My sisters and I received some sad news on Saturday. An older woman in our life, a spiritual mother, has an aggressive cancer. She has survived cancer twice already. We cried when we thought that maybe, just maybe, God has decided not to heal her this time.
We heard the news in the morning. For the rest of the day, we walked around the house, going about our normal life. But this time normal life was accompanied by tears.
As I passed all my sisters throughout the morning and saw their gloomy faces, I was impressed with a desire to say something that would make us laugh. I wanted to say something that would put a humorous spin on a sad situation.
When I was walking near my sister Lauren, I thought of Cheeto’s and thought, hey, that’s funny.So I said, “No more Cheeto’s.” (We always had Cheeto’s at this woman’s house).
Lauren didn’t hear me so I said it again, “No more Cheeto’s. We always have Cheeto’s at her house.”
Instantly after I said it, I realized that it wasn’t funny at all. Lauren and I began to sob and we hugged each other.
Through my blubbering I said, “I was trying to make us laugh.” Then we did laugh, because my attempt at making us laugh had had a completely different result.
When I told the other sisters the story later, we laughed—and cried—again. I think tears and laughter make a good pair.
The Blind Boy:
We had several children at our house this past week. One of those children, Colin, was blind. He had a cane and was using it as we played in the front yard. Eventually, he lost his cane. Colin’s brother, Nathan, was in charge of keeping an eye on him, so Nathan took off to look for Colin’s cane.
I stepped in to help by saying, “Okay everyone, let’s find Colin’s cane.” I then turned to Colin and inquired, “What color is it?”
He replied sweetly, “I don’t know.”
“Oh yeah,” I said. And was glad he couldn’t see my face.