We brought some fun pajamas and slipper socks so she would be more comfortable in that hospital bed. I remember going around the store picking them out because we had to be sure the jammies opened in the front so the doctors could easily get to all of the tubes on her chest that were hooked up to those loud machines. Small conveniences and comforts in a scary situation.
She went in to see the doctor because of some pain and discomfort she was experiencing and had no idea that she would never be able to leave again. They told her it was leukemia and suddenly everything that I knew to be true and good in the world was turned upside down. She had months left. How could God let something this terrible happen to a thirteen-year-old girl who had done nothing but serve him well and love others?
That day when we as a family went to visit Brittany at the hospital was a totally new experience for me. I had only ever been to hospitals to welcome new babies. They were a joyful place to me. I had never walked into a room so unsure of what to expect but cherishing every second nonetheless. I can't remember everything that we talked about because now this was years and years ago (I was eleven), but I do remember one very important thing--we were laughing. Brittany sat there in her bed and we sat on the floor and in uncomfortable hospital chairs and we laughed. For hours, we laughed.
This young girl with a broken body and a full heart just talked and joked with us all day. It felt like everything was okay again for a moment. All of my sleepless nights crying out to a God I wasn't sure was even listening were lost as I watched her laugh until she cried. I distinctly remember a nurse coming in and asking us to quiet down and then she hung out for a few minutes once she got to know us and saw how much fun we were all having.
We hugged Brittany so tight when we said "see you later" and left in good spirits. I don't remember it as a depressing or sad day whatsoever. I remember laughing until my sides hurt.
Then it happened. At the end of school one day weeks later I got the news that she died.
I dropped to the ground and lost it.
It was sudden and wasn't supposed to happen. She was just getting some routine procedure done and something went terribly wrong and she was gone just like that.
I would never see her again.
The coming weeks were the worst ones my family has ever endured. Brittany was my sister's very best friend and now she was gone. How were we supposed to even begin to pick up these broken pieces? How were we supposed to trust that God was good and that he really did have a plan?
In recent circumstances I have been reminded of Brittany and her very short battle. I have remembered so intensely the pain I felt at the injustice of her death. But I have also remembered that day we laughed together for so long. In a time when all I had been doing was crying, I laughed. Hard. It was so refreshing.
I never expected to learn so much from such a terrible situation:
That it's okay to laugh and find relief in comedy even when things look bleak.
You are allowed to process situations however it is healthiest for you to do so.
You never have to feel guilty or apologize for laughing or crying. Or both.
That people who really are there for you will assist in healing your heartbreak the best that they know how, and they aren't prodding to annoy you--they are prodding because they love you.
Sometimes prayers don't get answered the way that I want them to, but that does not change the fact that God is faithful and good.
Joy does come. Sometimes it isn't in the way we expected or even wanted, but it does come.
Sometimes everything just sucks and you need to laugh until you cry because you just need to experience a new kind of tears.
Laughter might not technically heal physical wounds, but it still heals and is never to be stifled. I am who I am because I laugh with those who need to have their hearts healed, even if sometimes that's just me.
Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.
Psalm 30:5
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