She laughs

I’ve been fighting a somewhat ongoing battle of discouragement lately.

Just got some stuff on my mind, most of which I can’t control, that I’m just waiting to shake out. Some of it I’m pretty sure will resolve in a matter of time. Other pieces will require no less than a miracle.

I scold myself for my lack of faith and try to double down with the good ole hustle/prayer combo. But without obvious progress on any front, it’s hard to stay hopeful.

I woke up early yesterday morning with Discouragement sitting on the edge of my bed staring at me. I stared back for a long time. And then I just got annoyed.

So I decided to bluff.

I got up and got moving. I grabbed the nearest pair of jeans and then opened my closet to pick out a T-shirt.

Anybody else try to match their clothes with their mood? I usually dress the way I feel. But not yesterday.

Instead of grabbing some blah, non-descript T-shirt, I rummaged around looking for something hopeful. I had also bluffed earlier that week so my ‘be courageous’ shirt had already been used.

I found my Proverbs 31 T-shirt, smiled and slipped it over my head.

Before you give up on this post, ladies, let me clear up something about the often-hated and terribly misunderstood Proverbs 31 woman.

We get beat up with her on Mother’s Day, in devotions, Bible studies, etc. We know, we know. She’s perfect. She gets up early. She works hard. She juggles everything. Her family adores and appreciates her. Blah, blah, blah. She’s this impossible standard we are supposed to meet, but never will.

Or so I thought.

As it turns out, Proverbs 31 was never a checklist of things we were supposed to be/do in order to be considered a godly woman. Her traits are definitely worthy of emulating, but not requirements.

Actually, Proverbs 31 was written as a blessing for a husband to speak over his wife. Lifting her up, praying for her, recognizing all she does for the family.

So we don’t have to hate her after all.

My Proverbs 31 shirt (which I got from FTGI, big fan, love them) is black with verse 25 written in beautiful silver script:

She laughs without fear of the future.

She laughs.

As I’ve said in previous posts, I don’t laugh near enough. Not that my life isn’t funny. (Oh my gosh, if my life were a reality show, I’d be cracking up at every episode.) It’s just that too often I’m not present enough to let the funny get all the way in before my brain moves on to the next thing:

The future.

It could be what needs to happen in the next five minutes or what needs to happen in the next five years. But I feel like I live much of my life in preparation mode, rather than in real time.

I had a therapist explain to me once, “Anxiety comes from trying to live in the future. Depression comes from trying to live in the past.”

My hand shot up. “I’ve got both of those!”

He smiled and continued. “Real life happens in the ‘now.’”

So simple. Yet so profound. This is why he makes the big bucks.

You know what else happens in the now? Laughter. Seriously, you can’t have a really good laugh with your mind simultaneously running ahead to what’s next.

For a genuine belly laugh, you have to stop what you’re doing and completely BE IN THE MOMENT. And oh my gosh, when I let myself do it, I always wonder why I don’t do it more often.

Let’s get real though. How can you NOT fear the future? My internal what-if tornado is on a hair trigger and before you can say “Klonapin,” I can be TOTALLY freaked out.

Remember the manna story in the Old Testament? Moses finally got the Hebrews out of Egypt and God gave them manna to eat. Every morning, it was there waiting for them. Some kind of waffery-cracker type thing, from what I understand. But God was very specific about how it was to be gathered.

They were only allowed to collect enough for that one day (with the exception of the day before the Sabbath). If they tried to gather more than they needed for that day, if they tried to store it up and hoard it for the future, it would rot and stink and be inedible (Exodus 16:4-5, 17-20).

God was teaching them the whole one-day-at-a-time principle and that is how He would provide for them: Whatever they needed that day. No more, no less.

How does that apply to us?

Well, if His mercies are new every morning (which they are, just like the manna) we can deduce that we can’t hoard His mercy either (Lamentations 3:22-23).

He’s not going to give me mercy/grace enough for five years from now. I’m not there, so God’s grace isn’t there. So why would I go there in my mind?

Also, IT’S not there. The future, I mean. It’s NOT REAL YET. And it may never be. It almost certainly will never be. So I’m freaking out about something that is completely imaginary. God is not going to bless that or give me grace enough to deal with something that doesn’t exist.

I can fear it all I want. But God’s not going to enable me in it.

So I may as well. Just. Laugh.

Of all the things that the Proverbs 31 woman is and does, this is the one I want the most.

Strong arms would be nice. Speaking wisdom is always good. Providing food for the fam is kind of expected.

But man, I want to laugh at the days to come, certain that some will be good. And I want to laugh at the good days behind me. And I want to laugh at today too.

Not in a flippant way. Not making light of something important. But laughing at life’s curveballs instead of getting all bent out of shape. Laughing at the stupid antics of my younger days, without the regret and guilt because I’ve been forgiven. Laughing at the days to come, fully expecting to live with a spirit of joy regardless of circumstances.

One of my favorite contemporary poems is called “A Brief for the Defense,” by Jack Gilbert.

Sorrow everywhere. Slaughter everywhere. If babies
are not starving someplace, they are starving
somewhere else. With flies in their nostrils.
But we enjoy our lives because that’s what God wants.
Otherwise the mornings before summer dawn would not
be made so fine. The Bengal tiger would not
be fashioned so miraculously well. The poor women
at the fountain are laughing together between
the suffering they have known and the awfulness
in their future, smiling and laughing while somebody
in the village is very sick. There is laughter
every day in the streets of Calcutta,
and the women laugh in the cages of Bombay.
If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction,
we lessen the importance of their deprivation.
We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,
but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world. To make injustice the only
measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.
If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,
we should give thanks that the end had magnitude.
We must admit there will be music despite everything.
We stand at the prow again of a small ship
anchored late at night in the tiny port
looking over to the sleeping island: the waterfront
is three shuttered cafes and one naked light burning.
To hear the faint sound of oars in the silence as a rowboat
comes slowly out and then goes back is truly worth
all the years of sorrow that are to come.

The women, the suffering women, are laughing. And if we don’t laugh with them, we dismiss their lot in life. We must risk
delight. And if all we ever do is focus on the bad news of the world, Satan takes a little more ground in our hearts.

Someday I will be run down by the locomotive of the Lord. And when I’m gone, I don’t want any of my beloved family or friends to remember how, “She worked. She prepared. She planned. She worried. She calendared. She obliged.”

I want them to remember, “She loved. She hugged. She sang. She celebrated. She shared. She worshiped. She invested. She lived.”

And,

“She laughed.”