by Amy Rasmussen (copyright, 2009)
“The longer I live, the less surprised I am by all the crap that flies around, and the better and better I get at ducking!” ~ Lily (protagonist of the novel I’m writing)
Frequently such thoughts cross my brain. I am usually sitting in my study alone when it happens, randomly, without connecting in any rational way to a previous thought about friends, family, ministry, fixing lunch or scheduling a repair for the furnace. Laughter busts through my mouth before I wonder whether or not an objective observer would call me nuts. According to my therapist, a questionable sense of humor might actually be a sign of mental health.
My mother is probably the queen of this obscure truth. Sometimes, I randomly laugh over the day she called to tell me she was on the way home from Sears after purchasing a car jack in a creative effort to pump my father back onto his feet after a fall from M.S. The brilliant idea, actually dreamed up by my sister Heather– another queen of this obscure truth– was to pump my father up, using a piece of plywood and a stack of phone books. Brilliant. My parents had become embarrassed that a 911 dispatcher and two precincts of the local fire department knew them on a first name basis. They had been alternating calls between the two precincts, politely spreading the burden around.
“You’ll never guess what just happened,” my mom chuckled. I knew her well enough to guess that something big—and probably painful—had occurred. “I just bought a car jack for your father!” She giggled.
Confused, I wondered, “Whatever for?” knowing that my father no longer drove the wheelchair accessible van that he had recently sold.
“The guy at Sears asked what sized truck my husband needed the jack for!”
Evidently, my mother had requested the largest automatic car jack on the market because my father had grown so large. She continued: “He asked what size truck the jack was for, and I told him that it wasn’t for a truck but for my husband!”
One probably has to be a member of our family to understand that we laughed until we thought our sides would break apart. For those who have not walked in our shoes, we understand how sick it seems. Generally, we keep such things to ourselves so as to not devastate others too much.
