Thinking About Love and Inappropriate Laughter

If I had to describe myself in one sentence, it would be this: I love to laugh.

I always have. My mother described me as "giggly and wiggly." That hasn't changed in a million years. My children have replaced my parents as the ones reminding me to sit still in church, and I can't get through a visit to the movie theater without Darrin's hand ending up on my knee--not because it's irresistibly sexy, but because he's trying to remind me that I can wiggle when the movie is over.

I'm known for laughing at pretty much anything--even when I'm miserable. For many years it was my stress reliever as I was unable to tap into that crying thing most women do with ease. Unfortunately, I also laugh in some less than appropriate moments. I remember a rather uncomfortable YW lesson. The leader was telling a story which was supposed to make us all want to be grateful for the blessings of being sealed as families. The storyline, as I recall went something like this:
1. Mother of three young children contracts cancer.
2. Mother spends four months in useless chemotherapy and is finally told nothing more can be done,
3. Mother, Father, and children have a picnic on the hospital lawn. It's a lovely time, during which Mother is so happy for the temple blessings...and she knows it doesn't matter that she's dying because she will be with her family forever...
At which point I started laughing...a lot...and this conversation took place:

Unhappy YW Leader: Um, Sam? Which part of the story do you find so funny?

Me: Not funny--ridiculous. Seriously, if I was dying, I'd be at an amusement park with my family, riding every roller coaster I could find. Or maybe I'd go skydiving, or on a cruise to Hawaii. I definitely wouldn't be sitting on the lawn outside a stupid hospital, talking about how it's okay to die because we're a "forever family." It's not okay. It's never okay. If you're going to die, do something fun with the kids--you might not get another chance.

Unhappy YW Leader: Sam, some people believe being a forever family is more important that having exciting times together.

Me: Then they're stupid. If someone I loved was dying, we'd spend every moment of the rest of their life doing things together. And it wouldn't have to be thrill-seeking stuff. We could read books together, listen to music, talk about things, maybe just sit and hold onto each other. But we sure as heck wouldn't talk how it was okay to die because when we all die we'll be together again.

Unhappy YW Leader: Sam, I don't think you understand the point of the story.

Me: What is it?

Unhappy YW Leader: When we're sealed as a family, those ties go beyond death. We get to enjoy each other forever.

Me: I'm not sure I want to be with my family forever. Maybe my dad and my little brothers and sisters, but not my mom, for sure. I can't think of anything more like Hell.

Unhappy YW Leader: I know you don't get along with your mom right now, but things change as we get older. We learn how to love each other in better ways.

Me: Is that the point of the story?

Unhappy YW Leader: Uhhh...no. The point of the story is that we don't have to be afraid to die when we have our temple sealings in place.

Me: I'm not afraid to die anyway.

Unhappy YW Leader: Well, that's because you were born in the covenant.

Me: No, that's because I'm just not afraid to die.

Unhappy YW Leader: That's easy to say if you know you're not going to.

Me: Have you ever thought about dying? Have you ever stood at the top of a cliff, knowing you could jump and end everything that hurts in your life.

Unhappy YW Leader: Sam, I don't think you should say things like that in class.

Me: Nope. Probably not. Carry on then--the family sits on the grass with dying mom--everyone's happy because even though she's dying, in about 80 years they'll all be dead with her...

Unhappy YW Leader: Maybe we'll talk about something else.

I can't say that was my finest moment. But I often wonder, if the leader had been a bit more savvy, if she'd figured out that she was talking about death with a 13-year-old who was considering it often, if she'd understood that my laughing was a cry for help--the only one at my disposal--how my life might have been different. I often wonder if the bishop had understood 12-year-old Samantha when she said she was not morally clean, if he had truly understood how filthy the acts that had been forced upon her had been, if he had gone to the proper authorities and reported the abuses a young girl had told him about--how my life might have been different.

But--it's not different. And so, I am left with my delightfully warped sense of humor. I've learned to curb my tongue, to not point out the dreadfully misplaced sentiment when I see it used to force young girls to feel...something...anything...but it still bothers me. And honestly, if a loved one of mine were dying, we wouldn't be pondering the eternities. We'd be living every moment of the life left to them in the fullest. And my hope, in the end, would be that the person I loved would have no doubt that I loved them with all my soul...and that will last through this life...and the next...and into whatever comes after that.