Ouch

Who moved the footstool?  Who put it in my way?  As if having sciatica wasn’t enough, I stubbed my toe.  Is it broken?  I do not know, but it sure is black and blue and it hurts!  Woe is me.  Woe is me.

There is one problem with my opening sentence.  I know who moved the footstool.  There are only two of us and … and … (big sigh) I am the one who moved that footstool.  And it is a big footstool.  It is not as if it can hide.  But (Funny how often we use the word “but.”) But my mind was on at least three things and the aforementioned footstool was, obviously, not one of them.  Turn around, move foot forward, and contact.

If you are laughing, it is okay.  Laughter is good for us.  As a matter of fact, a very good friend, Sharon, and I had lunch the other day and I am surprised they didn’t ask us to leave.  We got the giggles.  We laughed out loud.  Very loud.  We had tears.  All because I told two old stories.  But (there is that word again.) But aren’t the old stories sometimes the best?

Many, many moons ago, I left hubby in charge of the kids and off I went to a meeting.  When I came home, they all began speaking at once.  Kittens.  Yarn.  Fireplace.  Giggling and laughing.  Finally, I got them to slow down and tell me the story about the kittens.  Trying not to laugh and giggle, they began:

“The two kittens were playing and daddy had a bright idea,” one said.  The other picked up, “He tied their tails together with yarn.” Back to child one, “They were so fun to watch.  They were rolling on the floor and batting at the yarn….” Bill chimed in, “It was funny, until …”

“Until what?” I asked.  They all three said (as if they had rehearsed it), “Until the log fell in the fireplace.”  “And then?” I slowly asked.  Laughing and looking at each other, “And then the kittens ran in opposite directions with the yarn holding them back.  It was hilarious.  The yarn was pulled tight.  Dad used his knife to cut the yarn.  The kittens went flying!”

With that my friend, a cat lover, began to laugh.  Picturing this, she laughed harder.  If you tell a cat story, you have to tell a dog story.

The kids were older and we had a Saint Bernard: Priscilla.  Prissy was a neighborhood favorite with all the kids.  I would look out and there would be someone’s child, quietly petting our dog.  But the story I told Sharon was about the day I was working in the garden.  I could hear the kids laughing and they were in the basement.  I wasn’t sure what they were doing, but they sure were having fun.  Then the back door opened.

I heard, “Mom.  Mom.  Look!”  Five kids filed out the door with the Saint Bernard bring up the rear.  AND — are you ready?  AND the Saint Bernard was dressed in long johns.  Shirt on the front.  Pants on the back, with her tail sticking up through the fly.  And I laughed until the tears flowed.  I wished I had been there to watch them put their dad’s long johns on a very big, very patient dog.

By now, Sharon was literally leaning over in the seat.  The waiter looked our way.  Diners were wondering if they could move to other tables.  Tables away from two old ladies laughing so hard they had tears.

So I commend the enjoyment of life, because there is nothing better for a person under the sun than to eat and drink and be glad.  Then joy will accompany them in their toil all the days of the life God has given them under the sun.  Ecclesiastes 8:15

Laughter! Joy!  What a wonderful gift God has given us.  Today find joy.  Find something that makes you laugh until the tears roll down your cheeks.