To laugh in shadow of darkness
is its own source of light.
A home-hospice worker walked into my mother’s apartment one day for a routine check and found my mom and me laughing together. “Hold on to your ability to laugh,” she said, smiling. Then she sobered. “Those who lose their sense of humor have a harder time, no matter what the crisis. Aging included.”
One of my mother’s friends who later became a friend of mine tells about a day when that lesson hit home for her family. “Several years ago,” she said, “my mom and grandma went on a day outing with several ladies from their church. Grandma was using a cane to get around, with my mom by her side.
“On the sidewalk ahead of us was a hopscotch pattern outlined in chalk. Grandma dropped her cane and shuffled through the whole hopscotch pattern, then picked up her cane and went on her way.”
My friend said, “I think for a minute she became a little girl again. We could have scolded her, ‘You’ll break a hip!’ Instead we laughed. It was good medicine, just like the Bible says.”
Another friend, Valeri, still smiles over a story she often tells to illustrate her mother’s sense of humor. “In spite of having had the part of her brain necessary for normal hearing and vision removed because of cancer, Mom had full fields of vision and normal hearing. Physically, she could walk and talk and soon started driving her car again (against doctor’s orders, of course). She showed her surgeon that she could kick her legs as well as a cancan dancer, almost clipping his chin in her enthusiasm.
“‘You can’t take out just part of a Swede’s brain,’ Mother quipped. ‘You have to take all of it out and hide it!’”
Mixed-up or missing words and names, car keys stored in odd places, mismatched socks, the inability to locate the car in a parking lot (due in part to the fact that Dad took the bus that day) . . . if we can’t laugh about these incidents, we’ve missed the endorphins that help redeem those awkward moments.
Laughter is good medicine. When caring for our aging parents, letting them take the lead regarding humor may be key to maintaining the relationship. Parents laughed at will shrivel inside. But when laughter is mutual, shared, and comfortable for the parent, humor can serve as a face-saving grace.
A friend’s father’s aging process was accelerated by Parkinson’s disease. The father’s upbeat attitude set the tone for their family’s survival. “Well, son,” he said, “at least I don’t have to stir my coffee anymore.”
Undeveloped humor in either parent or child during younger years isn’t likely to begin to sparkle with age. But humor that’s grown tarnished from underuse can be polished to keep the aging process from becoming a rusty seriousness that drains the soul.
A close friend’s experience illustrates the curiosity of commingled heartache and humor as parents age.
“My mom’s been gone for eight years now,” Wendy said, “but before she moved in with us, she lived in a little house about five miles away. Technology was always a challenge since she grew up in the era when a phone plugged into the wall and the television operated by a simple on/off knob and offered a mere handful of channels.
“I used to phone her often,” my friend said, “just to keep in touch. I had been watching her grow somewhat frail as she moved into her eighties. It was always a blessing to share a quick call to see how she was and what she’d planned for her day. She’d often say, ‘I’m going to be working in the garden this afternoon.’ It became habitual for me to remind her to carry her portable phone so I could check in.
“One afternoon I couldn’t reach her. I knew it was a gardening afternoon, so I thought she may have put the phone down and was working on a bed across the yard. I kept calling, at first every fifteen minutes or so. Then, picturing a fall, sunstroke, or worse, I called more frequently. Finally I got into the car to drive over and check on her.
“There she was in the garden, happily working on her topiary. ‘Mom! Why didn’t you answer your phone?’ I had pictured a scenario that included an ambulance and the need to contact all my siblings.
“ ‘My phone’s right here. It never rang,’ Mom said. In her hand was the television remote.”
Wendy’s mother had the grace to laugh off the incident, amused rather than frustrated by her mistake. Wendy treated it lightly. Because they could see the humor in the moment, it became a sweet addition to a vibrant garden of memories.
Their attitude had to have softened the transition when mother had to leave her garden and her home and move in with her caring, thoughtful, I-promise-to-laugh-with-you daughter.
In proper doses, at prescribed times, and at the invitation of the parent, laughter can serve a healing, relationship-bolstering role as our parents age. Tucked among all the serious admonitions and life lessons in God’s Word is this one from Proverbs 17:22 (CEB): “A joyful heart helps healing, but a broken spirit dries up the bones.”
Ane said, “Mama was in the last stages of Alzheimer’s, and we’d flown to see her. I asked her if she liked my hair. She looked me in the eyes and said a flat, ‘No.’ I knew she had a moment of knowing exactly who I was.
“Mama hated it when I straightened my hair, and I had worn it straight that day. Her terse response was a gift from God. Three months later, she flew to heaven. While it may not sound tender to someone else, to me it was exactly what I needed.”
“From the sidelines,” Xochitl said, “I enjoyed my mom’s giggles as she walked beside her girlfriends. Her eyes sparked with a joy and mischief I had never taken the time to notice before.
“Though I stumbled through my new role as her caregiver, I thanked God for the gift of watching my mom interact with others. For the first time in my life I got to know Martha, a woman with an interesting history, hobbies, and pet peeves. I grew to appreciate her as a sister in Christ who, like me, enjoyed music, dancing, lunch with friends, and laughter.
“Once I stopped focusing on the role my mother played, or was supposed to play, in my life, I discovered the treasure of knowing her as person. Martha was a beautiful, creative, loving, kind, compassionate, funny, and loyal sister, friend, neighbor, daughter, teacher, and wife. This brave woman was so much more than a mom.”
In all our efforts to care for and encourage our aging parents, as we juggle prescription bottles and medical options and decision-making and safety features for their home, have we too often neglected the simple prescription of laughter? God calls it a healing remedy that is good, good medicine.
I wanted to keep you safe.
I forgot that laughter made you feel safe.
I wanted to keep you healthy.
I forgot that joy is better than adding
a medication.
I wanted you to feel comfortable.
But the pillow I bought did less than the
“Andy of Mayberry” rerun we shared.
I wanted to serve you, Mom and Dad.
You needed to tell your favorite joke. Again.
I wanted you to be happy.
The joy of the Lord is still our strength
(Nehemiah 8:10).