Walking with Irony

...because it's everywhere. The recognition of it heightens enjoyment, lightens up reality, and deepens sorrows. It plays so many different roles. I remember walking home with the two babies a few months ago and seeing this man smoking in very close proximity of my path and was instantantly thinking, "Are you serious? You know this place is crawling with kids. You're gonna give us all heart failure." His look to me- and my screaming 2 year old- snapped me right back into reality and brought a smile to my face. The truth of the situation was Deeter and his screams were gonna give us all a heart attack way before his cigarettes ever had a chance.


This morning I woke up nauseous. I forced down a yogurt and made my way to my boxing class. I warned them I wasn't up to par. No, I wasn't pregnant, just nauseous. I stood side by side a 53-year-old mom who has a 6 year old. The conversation provoked the question and I didn't restrain. "I have to ask...were you planning that?" She laughed and said no, that in fact she didn't even think it possible.


I got home and walked myself to the shower. I took a LONG probably 20 minute shower letting the hot water do it's magic. And I thought about that mom, and how I think news of a pregnancy at 46, with my other child being 20, would send me right to the insane asylum. And at a young 31, but with 4 other small ones crawling at my side, the news now would probably send me to the same place. But 20 minutes is a long time to think and I shouldn't be surprised that irony made it's way into the monologue. That right now, in a shower probably not very far away, some desperate woman stands in the same comfort of the hot water, hoping it lifts the heaviness of her heart. Begging that God will trust her with one of His little ones. Promising that she'll do everything right, that she'll be the perfect Mom if just given the chance. Dreaming of that day when the doctor places the perfect gift in her hands and says, "Here's your beautiful baby." Fighting the temptation to concede to her fear that it will never happen. 


Irony is everywhere. My pain is someone else's joy. My answer to prayer is another's heartbreak. It's interesting how our lives all work together creating an intricate puzzle- allowing irony life, taking on it's many different roles. And like so, how we are thrown into the irony, demanded to fulfill those different roles at different times, circumstances, and stages of our lives. And somehow it all comes full circle enlarging our compassion a little bit at a time.