My brain function settled at about 30% over the Christmas period (hope you had a good 'un, by the way), as some of my friends may have gathered by the slightly crazed/delirious/wacky conversations mixed in with the normal-ish ones I usually conduct. Well, sort of usually. So apologies to those I've sent mad. Or madder. Sure no one'll notice the difference, though.
I know it's the New Year, and I really hate new years. I've just about got used to the change of digits, and a new lot to get used to is really too much to expect at the tail end of the Christmas season. I dislike change. And new terms. Shudder. It's impossible not to think of it as "The One Before The One When Everything Goes Mad". So as I sit here typing with loud music blasting into my eardrums, feeling vaguely queasy at the thought of the amount I have to cover, the essays I have to write, and a social life to fit in somewhere, I thought I should write about humour. Amusement. Wit in general. Or make a wild stab at it anyway. I don't doubt there are many others out there who can do a better job of it than I can.
Because, if we're honest, there are times when hilarity seems so far off. And I personally find that hard. Without wanting to sound like I'm a walking cliché straight off some trashy dating site, I love to laugh and have regular struggles with giggling at inappropriate moments, like at church or at something that isn't really that funny, but I just can't help it. I like to laugh to the point where I can't breathe and I've collapsed onto the floor. I suppose that happens on a fairly regularly basis, on reflection. I'm blessed with a family who are exceptionally funny. Some parents are not funny. At all. Not that they aren't nice, buy they're just not amusing people. My parents are funny. My sister has a razor sharp wit, and my brother has killer comic timing (and can do an impression of Gollum that sounds more like Gollum than Gollum). Sarcasm is used all the time, and witty banter flies back and forth. That's not even the start of it. They make me laugh every day.
But sometimes it's as if a massive bank of cloud has gathered and is threatening to dump its entire contents on one's head. Sometimes it's for no particular reason, other than the fact it's winter and dark and cold and horrible. Sometimes there is a reason. We might have been disappointed or be in pain. That's when it's hard to laugh. I have heard of other reasons for not laughing, however. Some people (I'm lowering my voice here for dramatic effect) actually seem to have no sense of humour at all. I can't get my head round that at all. It stuns me. How can people not laugh? Or even not want to? How can they be in the middle of a group of people who are all laughing, and instead of laughing with them, stand there with a face that looks as if they swallowed a box of frogs? Something about that jars with us (excluding those who have had the misfortune to ingest aforementioned amphibians). Fundamentally we know we are called to do two things: glorify God, and enjoy Him forever. Surely that enjoyment involved laughter. I'm absolutely convinced God has a sense of humour. I mean, look at Gideon. He was told to approach an enemy army with a frankly tiny force, yell, smash some pots, and wave lights around. I bet that was funny to watch. And peas. Peas are, in my opinion, the most ridiculous vegetable ever. They are almost impossible to eat with any semblance of elegance. Shovel them, and you're quite rightly likely to get looks. Try stabbing them, and you'll normally get three on the prongs of your fork, four tops, if you arrange them before moving in for the kill. My mother informs me one is meant to crush them on the back of the end of the fork (go figure). They are a joke. They sit on your plate looking smug. And I know what you're thinking, and yes, a pea can look smug. I have personally witnessed the smugness of peas. They all do it. God made the pea. I think it was a joke. Being omnipresent, He can see all the people who've ever looked silly eating peas, who are right now eating peas and looking silly, and who ever will eat peas and also look as silly as their pea-eating forebears.
So please. Laugh. Laugh at peas. Laugh to think we worship a God who made peas, and thank Him for it. Don't be that one person who thinks it's somehow more mature not to laugh. It isn't. I don't believe it's Biblical. It's also actually boring. No one likes to be boring, do they? Find someone amusing. Strike up a conversation with someone you know has a sense of humour. Laugh at their quips and jokes (that means a lot to people). Try some of your own. And just have fun!
