Oh so serious me
My funny family and me in my ironman coat
I’ve always wanted to be funny…but we don’t always get what we want. Thanksgiving, age thirteen, was the first time I realized how humorless I was. Sitting at the kids’ table with my cousins, I listened and laughed as each one took turns telling jokes…but I had nothing to say. I didn’t know one joke to tell other than: “How did the chicken cross the road?” Wait, I even got that wrong. I also lacked confidence, so was afraid to try being funny for fear that I’d be the only one laughing like a big goober. And this is with relatives—imagine how quiet I was in school!
I made up for my serious and sensitive soul by having funny friends and marrying a funny guy—hoping it would rub off or just opposites attract? Gene and I produced five funny kids. I’m sure funny is a dominant “gene.” Ha ha, get it? Or do I have to point out the pun? And I love writing—can edit forever until I almost sound funny or at least make myself laugh. And it’s okay. This is me, the me God made. He knows what He’s doing and can use me the way I am. Funny or not. So for anyone else who ever wished they were funnier, prettier, smarter, thinner, or more normal, accept who you are and you’ll find contentment.
“But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.” 1 Corinthians 1:27 Not that I want to lump myself into the foolish category, but the point is that God can use the imperfect to do His work and love people. What could be better?