Across the world in Chalacuane, Mozambique, an act of God has occurred. The only signs of local life are a few abandoned cows stuck on tiny squares of mud. Starvation stares them in the face. An estimated 250,000 people are victims of this flood, and they have lost everything they own. Of the cattle, an estimated 80% are either dead or dying. The death toll so far is 350, but many people are unaccounted for. As in any such disaster, epidemics loom on the horizon, their arrows of malaria and cholera poised and ready to fly. How can we turn our heads away so easily from the misery and suffering in the world? How can our little troupe laugh and enjoy its time in Frontier or Fantasy Land when people scramble up trees in Mozambique to escape floodwaters and to wait for rescuing helicopters? The answer is, we have to in order to emotionally survive. The world of suffering is more than any of us can handle alone. Human misery visits every country, county, borough, barrio, every project and hovel, desert, city, village, and township. People are starving, abused, neglected, forlorn, destitute, sick, and dying everywhere. Suffering accompanies every human being in the slide from mother’s womb into the world of suffering. We must take reprieves from both the personal experience of suffering and from our position as witness. Respite care hospice volunteers like myself spend hours and hours every week in the homes of the dying, sitting and assisting in the care of patients in all stages of their illnesses, and with the patient’s family and friends in all stages of their bereavement. It is serious business most of the time, yet to remain sane we find ways to laugh at conditions, to joke and giggle at our powerlessness. We each have the natural ability to find humor in the absurd, and this knack keeps us from jumping off the edge of the world. Keeping things in perspective is a great gift. We understand that the sun gloriously rises even on the most tragic of days. After sitting for hours at the bedsides of the dying, we often go home and out for an evening of basketball, a movie, or a nice dinner. Who can live and breathe suffering day in and day out? Everyone needs respite from the realities of life, a momentary escape. I try to remember that the world does not stop revolving just because one of my brothers or sisters is dying. One evening after my dear friend Mary Ellen had succumbed to lymphoma, another friend, Mary, accompanied me to view her body at the funeral home. We’d driven in silence, each involved in pleasant reveries of Mary Ellen. Our hearts were heavy, sad. As we entered the viewing room, we held one another’s hand: a call of strength, a partnering in grief. Slowly, we walked over to the casket and peered in. We were ready to say our last goodbyes, ready to kiss the Earth suit of our friend for the last time. But something was wrong. "Mary, look at her!" I said in alarm. "Look at her face! She looks ridiculous!" "My God, her nose is bent sideways. It’s not even centered!" Mary said. "How did that happen? She looked fine after we fixed her hair and makeup yesterday," I said. Then we both looked up at the same moment, and when our eyes met we burst out laughing. "Phyllis has been up here kissing her again," Mary said. Phyllis is Mary Ellen’s mother, and we knew the difficulty she was having. But looking at Melly’s nose, bent from too many kisses, was more than enough to break our sober facades. We righted her nose, but I doubt that Mary Ellen was grateful for our intervention. I’ll bet she couldn’t care less. For Mary and me, though, it provided a much-needed outlet. Laughter is a great tension reliever. The journey of spiritual advancement is one of constancy. Many of us, as part of our 12-step recovery program, know the importance of offering our time in service work, meditating, and staying "prayed up." We forget, though, that sometimes a good deed or service comes in the form of a self-gift — one that may be a reprieve from the very work we are called to do. Loving God and loving our neighbor as ourselves is easy for those of us engaged in helping, but when it comes to loving ourselves, laughter and reprieve are also important. We may not be able to heal the world single-handedly, but our example may recruit others to join the cause. It is important that we set boundaries and that we take good care of ourselves as part of that modeling. David and I climb up the narrow, winding stairs of Tarzan’s tree house. Down below, we see Hannah swinging from one of the vines, giggling for the camera as she monkey-climbs to the top. Later we scream in unison as our Splash Mountain train car drops off the manmade waterfall at a 45-degree angle. Hannah cries and hides her eyes. At the bottom, she wipes away the tears and says, "Let’s do it again! Let’s do it again!" Next Friday, I start a new hospice assignment with a patient who is 95 years old and dying of congestive heart failure. Soon I’ll be volunteering with the homeless of Portland, Oregon’s ghetto too. But today is today, and I have a Mickey Mouse T-shirt to buy. |
Peter, Tracy, Morgan, Hannah, David, and I tramp through slushy puddles in front of the entrance to Cinderella’s castle. It looks as it does in Grimm’s Fairy Tales: pastel-colored turrets, drawbridge, flags flying. Our six-year-old godchild, Hannah, squeals. "Look, Mama, look!" She wiggles her hips as she walks and skips. Her tiny Nike tennis shoes weighted down with rainwater do not hinder her speed. She’s in Disneyland and hell-bent on finding Toon Town ASAP.