Laugh, Anyway

Poor Atlas.  He carries his burden with such sorrow. 

Look at him, straining every ounce of his being as he balances the weight of the world on his shoulders.  His task is so cumbersome, he can’t even look at his surroundings.  There could be an endless field of wildflowers at his feet, but their beauty would be lost on him.

Not so long ago, I was just like Atlas.  I carried thirty-one years of worries on my back.  I collected them the way my grandmother collected salt and pepper shakers: some I chose myself, others were given to me as gifts.  But still, they were mine, and I placed them dutifully between my shoulder blades.

Last fall, I carried my burdens with me on a little road trip.  I packed them into the car right along with my clothes, never having been a light traveler.  All through the first half of my trip, I turned my troubles over in my mind.  The “eleven” between my eyes burrowing deeper with every passing mile.

All my life, through times of happiness and bouts of depression, I searched for the secret to holding that weight without being crushed into the dirt.  And then, the sweetest little soul showed me how.

Maddie leaned toward me, her hands clapping onto mine.  I could hear her wheezing a little, getting through a cold, and yet… she laughed, anyway. 

Her bright and curious eyes found mine, and having the knowledge of all she’d been through in her little life, I was struck by the sheer joy she exuded.  She laughed, anyway.

This was no Atlas.  No, Madeline was stronger than Atlas ever dreamed of being.  It’s a shame he never met her, never learned that real strength doesn’t come from holding the weight of the world on your shoulders.

True strength comes from setting it free.

Seventeen months she lived on this Earth, and she knew the secret: to laugh, anyway.

  

Thank you, Madeline, for teaching me. 

And thank you, Heather and Mike, for sharing her joy with the world.  It will forever be a lighter place.