And I can’t fight this feeling anymore…

…I’ve forgotten what I started fighting for.”

There are times when it’s easy to see the humor of any situation. I’ve gone through a lot of struggles in life (as we all do as humans) with death in the family, chronic pain, children with special needs, and tough times in ministry but there are usually things I can find to laugh at. You can bet that people in ministry have a warped sense of humor as they deal with many and difficult scenarios and survive by snickering at something that went wrong or just finding that silver lining of humor to smile at. I know that many other professions such as funeral directors, first responders, Police officers and hospital workers all have their own brand of humor that they have in common and regularly share a laugh over. You may find this offensive but it’s true. People survive difficult or even horrible things by being able to laugh about the things that happen in those lines of work or situations. It’s a coping mechanism that God has given to us. Now, I don’t necessarily share my funny take on so and so’s funeral with the bereaved family, but The Reverend and I can chuckle about it later. Laughter is good medicine. It says so in the Bible…so there!

In the past half of a year, the Reverend and I have had a hard time finding things to laugh about. Sure, our kids antics have sometimes filled a spot, but life has been just too painful to chuckle much and that’s been tough. I’ve wanted to write but I just can’t get past the serious heart-rending things that we’ve gone through. I don’t want to be depressing. We hold fast to our God and our faith, but the funny side of both of us is a shallow pool and life is not as funny as usual.

It is a weird place for me. I come from a long line of people who think potty humor is where it’s at. I laugh at the ridiculous and find that, for all the chronic pain in my body, laughter truly has been my good medicine.

That’s not to say that the joy inside of me isn’t there. It’s there alright. Joy is a different thing altogether. I know that the joy that is within me comes from the Holy Spirit and that HE is my strong tower. The joy in my soul is not dependent on the circumstances around me. In fact, I have sensed an even deeper shade of grace that has enveloped me in peace. I finally see what it is all about. I know that these situations aren’t about ME, though the talk “around town” is about us, it’s not really about us. It’s about the spiritual war going on around us. that’s fairly serious business and it’s got me on my knees a lot more often. These difficult times often cause a deeper well of God’s strength to open up and a faith that we hadn’t had before is now settling in.

This struggle has been one of the most difficult in recent memory. The Reverend and I are clinging to God and to each other. We enjoy our moments of mirth with a deeper richness. Together it is filling a place in our marriage and lives that need to be filled.

In my mind’s eye, I see the sun ( joy) rising in my belly with the rays of hope radiating throughout my body giving and pouring out my eyes as I look toward Jesus and see him afresh.

I can’t fight this feeling and I don’t want to. Laughter is fleeting (and amazing) but joy is long-lasting.

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You have a COOL mom!

Alberta Highway 16

Alberta Highway 16 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My son’s face fell when he heard the news that The Reverend was not able to drive he and his two friends to an event that night. I looked at him and said “You don’t think I’m cool?”  My son finds it hard to hide the truth. “Um, uh, well, oh, um….” He tried.

It was official, my eleven year old didn’t think I was cool.

“So, what you are saying is that your Dad is cooler than me?”

“Well….” Avoiding eye contact completely.

I asked for it really.

We were on our way back home when they started talking about barf. I have a fairly awesome sense of humour but there is only so much barf talk one mom can take. I told them “If you say the word barf one more time, I am going to stop and make you run around the van ten times!” They took this as some sort of personal challenge.

**Whisper, whisper…even more hushed whispers, giggle, giggle**

I stared at them in the rear-view mirror. I knew they were up to no good.

More whispers “blah, blah, blah…barf.” I heard it plainly. It’s like they wanted me to pull over.

I did. Safely…I promise!

Two of them were definitely involved so I said “Get out and do your laps!”

They tried to look shocked. I’ll give them that. More peals of laughter and two 11-year-old boys started running around the van. I eyeballed the third, who looked completely innocent. I am nobody’s fool though.

The third “innocent” friend laughed and counted. As the two started climbing back in the van their friend piped up “That was only eight laps!” The two backed out of the door and finished up an extra two laps. Suckers!

I am certain I heard them whisper to my son “You have such a cool mom!”

A look of horror, or was it admiration, passed across my son’s face as I put the van in Drive.

I hoped their parents thought I was cool too because I could have been in big doo doo.

To amuse myself

Snow Cat

Snow Cat (Photo credit: clickclique)

Snow falling gently on an October day elicited happy cries from the children. They clamoured, pausing only to search through closets and boxes for winter-wear, excited for the opportunity to roll about in the snow. Meanwhile, I was mentally transporting myself  to a tropical beach because in that moment I knew we were in for a doozy of a winter.

After forty-some years of living, and more than half of those on the prairies of Western Canada, I knew that when winter shows it’s face early it could be there to stay for a loooonnnngggg, long time. At least, it feels long. I was about to calculate how many months/years of my life total, I have lived with  the snow, but this is a blog that is focused on joy and laughter not depression and anger. I’m guessing it’s more than 2/3’s of my age. Humour is how we get through the endless winters, people! Humour and something else, but I can’t mention that “something else” here because I am married to a minister.

Like that would stop me! Ok, so this is where discretion comes in.

How quickly my attention gets diverted.

We did not expect this early white stuff because last winter had fooled us into thinking we didn’t actually live on the Prairies. Silly us! We’ve had the white stuff since October 15th, 2012 and I am ready to see green. Too bad it’s going to be a few months yet. I’m no Prairie Newbie, like the new gal that wore a spring jacket last May. Oh how I internally laughed! And shivered. She had a bluish tinge after a 2 block walk to school. I’m sure she was super cool when I gave her sage advice that she may want to wear long pants for a few more weeks.Brr. The sun may be deviously cheerful from the inside of the house but I have learned the hard way that you must look at the thermometer before taking a jaunt out-of-doors at any point of the year. It’s also a good idea to look out the window to see if the trees are moving at all. I would recommend testing with your finger, out of the door, just to make sure. Windchill can kill you! All those young moms, at baseball last spring, were eyeballing my armload of blankets and my crazy striped wool hat.

My motivation to start this blog was purely selfish. I needed an outlet so the deranged cabin-fever-type drivel would forever be floating about in cyber-space haunting the brains of nameless blog readers as opposed to my family,who is already deaf to my mutterings.

That being said, I thought of the title a few days before hitting publish on this new blog. I should have continued thinking for a few more days. I wanted it to communicate that I was the Irreverent one but it seems to me, and my very basic English and grammar skills, that it may indeed communicate that it is the Reverend that is Irreverent and I am just the Irreverent Reverend’s Wife. Oh how tricky it is! Do I need a comma? Do I need to change the order of the words?

How do I relate that I am not calling my husband names? I mean, he can definitely be hilarious, witty and sometimes disrespectful, but who wants to be known as chronically “irreverent”? Well, I do, but that’s besides the point.

Help me out here, my English savvy friends. I couldn’t find a free (because I’m cheap) program to help me with this little problem. Also, I’m too embarrassed to ask my professional editor friends. I will if I have to, though.