“I told myself a joke” My Dad, Ralph L. Patrick

“Sarah said, ‘God has brought me laughter, and everyone who hears about this will laugh with me’”. Genesis 18

Christmas is over.  Not officially, cuz it doesn’t end until Epiphany in three days.  But for all intents in purposes with the turning of the calendar, we bid farewell not only to the previous year, but also to the holiday season.  For as much as I anticipate and celebrate Christmas, I dread its departure just as much. Removing the decorations and displays, packing away gifts and taking down the Christmas tree; it’s all a bit of a downer for me.  As I remove the ornaments, I enjoy looking at them one last time and recalling the special significance each one has.  One of the most meaningful to me is the one with a picture of my dad imposed on a little sled.  In it dad is standing in the church kitchen, overseeing the preparations for the annual Easter breakfast. 

Dad wasn’t a real “churchy” person, basically he went to please my mom and set an example for his kids, but he did LOVE that Easter breakfast.  Peering at the picture is like being transported through a portal in time.  My thoughts move from the kitchen to the sanctuary, sitting in the pew with dad dispensing lifesavers candy to keep my quiet (remember those Lifesaver books that used to be so common at Christmas?).   And then my thoughts move elsewhere, remembering him hunting, fixing the morning fire in the furnace downstairs and making regular repairs on the cars he drove on his mail route.  And laughing.  Dad laughed.  A lot!

My father used to spontaneously burst out with laughter.  I’m trying to think how to describe it . . . Kind of a high-pitched exclamation and combination of a cough and sneeze.  He would laugh for any reason and no reason at all. When asked about why he would burst forth suddenly in laughter he would reply, “I told myself a joke”.  Wow!

Thinking about Dad and his laughter is a residual and unexpected Christmas gift for me. I would like to believe that laughter was his gift from God as well.  That in those moments of levity Dad was connecting with something in God—commonly called joy–that he inherently recognized and valued. In other words, my dad was practicing his faith in a way that was unique to him.  I’d like to believe that.

I have a painting in my quiet space of Jesus.  Not a common depiction of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane praying, nor Jesus placing children on His lap or carrying a lamb across His shoulders, nor one of Him being crucified;  It is a painting of Jesus smiling.  The kind of smile that hints at either a laugh to come or one that was just had.  That painting, along with some words I read from a book entitled “The Awakened Heart” on New Year’s Day, inspired my New Year resolution;  I’m going to laugh more.  Laugh more with God.  Laugh more at myself.  Laugh more in life.

As I look back on life I realize I haven’t laughed nearly enough, especially about, around, and with God.  I took God, and myself, far too seriously.  I thought it was a religious requirement to be sober and somber about the sacred.  Silence and proper behavior inside of church accompanied a very clear message of the expectations for appropriate actions outside of the sanctuary. This was accelerated in the seminary where teachings about the divine were dogmatic and most of the professors rather dour.  Those seminary years launched my far too puritanical pastoral career with among other elements, bible studies that provided a breeding ground for serious questions about the sacred.  Sometimes I would ask them, usually in an egotistical effort to appear erudite, sometimes they would be asked of me.  This God-stuff was no laughing matter, or so I thought.

I’m glad to say that I’ve left a lot of that overly pious persona and quest for nonsensical knowledge about God behind.  I now know how very little I actually know about God.  But there is one aspect of God that I’m absolutely convinced of:  God has a sense of humor! And for as much as God desires for me to laugh with Him, He desires to laugh with me, and with you.  

In retrospect I wish I had appreciated dad more.  He died at the age of 62—two years older than I am now.  I also wish I had taken a lesson from dad and laughed more.  I wish I had included in my daily spiritual practice spontaneously laughing.  Laughing at myself, with God and others for every and any reason, and for no reason at all. 

I’m curious; when was the last time you laughed? Really, really, laughed?  Belly laughed.  Laughed so hard you cried.  Laughed so hard that afterwards you were left feeling completely at ease with no worries in the world?   When was the last time you laughed with God?  When was the last time you laughed at yourself?  If it was recently, wonderful!  If you can’t remember the last time, well, then, I invite you to join me in making divine laughter part of your New Year resolution as well.