Embracing the writing I’m called to do doesn’t always excite me. Sometimes, I’d just rather play another game of Scrabble with my husband. After years of disinterest in that game, he recently took a liking to it. Now, playing Scrabble is an evening habit for us.
He plays to enjoy himself. I play to win. Would it be possible for me to enjoy myself if I did not win the game? So far, I’ve been winning most of the games. To tell you the truth, it’s not as much fun as it used to be. I’d like to see him win more often.
It’s easy to think so, but he scored 57 points in his last play (we are in the middle of a game) and I’m re-thinking my desire for him to win more often. I’m not making this up. I simply decided I would like to post something less serious in my blog this week.
So as much as I’d like to philosophize, I’m sticking to my write-something- less-serious goal. I will just share a humorous poem. Well . . . it does have a bit of philosophizing, I suppose.
Laughter It’s really no fun to live with Depression; It’s really no fun to walk with Despair. I wish I could find a partner more cheerful; I wish I could find Laughter somewhere. Laughter will come if you invite her; Laughter will come if you open the door. Laughter's a child both wise and simple— To look in her eyes you must sit on the floor. Laughter is young but older than Fear. She doesn't read clocks but comes in a hurry. Trust is her guide and, though, she's imperfect, She sees in her mirror no reason for worry. If you want to know Laughter, you must change your position, Be prepared to look silly—people might stare. Yes, people might talk and people might leave; But when you’re with Laughter you really won't care. Jane Ault @ 1996