I seem to have lost my sense of humor. Can you please help me find it? It seems to happen, once a week, towards the week – end, typically Thursday nightish-Friday afternoon where I just feel done. Done with it all. I’d be good for about a 36 hour time out. But when does that ever happen? (Never.)
You know what? Out of all that fancy, hyfalootin’ activity of the Proverbs 31 chic, the part I like the best is that she can laugh at the days to come. Sure, she does a lot, but more so than the accomplishments, I like to think about how she probably paused from time to time, amidst the flurry of it all, and smiled, chuckled, maybe she all out belly laughed. The peaks and valleys didn’t rattle her, her foundation secure, her lips could relaxingly curl up in a smile formation.
Losing my sense of humor seems to follow my fleeting moments of martyrdom – or shall I say false martyrdom? True martyrs lay it all out on the line, risking their very lives. I lay out my energy, my convenience, my momentary comfort, which works fine Monday – Wednesday. Come Thursday, the little voice inside flirts with tantrum-esque behavior. Come Friday, suddenly the multi-tasking I have gracefully and graciously performed all week, the juggling act of work, home, kids, friendships all seems too much and I want to scream “why do I have to do EVERYTHING myself?”
Except no one has really asked me to do it all myself. No One but my own dang self. Laughter is great medicine. There have been a couple of times, in the office, recently, where I have been tempted to just lose it. (And not in a good, “let my life reflect the wonderfulness of Christ” way). But I haven’t. I’ve remembered that this too shall pass, and I have thought of or shared something funny, and then enjoyed a different reaction: the unique sound of an office-full relaxed and laughing.