Searching for Laughter

I have a confession to make. 

I take Life Seriously.

Very. Very. Seriously. 

And I almost always have I think, though perhaps never more so than in the past few years. I'm a serious person by nature (6 on the Enneagram so always working to maintain control and navigate fear), but also by nurture and circumstance. 

As a child and an adolescent I was often teased for being shy, or more often for being grumpy. I was both, and yet neither. I was, and am, simply introverted. I love to talk (a lot!), but in new situations and large groups I tend to be somewhat withdrawn. Because I'm trying to figure out my new environment, I'm usually quiet, because I'm quiet, I'm often seen as aloof, or grumpy. Being told I'm grumpy, makes me...grumpy and thus I become even quieter. People who know me really well and spend time with me one-on-one know that I am often very loud and very ungrumpy. As a child I learned that being seen as serious or studious could become a laudable substitute for introversion. Scholars can get away with appearing grumpy at times. I also learned that being studious brought approval and awards, things I knew I would not be getting for my athleticism or striking good looks!

When I was 17 I graduated from high school and moved to Winnipeg to attend Scientific Marvel School of Hairstyling and Esthetics (quite a mouthful!). And I learned to laugh more there, but to become even more serious in other areas of my life in order to defend my decision to use my straight-A transcript to construct pin-curls, an endeavour I also learned to take very seriously!. More than once I was told that I was wasting my mind. 

For most of my childhood and adult life (until just recently) I was involved in Figure Skating. First as a skater (though not a good one) and then as a judge. Here again, I learned to laugh, but also to become more serious and FAR more critical. I often felt I had to defend my decision to spend so many hours at the rink simply because I loved the sport. Many of my peers could not see the point since it was clear I wasn't going to achieve greatness. Judging, as the term implies, brought with it a whole new realm of critical thinking. And seriousness became crucial as I tried desperately to find all the errors in skaters' programs and to judge with as much integrity and perfection on my part as I was expecting on theirs. Being several years younger than the other judges also led me to greater seriousness in order to prove to myself that I belonged in their company. 

Ministry with children, you would imagine, would be filled with laughter and humour. But in many ways I have often taken that too seriously as well. My undergrad and graduate studies instilled in me an incredibly critical eye so that I could guide others more effectively, taking care to help them avoid the pitfalls of bad theology, sloppy practice, and slippery ethics (so much more could be said here!). All good things, but for someone who already took things far too seriously a little levity and emphasis on the fact that all these things were not just up to me, would have been of great benefit. I also allowed my academic studies to reinforce my need to be studious in order to deal with my introversion, to receive approval and awards, and to defend my decision to abandon my career in hairstyling, to leave behind judging figure skating in favour of academics and ministry with no certainty of employment or financial security. 

My ministry with children has also been grounded in my own experiences of anxiety as a child, and the experiences of anxiety and depression of my younger sister. In many ways my calling to children is a calling to my sister and to all the young children in our middle-class congregations who are suffering in ways that are not always easily seen. This is a calling that I take very seriously. 

So I think I have, perhaps, come by my seriousness quiet honestly. But regardless of how I came by it, all this seriousness has made my life feel pretty heavy at times. I'm not very good at laughing and having fun. I have a hard time shutting down my hypercritical mind, or at least dialing it back a few notches. Even when I'm enjoying sewing, I can't help but consider the environmental impact that my project might have, or whether or not I am practicing good stewardship. I'm glad that I can look at a cell phone and ask good questions about what impact it, and other forms of technology, might have on my life and the lives of those around me (thanks Andy Brubacher Kaethler and Arthur Boers). I'm glad that I can look at story Bibles, media, and societal practices and identify where there are unjust gender and racial stereotypes being reinforced (thanks Gayle Gerber-Koontz), as well as for the many other areas in which I have learned to critically engage my world. Yet I find myself feeling a lack of joy. I find myself far from the laughter and humour that I often encounter in God when I pray. 

I have a sense that laughter is my work. That I have come to a point in my life where I might need to step back and trust that things will not fall apart if I stop analyzing them, and indeed they might come together in new and fuller ways if they are filled with more silliness. I have often seen myself as a rather silly person, but as my roommate Alicia has said, I usually only show that side of myself at home. So if you come across me in the next few months and find I am behaving rather oddly, then I invite you to join me. If you come across me being overly serious, I invite you to remind me that God created laughter and it is very good.