Laughing With God

In my last post I referenced that the people I am surrounded by make me laugh. This is often true, but a better way to put it is that I am constantly surrounded by laughter. Sometimes it is positive laughter, but often it feels different.  So many moments have passed in which I have asked myself this question. Am I being laughed at, or laughed with? 

It is a distinction that is often completely undetectable. We laugh in all kinds of situations each day, but when my sensitivities are up, I can feel this small difference sinking in. Laughter brings me joy, and being laughed with brings me great happiness. Being laughed at is even okay when I am expecting it, which is normally when I am in the mood to make fun of myself or to just be silly. But sometimes, I am not at the mood to laugh at myself. Sometimes I get very serious about my intentions or my actions. I have noticed that my seriousness is triggered when I have put time, effort, and pride, into whatever I’m doing. When things that I have gotten serious about are laughed at, I find that I have a really hard time taking it. For example, last Friday during dance practice there were some older girls sitting in the back area of the Chapel. I went up to go say hello to one of the girls. Right as she heard me say “hello, how are you?” she had begun laughing at me. I get this reaction often, and it is generally a result of someone shy about their English speaking. I, however, knew this girl and knew that she was in my 7A English Medium class. So why was she laughing at me? Was it really that funny that I talked to her? I felt a little hurt. I felt like I had made an effort to communicate with her, and she had shut me down with her laughter. It felt a little bit like an “oh my gosh, the foreigner sounds so funny” reaction. 

            Another example would be during class time, during which I still have girls coming up to me in the middle of teaching and asking me my brother’s name and then laugh at his name when I say it. I also know this stems from the fact that “Curtis” is a difficult word for the students to say in English, mainly because it is really difficult to translate into a Malayalam pronunciation. Laughing at his name sparks a little sensitive part of me that is really missing my family right now. I know they are not laughing at him, but it feels like that some days, which makes my defenses automatically go up. These interruptions also really bother me because I put time into my lessons. I take teaching classes very seriously, even if I have planned some silliness into my classes.

            Last, but not least is an issue that is really stupid to even bring up. I knew that I was getting upset for no reason while it was happening, but it still triggered some strange twinge of defensiveness when it occurred. Okay, so I have to start by telling the story that on Saturday I went to the nearby town of Chingavanam to buy some costumes for the Christmas dance. I thought that I would also buy Madison’s Christmas present. One of the things I was looking for was powdered henna because in the powdered form it would ship easier to the US. I found it at the first shop! However, once I got it back to the hostel I found out that it was actually powdered Henna for hair. I was bummed, but decided it would be a fun chance for me to experiment with a random beauty product. On Sunday I made the whole package of Henna because the package instructions were very vague. They said something along the lines of “mix the appropriate amount of powder with water, let sit 20 minutes before use, leave in hair 30-40 minutes.”
What was the appropriate amount of powder? I had no idea, so I made it all. I only used a small portion on my very short hair, so there I was with newly reddish brown hair and a ton of extra henna. I was actually kind of proud that it had turned out so good. I thought it would be no big deal and asked the girls what I should do with the extra. They were appalled that I had used the whole packet. Deepa instructed me that everything about how I used the henna was incorrect. She told me step by step how I should have used it at least twice. This was all happening while everyone else was laughing, and this time it really felt like “at me”. This was apparently something I should have taken seriously enough to ask for help, but why did it matter? Why was it so funny that I screwed up?  I left the room to put the rest in the fridge. On my walk to the mess hall, I was in a bad state. I felt really, really stupid. But why? Why was I being so hard on myself about something I would have never known in the first place?

             

        This is not the first time I have struggled with taking myself too seriously. I think it stems from the fact that I am a natural leader, but also a naturally funny person. I have a strange illusion in my head that I can control the appropriate time to be funny and the appropriate time to be serious. This is completely a trick being played on me by my pride …..in other words, my ego. My ego is just as looming and large as my self-doubt, and that is why self-doubt is triggered when my ego is questioned. Being laughed at questions my ego, so I turn to feelings of inadequacy or hurt. My ego tells me that I am doing awesome at culturally adjusting. My ego says, “look at you, all culturally immersed and using Malayalam.” But when I am told by the world that I am still doing things wrong, that I am still too foreign to understand, I swing to the other side of the emotional spectrum. I go to the place of “Will I go an entire year without adjusting at all to this culture? Will I really remain this ignorant forever?” I am told this is part of this strange cycle we call culture shock. Ups and downs are normal, and a part of daily life here for me. I don’t just have down days and up days, sometimes I have down hours and up hours.

Here are some amazing UPS I have had this week. I feel like I should balance some of these stories of frustration with all the ways God is giving me grace through others.

1) Today 19 students did an AMAZING job performing our dance for the Christmas Program here at Buchanan. They wore little Santa hats that I wrote “Happy Christmas” on in glitter. It was so worth all the time and effort.

2) Being called up on to the stage during the Christmas program by the CREEPILY masked Santa Claus who only spoke to me in Malayalam. I successfully responded to all his questions in Malayalam in front of the whole school. It was a huge triumph. 

3) I received 2 packages this week, one from my Aunt MaryAnn and one from my Grandmother. The gifts were so meaningful and sweet….I ate the chocolate in almost one gulp. Haha. More than anything, I know how much thought, time and money it takes to send packages and I am so grateful for their effort. 

4) Watching White Christmas in my room all by myself and quietly singing along. It’s silly how much that movie means to me. It can always lift my spirits. There is just something about cheesy musical numbers and phenomenal dance scenes that really gets me going. 

5) Looking thorough magazines with the first years and laughing. They loved hearing my opinions on advertising and some of the differences between American and Indian Ads I could observe.

6) Long talks with Reema and Seenu, two Speechly College Students who live in the hostel and speak good English. 

7) Loving and encouraging text messages and phone calls from my family all week. 

8) The ability to SLEEP all day on Sunday and rest up for this crazy busy week. I skipped church for the first time since I’ve been in India….and I was kinda okay with it. 

       I keep reminding myself that the only way I will adjust is to change my attitude toward myself and others. I need to remember that the girl who was laughing at me was a girl that I had never spoken to in private even though I come to her class once a week. For all I know, her laughter may have been an expression of giddiness that I remembered her. I need to remember that the girls who are attempting to learn how to say my brother’s name simply haven’t been taught how. There is no reason to blame them for asking a thoughtful question. I need to remember that making that whole packet of Henna was pretty wasteful in the eyes of the girls. I need to remember that I am not stupid, but I am still clueless about many things. Someday I hope to be in a mental state in which I am blissfully clueless. This is a state that it seems that many people in India naturally maintain. Clueless about the transportation strikes until the day that they occur. Clueless about why everyone is sick, so the uncontrollable weather is to blame. Clueless about how many days a certain holiday will last. Clueless about where one will go after they finish college. I have encountered much of this blissful cluelessness, and I long to be able to adopt this attitude that lets go of control and allows the randomness of the world to go on. It seems to to be an honest way of dealing with the instability we encounter as human beings.

I am still a little unstable, but I am working hard to find my balance so that I may find my bliss. I may be both laughed at, and laughed with, but that is out of my control. It helps me to know that no matter what, I will be laughing with God.

 

“The world tells you many lies about who you are, and you simply have to be realistic enough to remind yourself of this. Every time you are feeling hurt, offended or rejected, you have to dare to say to yourself: “These feelings, strong as they may be, are not telling me the truth about myself. The truth, even though I cannot feel it right now, is that I am the chosen child of God, precious in God’s eyes, called the Beloved from all eternity, and held safe in an everlasting embrace.” – from The Life Of The Beloved by Henri J.M. Nouwen