Laughter?
Who among us couldn't use a little more?
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| Ed Wynn |
One of my all-time favorite movie scenes involves Ed Wynn as Uncle Albert in Mary Poppins. Singing "I Love to Laugh," he literally lifted off the floor and floated to the ceiling, light with the freedom of laughter. Bert (Dick VanDyke) and Jane and Michael Banks caught Uncle Albert's infectious laughter and drifted up to join him, all of them laughing uncontrollably as they tumbled and twisted, free from gravity and earth's bonds.
The characters in Mary Poppins each had his or her own share of difficulty and heartache. Bert was a chimney sweep, Uncle Albert lived the humble life of the aged, and Jane and Michael's parents, over-committed to work and personal interests, remained uninvolved in the children's lives. But from the ceiling of that sitting room, they had a new perspective. And from those heights they laughed, the laugh of the unfettered, the released, the free.
The characters in Mary Poppins each had his or her own share of difficulty and heartache. Bert was a chimney sweep, Uncle Albert lived the humble life of the aged, and Jane and Michael's parents, over-committed to work and personal interests, remained uninvolved in the children's lives. But from the ceiling of that sitting room, they had a new perspective. And from those heights they laughed, the laugh of the unfettered, the released, the free.
In 2015 we need perspective and laughter. Not the laughter of scorn or derision. Not a laughter of fools. There's plenty of that afoot. We need the laughter of joy.
For what's to be seen from the heights of our sitting rooms? Lives filled with small miracles. Grace running rampant on mundane days. Love in unexpected corners. The presence of the Eternal. God working. Take a look around from up there. See the joy of the forever-loved, the never-left-alone.
Those thousand pound weights, that bind our spirits to the floor, even to the basement, even to the sewer, cling more tightly as we study them, contrive to escape them, work to release ourselves.
But feel the freedom, experience the loosening of the bonds, watch the chain weights of worry fall as our perspectives shift . . . to the God who says "cast all your care upon me." Lay each weight at the foot of the cross and slap your spiritual hands each time you try to pick it up. He will carry the burden. His love, His power, already proven on a cross.
Feel the weights fall off. Soar. Free. Up to the highest heights. Laughing the joy of the redeemed, the protected, the blessed, the forgiven, the loved.
Author Ann Voskamp calls this laughter "oxygenated grace." Author Anne Lamott calls it "carbonated holiness." Let's live high in 2015 on the oxygenated, carbonated joy of our freedom and position in Christ. And let's laugh.
It seemed like a dream, "too good to be true," writes the psalmist, "when God returned Zion's exiles, freed from their bonds (italics, my words). We laughed, we sang, we couldn't believe our good fortune . . . God was wonderful to us; we are one happy people." (The Message, Psalm 126:1-3)
Yes, in 2015 we could use a little more laughter in the world . . .
and, certainly, here on Layton.
Wonderful post, Jo Ann. I, for one, take life too seriously. Thanks for the reminder to look for the small miracles, the joy, the grace . . . all around us!
ReplyDeleteThanks for the word picture. I'm challenged to let the joy of my salvation be evident through laughter. Freedom is worn on the face of one who has known bondage.
ReplyDeleteCan't read this one without smiling big, Jo Ann. And I love this rendering of Psalm 126, because I am brought to my feet when I hear someone admit that what God does "seems to good to be true." Pow!
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