoy writing, there are no words to express the sorrow I felt, and continue to feel, with the loss of my Mom.  My Mom was intertwined in my daily life and was my best friend.  Her passing affected my life in ways that I never expected.  Those revelations are for another post on another day.

So, how is a toddler unknowingly fasting from milk similar to my grieving process of my Mom?  Both “tragedies” would ultimately be for our betterment.  Of course, it’s so hard to see that when you’re in the middle of it.  Maybe sometimes you don’t see the long term benefits.  I wonder though if we don’t see them because we choose not to see them?

Some good has come from my Mom’s passing.  It seems so shameful to say such a thing.  As if admitting that something positive was gained translates to me being glad my Mom passed away.  Certainly that is not the case.  I yearn for even a moment with my Mom everyday.  But if I choose to only see it as a tragedy with no lessons learned, then I fear I would be wasting my life and my potential to grow.

Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that but simply growth.  We are happy when we are growing. – William Butler Yeats

My desire is to grow.  To begin.  Fear is such a natural part of me.  Fear of trials has plagued me for years.  I don’t want to fear anymore, I want to grow.  Fear keeps you stagnant.  Faith keeps you moving.

When I think back on the darkest of times in my life, I truly get sick to my stomach.  There are feelings of sorrow and emptiness that I hope I never have to feel again.  However, those moments have taught me lessons that I could not have learned otherwise.  Even more, seeing those trials through and coming out on the other end has brought me a greater sense of hope.

While I am no doctor, I encourage you to ponder your current trials.  Think about what your “forced milk fast” is in your life right now.  As confusing and troubling as it feels in the moment, try to think of the long-term gain that will come from your perseverance in this situation.  Whether you have faith in a Higher Being ultimately knowing your every need, faith in yourself to grow, or both; try to see the silver lining amongst the tarnished circumstance you are facing at this time.

I’m happy to report that after a day and a half of my son not having his drink of choice, he is back to normal and happily drinking his milk again.  Remember the often used Persian proverb, “this too shall pass.”