Back in February 2011, I wrote a little line that has stuck with me ever since: “Keep laughing, it makes the devil mad.” Let me tell you how that saying came to be part of my lexicon.
The boys and I were down in New Orleans. The youngest two had appointments, so we loaded up the Suburban in Mandeville and headed across the causeway to NOLA. Somewhere out over the water, the Suburban decided it was done with power steering. (If you have never tried to steer a Suburban with no power steering, just picture arm day at the gym. On a bridge. Over a lake.) Sighs.
We took a cab to the appointment and had the Suburban towed to the repair shop. After the appointment, we took another cab to the repair shop. Now, here is the good part. Just a short walk from the shop was a sandwich shop, so we got muffulettas. Then we found a bakery and I bought a King Cake for the boys. They sat in that repair shop eating King Cake like it was a party while we waited. Honestly, it kind of was. It was close to Mardi Gras and Mardi Gras Season is party time in New Orleans!
Truck fixed, we headed out of NOLA… and the truck died on the causeway. Again. <laughter> I remember laughing that day. What else can you do? It makes the devil mad. If I remember correctly, with the stress of the day, I had forgotten to gas up after we left the repair shop. What a day! I remember the policeman coming up behind us speaking to me over the loudspeaker. Aye yi yi.
Fast forward to our recent backpacking adventures, and I have found plenty of chances to practice using this saying in my life. From work mishaps to sloshing in mud on the trail. The flies in Maine were horrible creatures that had me asking God, “Why did you create deer flies and how did they make the cut on the Ark!?” They have a purpose, I suppose. <laughter>
When we were in the 100-Mile Wilderness in Maine, the biting deer flies were SO bad. Here is the thing, though. They didn’t really go after Marty’s bald head. Nope. They wanted my hair. They kept trying to “nest” in it. At one point I took off running down the trail, waving my trekking poles over my head like a crazy woman, until I just burst out laughing. (I’m sure Daddy Longlegs enjoyed the show.) I ended up covering my hair with a buff (neck gaiter), and that helped a lot. When we got into camp one day, I set my camp chair up inside the tent just to get a break from the flies. I sat there and had to laugh at the sight of myself in the tent.
And then there was Rock Castle Gorge. If you missed it, I wrote about it in Adventures in Hiking: Lessons Learned on the Rock Castle Gorge Trail. On the way down, one misstep sent me sliding some 60 feet down the side of the mountain toward the ravine. I honestly thought I would never stop. No broken bones, thank goodness. Just shaking legs, a lot of bruises, and a sore back. Marty and our huskies, Ghost and Ammy, helped me back up. I crawled on my knees part of the way and grabbed the handle on Ghost’s harness to scramble back to the trail. And once I was back on my feet? I laughed. I’ve been lucky. My guardian angels were working overtime that day.
I really believe joy is a kind of faith. When I laugh in the middle of a mess, it’s my way of saying, “Lord, I trust You with this one.” The devil would love for us to sit down and cry on the side of the road. Or a on the side of a mountain! Laughing tells the devil that he doesn’t get to win.
So, if you are stuck on your own “causeway” right now, with a dead truck, the flies swarming, or your feet sliding out from under you, hang in there, friend! Find the muffuletta. Share the King Cake and throw a party. Put the chair in the tent if you have to! Keep laughing. It makes the devil mad!
