I've mentioned that when Mom was still alive we talked and talked but we also literally laughed ALL DAY LONG. We laughed even in the worst of situations. Often we laughed MORE in the worst of situations.
At one point we were both without a place to live at the same time.
Mom was going through a landlord dispute that started with a simple leaking faucet and kept stretching out from days to weeks and then to months. She was in her wheelchair full time by then and getting visibly sicker with each passing day.
My apartment roof had caved in and I had lost about 75% of my possessions. I was still recovering from my fall down the flight of stairs that smashed up the right side of my body from my foot to my cheek bone.
We took up residence together in a dumpy hotel room that actually had holes in the wall and the beds were so old that they no longer made sheets that fit them. But we loved, prayed and laughed our days and our fears away. And this God-given joy at the center of our lives drew many people to us. Mostly the staff members of this hotel. That's when we got the nickname, "The Rowdy Rahns ".
Sometimes people from the house-keeping staff delayed going home just to drop-in to ask if we "needed anything?" in the hope we'd invite them in for a while. Mom said to me one evening, "I've never been in a room so dirty that had so many maids in it."
Our "kitchenette" was a small 2-cup coffee maker that only produced luke warm water, but we purchased a plug-in kettle. We weren't actually allowed to have it but the policy was changed for us.
We were there for Christmas that year and a member of the staff found an "ancient" microwave oven and we worked a "surprise" conspiracy to get the microwave into the room so Mom would wake up on Christmas morning and it would just be there. And we were able to do it.
But at least once a day someone would say to me seriously, "If I was going through what you two are I wouldn't be laughing I'd be looking for a way to kill myself."
During these years without Mom, I've endured things I never even imagined I would have to go through. But I think what has really made them so awful is that I don't laugh anymore. I can still see the humor in things, but not to the point of actual laughter.
A couple of days ago I said to God, "You've proven you're always with me, you're faithful and good but it's been years without laughter. Years without an honest, gut laugh, And even though I know it's not the way it should be, it's been so long that by now I'm sure I'll never laugh out-loud again."
But never say "never" to God. He longs to do the "impossible" for us. In the past 2 days not only have I laughed out-loud, but I've done it more than once. This morning I actually laughed for several MINUTES!
From what I'm capable of seeing, nothing in my life has been improved or changed by Jesus ... except me.
But I wouldn't have expected the King of kings to come as a baby in a stable either.
Why do I wait so long to take things to the Lord when He loves me so much?
"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, ..." James 1:17a (NKJV Bible)
Sincerely, Laura-Lee
