Some days you can’t write about serious things. I think that there may be a grand chance that I think far more than any human being should, and more than not, my thinking usually results in serious things, serious thoughts, and ultimately, serious blogs. And I find it extraordinary when writers are talented enough to have a mix between gut wrenching seriousness and gut busting laughter. In Matthew Paul Turner’s book, “Hear No Evil”, at the beginning of one page I was crying and by the end I was laughing hysterically. (I remember this very well because I was sitting in art class and the girl sitting across from me has judged me ever since. She must think I’m bipolar or something.) I haven’t reached that medium yet and I’m not quite sure how I am supposed to either. I mean, sometimes I try to add some humor by throwing in a witty sentence only to realize later that I am the only who saw the wit in the whole situation. I often even doubt that I’m funny in the first place and I could be wrong here, but I’m almost positive that it’s impossible to make people laugh if you can’t make yourself laugh. I really don’t make myself laugh much. My friends do, so maybe I should try to emulate them? My friend Michael makes me laugh until I cry and my friend Andrew sometimes makes me double over. Maybe I should be more like them? Or maybe I shouldn’t be. If I’m suppose to be a good writer, I feel like Jesus will give me humor and wit like He so graciously blesses me with His fruit each day. I believe that if this whole writing thing is suppose to go anywhere, than maybe one day, I’ll be funny.
Today my heart is full. For the past month and a half I have started my journey to adulthood and I have already learned some incredible things. Believe me when I say that I have seen the serious side of life the past year or so but I do believe that one of the greatest things I have learned lately is how to laugh my head off with no shame. There’s something about being on a battlefield like college, where everything is so black and white, that makes you see with irrefutable clearness that Jesus and His disciples must have laughed like madmen. I don’t really know how to explain it but with everything that has been twirling about me, all of my heartbreak for the lost and for the world, I have for some reason found that dancing may very well be my best medicine for sorrow. It doesn’t make any sense and I am completely okay with that. I may not be funny yet, but at least I am learning to laugh.
The beauty of life is that we can laugh and dance just as much as we can mourn and weep. Maybe even sometimes at the same moment.
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