On Laughter and the Time My Father Fell Into a Grave

One of the things I’ve enjoyed most over the past few weeks is watching the ways in which people’s senses of humor have responded to the sudden challenges they face being quarantined, working from home, helping their children with online learning… There’s some really funny stuff out there, folks!

Some may argue that this light-heartedness during such immense suffering is a sign or our shallow flippancy and desperation for distraction- refusal to quiet ourselves in somber reflection and self-examination. I won’t try to argue that we are not all guilty of this to varying degrees. I suspect I am more guilty of this than most over the past few weeks. But I also still hold that laughter done well is a celebration of life. It is our refusal to concede to despair.

“Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face.”

Victor Hugo

forty-one ten

After last week’s post On Faux Pas and Grace I received several requests to tell the story of the time my father fell into a grave.

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Author: Rebekah Durham

Rebekah Durham lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her three children.  She is a graduate of Columbia Theological Seminary and has written for numerous publications. She is an avid reader and in particular an admirer of C.S. Lewis, Thomas Merton, G.K. Chesterton, Henri Nouwen, and Dorothy L. Sayers (in no certain order). She'd also blindly follow Miss Marple (Agatha Christie's famous spinster sleuth) anywhere she wanted to go.

One thought on “On Laughter and the Time My Father Fell Into a Grave”

  1. Humor and faith keep us going; humor is equally imperative to “praying and believing God will act on our behalf)–we can’t survive intact if we simply grind ourselves down in the dire negativity of daily, obsessive reports. Blessings to you and your loved ones ❤

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