Laugh

Parkinson’s Disease is funny.

I mean, knee-slapping, ribs hurting, tears rolling down your cheeks hilarious.

It’s also terrifying. But what am I going to do? Hide? Let’s face it. I can’t outrun this monster. So instead I stop in my tracks, turn to face it, point my finger in its mealy face, and laugh.

Kurt Vonnegut said, “Laughs are exactly as honorable as tears. Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion, to the futility of thinking and striving anymore. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.”

I hate cleaning up messes, so I laugh.

Aren’t laughter and tears both responses to the incongruity of life? Melpomene and Thalia came from the same father. All of us stagger in a world where the equilibrium has been upset. You can pout about it, or you can smile.

Studies have shown that either reaction can help you cope with the situation. Laughter and crying release chemicals in your body to restore the equilibrium emotionally. But generally speaking, people don’t like hanging around someone who is throwing a 24-7 pity-party, so I laugh.

When I hear a knocking sound and look around, only to find it’s my wedding ring tapping the desk involuntarily, I have to chuckle. When someone suggests I deliver them a hot cup of coffee, it’s funny. When my friend, who is a schoolteacher, explains to his students at the beginning of the schoolyear that he’s shaking because of Parkinson’s and responds to their stunned faces by quipping dryly, “Don’t worry. It’s not contagious,” I crack up.

Make jokes. It’s fine.

Besides, I’m so much stronger now that I have Parkinson’s. I’m aware of the fragility of life, so I procrastinate less. I have so many wonderful friends whom I never would have met if I did not have this disease. I can feel the love around me so much more strongly. My friends. My family. My church. My kids. My wife.

With Paul I can say, “When I am weak, then I am strong.” Because of my illness, I lean on God more. My prayers have changed from babyish pleadings that ignore the piles of good things around my feet to prayers for strength, understanding, dependance, and endurance.

Also, I’m grateful. I’m grateful that I can still minister to a wonderful church, write sermons and stories, play with my kids, and enjoy every experience with a kind, beautiful, intelligent woman who laughs with me.

And she has the greatest laugh.

Sometimes I cry. I try not to, but it happens. There are a few pages in everyone’s story that are damp with tears. But good stories don’t end in tragedy. Evil doesn’t win in the end. That’s absurd. The night is not the end, just a preamble to dawn’s hopeful light.

I know the world’s messed up. I don’t take that lightly. We should do what we can to fix it. I just prefer to try to face my challenges wearing a smile. It eases the load I’m carrying, and I hope it lightens the burdens borne by my fellow travelers.

Life, as they say, is funny that way.