When God Laughs

As Dad finally settled into bed, I paused to pray.  It had been a particularly rough night, one of those nights when I had begun to wonder what God was thinking.  The prayer was not a particularly pious expression of faith.

Many nights Dad will chatter about his day, usually telling stories about things he imagined occurred, or people he needed to meet as soon as we could get him there.  Not this night.  This night he was dead-weight in the sling, arms and legs hanging limply, no words, no smiles, no mumbling of incoherent memories or plans, no movement.  He hung like a wet sweater on a drying rack.  But for the barely visible rise and fall of his chest, there were no signs of life.

The motorized aid gently lowered him onto the waiting bed and he gave an involuntary sigh as his muscles relaxed.  I released him from the the sling and pulled the blankets to his chin, now discolored by  pink juice that hadn't quite made it through his lips.  I flipped on the oxygen concentrator and as it began its familiar hum I wrapped the nasal cannula around his ears and under his nose, the last step in the bedtime routine.

I looked at this man lying there, nearly motionless, my wife's father.  He had spent his day sitting in a chair waiting to go to bed.  He had been fed by others, toileted by others, bathed by others, and now put to bed by others.  I had to ask God why.  Why is he still here?  Could there be any good purpose in keeping this life going?  What possible good could he gain from more of this life?  I prayed.  I argued with God.

Have you ever heard when God laughs?

It's usually not real audible but I'm sure he often chuckles, maybe just a little, right before he tells you something that should be obvious.  He often laughs at me, I think.  Not mean laughter, more like the knowing laugh a loved child gets from Daddy when he asks something silly.  This time he laughed pretty hardily and then said,

"He's not here for his sake!  If this was just about him, he wouldn't be here, living like this.  No way!  No, he's here for you.  He's here to teach you.  He's here to teach you how to love."


I thought about that for some time.  Of all the great work my father-in-law has done for the Lord over his many years of life, perhaps this one could be one of his grandest works; teaching his son-in-law what it means to love.

Each day I spend with Dad could very well be his last, and yet each day is another day of opportunity for me, an opportunity to learn to love.  I don't know how long a trip it will be.  I'm not altogether sure where we're going or if I can make it all the way there.  But for another day, we walk on together.