Or time zone.
Or President.
You get the idea.
However, it’s often us woefully imperfect humans that have the most to share that could be of a helpful nature to others. Why? Because when we hit upon something right or good, it stands out like a lighthouse in the dark of night. We’re like, “Holy cats! I got this right! Let me tell you about it!”
One of the things this imperfect human “got right” was this: At some point along life’s highway, I decided that having (and keeping) a sense of humor is the secret to life. Okay, secret to life may be a little dramatic, but you can’t really fault me for that – I grew up watching Susan Lucci on All My Children. How could I not, at times, wax dramatic?
Someone else I grew up with was a father who was probably never serious for more than 10 minutes at a stretch. That’s undoubtedly where I got it from. That and an overwhelming obsession with birds, westerns, flowers, and coffee.
Cool genes.
In my Twitter bio (on my personal Twitter account, @JoiTaniaSigers), I even mention my refusal to take anything too seriously. That, of course does not imply that I am not serious when in the presence of things that are of a serious nature. Far from it. It simply means that a sense of humor is one of the two things I’ll always carry with me into any battle.
Even if the battle is an MRI and even if it’s God, Himself, I’m cracking jokes with.
When I was in my mid-twenties, my oldest daughter and I were in a bad wreck (it wasn’t remotely my fault, I just want to put that out there – so many vehicular mishaps ARE of my doing, I’m darn sure going to crow when one isn’t). I had to have an MRI – which is perfect, perfect, perfect HELL for someone who is claustrophobic. H-E-L-L. I was scared to death leading up to the MRI and I was scared to death as I was rolled into the narrow machine.
So, with eyes tightly shut, I prayed. And prayed. And prayed. (Prayer is the other thing I carry into battles.) At one point, I prayed for God to send a guardian angel to help calm my nerves so I could last for the full 30 minutes. Then I said, “No! Cancel that last order… there isn’t room for both of us! DO NOT send an angel in here.”
I immediately pictured God chuckling at my silliness and had to chuckle myself.
I lasted the 30 minutes.
Just last night, while making supper, I burned my left hand badly. No, let’s give it the respect it deserves – I burned it BADLY. I splashed a good deal of HOT bacon grease out of my iron skillet and onto the front of my left hand – and up a finger.
It hurt like crazy. It hurt like crazy when they put medication on my hand in the urgent care center and it hurt when they wrapped it. It hurt as I sat up in bed last night when I should’ve been sleeping. Kind of hard to sleep when the entire top surface of your hand and one finger are blistered up and burning like someone sat a match to a glove and stuck your hand in it.
It hurts like crazy now too – in fact, my left hand is hating me with a cruel hatred with each word I type. It’s like, “You’re doing this, why?? First you baptize me with hot bacon grease and now you’re putting me on a keyboard treadmill??”
A lot of pain and inconvenience involved – But, like the MRI, the bacon grease and the pain did not win. I won. Why? I found the humor in the situation.
That’s the thing about seeing things through clown glasses (whenever possible), you take full control of the situation – you snatch it right out of the enemy’s claws. This morning, as I sat looking at the bandaged hand and wondering when or if it would actually quit hurting, I realized that I needed to let my psyche and my family know that I was okay…. that’d I’d come out on top and had taken victory out of the enemy’s claws.
I found a stuffed girl bear, put some tape on her paw (her left paw, like mine), and took a picture. I sent it to my daughters and said, “Twinsies!”
Being goofy, being silly, being downright weird, and laughing – those are my weapons and this was my way of letting my girls know that I’d won.
Whatever you’re going through, I’m with you in spirit. I know bad situations are not funny – but I also know that if you can find any humor whatsoever, it will save you.
I am now going to give this poor hand a break and pour a tall glass of iced tea, sit in my favorite chair, watch Andy Griffith reruns – and pray the episode where the farmer’s barn burns down isn’t in the lineup.
~ Joi (“Joy”)
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