Of Help and Humour

(This week's entry is meant to evoke laughter, not tears. If you read with sympathy, you have read it wrong.)

Elder Douglas Callister promises that if we consecrate ourselves to the Lord, we will overcome our Goliaths. Feeling rather Danielish in a world of frightful giants, I take this promise seriously. This week I saw the fulfillment of this promises in three senses.

First, a confession of my Goliath. Historically speaking, I take myself too seriously. I cry when teased; I miss the punch line of jokes because i am too intent on the moral of the story; I am devastated when things go wrong.

My current companion is teaching me to laugh. I was bewildered by her for the first four days. She was so...strange. But happy. And never stressed. And that stressed me out all the more, because I didn't understand her. After two weeks, I'm beginning to understand. We do headstands before bed. We set ridiculous key-indicators to keep our morale up when things go wrong. We laugh at everything that can be politely ridiculed.

God provided divine Help in the form of humour this week. and it was a prime week to apply the gift, because we experienced a series of unfortunate events.

Unfortunate Event Numero Uno:
Being Pegged in the Noggin by Ball

This normal. There's probably a scientific formula for it. "When Jenny and Moving Spherical Object Occupy the Same Space, the Spherical Object Will Indubitably Hit Jenny in the Face." So when the volleyball smacked me in the face during zone p-day, I wasn't surprised. What surprised me was my reaction to it: It was funny. Usually I look at it from my own victimized perspective, and I feel like an idiot. But I imagined what it must have looked like from anyone else's perspective in the room, and suddenly it was delightful! What a gift.

Unfortunate Event Numero Dos:
In Which Face Eats Carpet

This is also normal. Some people lose their cookies when their stomach gets upset. I don't particularly like vomiting, so my body has worked out an alternative system. To avoid the unpleasant uprising of food, I just pass out. And then I have a seizure. Kind of weird, but that's how I roll.

Imagine this pattern of passing out and seizing in the context of a teaching appointment. It is 9 pm. I am on exchanges with a young Hermana. We are in the home of a gracious Mexican couple, and they are feeding us fabulous food. Course one goes well. They bring out the seconds. I've already had dinner, but I muscle it down. Dessert comes out, and I know I'm out for the count. Next thing I  know, I'm lying on the floor and I can't move my body. There's a funky smell beneath my nose and someone is on the phone with the doctor.

I feel bad that I put my sweet young Herman in a sour position on her first exchange with her Sister Training Leader. And I feel worse that I broke the arm of the chair when I fell. But I couldn't help collapsing into peals of laughter whenever I thought of it (as soon as I could move my fingers and legs again). Delightful.

Unfortunate Event Numero Tres:
Unrequited & Thoroughly Awkward Love

This is NOT normal. Unrequited love is, of course, the only sort of love that occurs on a mission (other than the platonic, charitable sort, of course). We were thrilled when we tracted into a couple of young men who said that they were baptized Mormons. We texted back and forth for a few days trying to set up a time to teach them (in unabashed attempt to help them return to church). Our interactions came to a screeching halt when the following text rolled in:

"To be honest...I like Sister Stewart...your eyes...your innocence...your faith, your witz...but ya'all are missionaries...srry...feel bad."

AAAAAAgh! Sheer horror. But the text is now a beloved legacy and the punch line of all jokes. Comments about "my innocence" and "my witz" (nice spelling, smarty pants), and "my eyes" are the cheering words of our daily walk. What more could a person want?

And so I conclude this blog with a word of gratitude. I am beginning to suspect that our Heavenly Father has a keen sense of humour. And I think He'd like to let us in on the jokes if only we'll loosen up enough to listen to the punch lines with a smile rather than sarcasm.

"Be of good cheer..." D&C 68: 5

*In which the old English spelling is infinitely superior to the bland "humor" of modern verse.