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January-March, 2009

The Girl Who Loved to Laugh

by Rev. Barbara Caldwell

Once upon a time there was a little girl who loved to laugh. She would laugh from pure joy at the butterflies, the leaves rustling in the trees, the milk pouring on to her cereal, the hugs from her parents and pretty much everything else that crossed her daily path. Her laughter was like angels’ voices singing praises. People felt warm and fuzzy when they heard her, even though they didn’t really put it together that their good feelings came from her joy.

So great was her delight in the physical world that the little girl did not know about sadness and anger.

I bet you think this is going to turn into a story of pain and sadness and struggle, but no. The little girl went to school and she laughed her joy when she played with the others in the sand box, when she coloured a picture, when the teacher read stories. Her sweet gentle laughter lightened the day for the teacher. In her teen years she delighted in all the activities of teens — applying unneeded makeup, completing a test in math class, reading teen magazines, babysitting, teasing the boys.

After graduation she worked at the local stationery store. She loved organizing the shelves and making displays and watering the big plant at the front window. When she handed customers their purchases, she smiled into their eyes, touching a soft warm place deep within their beings.

She married. For the fifty four years they were together her husband’s heart did somersaults every time she smiled and laughed. Lucky for him, hearts don’t wear out from happiness because his somersaulted at least ten times a day.

No child on the face of the earth has been raised with as much delight as her four. Her joy and happiness did not fade as her children grew from infants, to toddlers, to school children, to teens, to adults and parents in their own right. They never really understood how blessed they were.

The husband, the children and grandchildren and all who knew her did not feel sad at her passing. They all ended their days with a quiet contentedness at having been in her presence not realizing this was not the normal process of grief most people experience.

If you could look down on earth and see her seventy-four years, you would see a radar trail of rainbow-coloured lights sparkling around your town. And if you happen to touch on one of those places of light and laughter she left behind, look up. You will hear the angels’ voices singing praises for you.

© 2009, Pathways of Light. https://www.pathwaysoflight.org
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