One of my favorite things to do as a mother is to share the stories that Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote. In her books she told about her families' adventures as pioneers journeying westward. I can't remember exactly how many books were in the "Little House" series, but I loved every one of them and so did my children. However, one of the books was difficult to read. That was The Long Winter. It was difficult because by the time we got to that book Laura and her family had become dear friends. The book paints a grim picture. It shows a desperate struggle for survival. The Long Winter spoke of the sickness that nearly took their lives and the winter they almost starved to death. Laura's family were pioneers. They were on a journey that held many adventures both good and bad.
In sharing Laura's stories I wanted to help my children begin to understand that their life in many ways was a journey, one on which they would encounter many adventures. I also wanted them to understand that some of these adventures would be difficult; very difficult. Because of the difficulty of the journey l wanted my children to understand and embrace two of the companions and gifts that God gives us to help us along the way, laughter and weeping.
Although laughter and weeping are gifts, not everybody wants them. These gifts are often misunderstood. Let me start with the gift of a laughter. At first glance you might say to me, "But, Sarah, everyone wants the gift of laughter!" Are you sure? Think about it for a minute. Some people have gone through such horrific things that the light has been extinguished from their eyes.
They are afraid that laughter would take away the dignity of the pain that they feel; that somehow it would cheapen the grief that they carry. They are afraid to laugh; they are afraid to experience joy.
In order to walk with laughter in the dark night of the soul, you must humble yourself; you must let go of believing that you are responsible to show to the world how great your pain is. Proverbs tells us that laughter is like a medicine.
Weeping, on the other hand, seems far more acceptable than laughter during times of great stress. Weeping seems to be the appropriate response to pain. Some become addicted to the taste of their own tears. They become prisoners in a seemingly never-ending cycle of crying in the night. Perhaps that is why some refuse to take the extended hand of weeping. They do not want to be one who is imprisoned by their tears. They want to be strong. And although their heart is broken, they will themselves to pull their shoulders back, walk with chest forward and head up. Oftentimes they use a little trick in hopes of keeping the flow from coming down their cheeks--they tilt their head up with their eyes open in an attempt to check the tears.
Weeping, like laughter, must be accessed through humility. Humility means to cast all your cares upon God, knowing that God cares about everything concerning you. God invites us to lay down our false strength. He invites us to give to Him what we were never meant to carry on our own. He invites us to find healing from the world that we encounter in this pilgrimage. He invites us to wash the wounds with the healing properties of salt water.
I call these travel companions--who God has given to walk along side of us during the most treacherous part of our journey--the twin sisters. One is to walk on each side of us, each holding one of our hands. Our Father tenderly watches over His children during this part of the journey.
One of the dangers that might be encountered is a loss of balance, and so He gave to walk on either side of us laughter and weeping . Some opt for laughter and others are more comfortable with weeping. But it is very important, in order to remain balanced, that we humbly embrace both laughter and weeping.
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