Community Post: As Long As We Can Laugh About It

There it was again. That playful smirk, the crooked grin, and that spirited look in those green eyes (the ones with unbelievably long lashes for a guy).

“Everything is not funny, you know,” I said.

Those six simple words, they sliced the air with a weighted dare—one to prove humor and play as out of place as snow in the Tennessee summertime.

Fearless, my husband Matt continued, “Honey, you’re just so cute when you’re upset like that.”

My defenses lowered. Was it really that big of a deal after all?

My husband insists life is funny. Even in the down times, he makes a way to laugh. I should’ve expected it. He’s a professional, an entertainer who performs comedy magic across the country.

Matt’s sense of humor has many times diffused an otherwise tense situation, uniting us in places we tend to be drawn apart, saying what we sometimes can’t in the moment: “I love you,” or “I forgive you.”

A hard-times girl, it was difficult for me to laugh before marrying Matt. They say folks forget how to play somewhere between the freedom of childhood and the responsibilities of being an adult. But the fallout of painful life experiences tempted my perspective even as a child—that celebration of laughter and uninhibited play long ago lost.

Over the years I nurtured the somber side of life, judging myself and others way too harshly, reluctant to let others close and unwilling to care as deeply as I could. A perpetual nerd, I chose isolating hobbies, reading and studying, only coming out long enough to serve others, because, well, that’s what we’re supposed to do. On those times I did play, it was more about who won, or how well I performed. I was never willing to grow or fail publicly.

Who has time for play when there’s so much to do, so many to reach?

Thankfully, I’ve learned a lot hanging around my funny-man husband. I’m so very glad this sense of humor, this ability to not just appreciate playfulness but to also make others laugh, it isn’t static. That we can consistently practice and improve this seeing the lighter side of life, appreciating it more as we learn to exercise it.

These days, I’m learning more how to play. Matt gifted me a bicycle this Christmas, one I’d talked about for months. I told myself (and him) it was for exercise, but come Christmas morning when I turned that corner and the teal-colored frame with the oversized saddle sat in the middle of my living room floor, I suddenly felt ten years old. And that same feeling surfaces each time I pedal that bike right into the wind, no hands on the handlebars sometimes even. (This stuff is not just for kids you know.)

“Angels can fly ‘cause they take themselves lightly.” ~ G.K. Chesterson

It’s these emotionally expensive lessons I’ve learned, how anxiety and stress and busy-ness cripple. But playfulness and laughter, they heal. Playing can become a cornerstone for these hard patches of life. We can harness the play and laughter, allowing them to trigger positive emotions and provide a needed break to help get us through the hard and heavy. Levity can bind folks together and sometimes even shift our perspective.

Through it all, I’ve learned how it’s okay to make mistakes. And it’s even okay to lose arguments now and then, as long as we can eventually laugh about it.

Jo Ann Fore is simply wild about words, God's grace, and her grandchildren. Passionate about women living full, free lives, she is the author of When A Woman Finds Her Voice: Overcoming Life's Hurts & Using Your Story to Make a Difference.

Play is not just for kids. If you are under pressure in your work, a spirit of play can lead to balance, creativity, and good health. In our hyper-productive world, we need to learn how to play again—at home, on the job, and even in worship. This article is part of our series The Work of Play. If someone you know needs to rediscover the joy of play, invite them to the conversation on The High Calling.