A child's laughter
There’s that same old wall, Lord, staring back at me as I look out this window. The gouges in the plaster look a bit like eyes—lifeless, soulless eyes. Nothing changes, does it; it’s the same old same old. I noticed that too the last time I was by that old grass-castle—12thcentury the sign said. It has that sense of deadness about it. Weeds, moss and a dankness that hangs over it like an atmosphere or a drape over a coffin.
I suppose humans are bound to go through periods of glumness—even if they only last for moments. Anyway, I was quietly slipping into one of those little dips when I heard my seven year-old neighbour across the street, Stuart, laughing his leg off. It’s the infectious kind. There must be something in this life to laugh about. Hmmm, now that I’ve lifted my eyes, I can see the sun up high through the drizzling rain. Wish they’d bottle that sound of his. Better still, wish they could produce really cheap holograms with appearance as well as sounds. Then again, maybe the fact that Christ is alive and well is a sufficient "glum-killer".
Still, it’s good of God to give us gigglin’, squawkin’, stomach-holdin’ laughin’ kids. Puts old cement, pock-marked walls in their place. Now that I think of it, it’s a bit like a barrel-organ in a fog.
©2004 Jim McGuiggan. All materials are free to be copied and used as long as money is not being made.
Many thanks to brother Ed Healy for allowing me to post from his website, the abiding word.com.