Being Born

People often talk about the horrors of dying. Sigmund Freud died of throat cancer at the age of thirty-nine, but I heard he blamed that on his mother. Therein lies another dad joke you are welcome to use in Sunday school if you like. Having not died yet I cannot speak intelligently about it but that won't keep me from trying. Evidently, when the good Lord was handing out tongues, I received two and I'm compelled by Oklahoma law to use them. The truth is, arriving in the hereafter must be far more intrusive than the act of dying. This harkens back to the idea that getting out of bed is the hardest part of the day. We often hear people say things like, "when I go, I hope I get to die in my sleep." I must ask, who decided that is the best and most painless way to go? The way we have been known to snore in unison in this house, that would NOT be a peaceful way for my demise to happen. As in life, it is always possible for us to hang a pitchfork on the seat of our own britches. Anytime I read Christian accounts of dying people always talk about being drawn into a bright light. Is that the way it really happens, or is that just the Hollywood version? But bright lights notwithstanding, nobody knows how our last minutes in these earthly bodies and minds will go down. The idea of joining the good Lord on the other side is comforting, but the ways in which we get there are daunting and uncertain to say the least. Will it be as easy as drifting off to sleep or more like having a massive car wreck?

There are many reasons why a trip to the other side feels strange to us. Maybe our earthly minds just have a hard time grasping the idea between reality and eternity. Eternity in a human brain just doesn't compute because everything we know on earth has a shelf life. In other words, God's lofty ideas are way over our earth-bound brain's comprehension. From scientist's point of view when you are dead, that's it, there is nothing else. But if science is right and the only reason the brain works is because of electrical impulses the idea of eternity would no doubt make all of our impulses fire at one time. When our pulse stops, the heart stops beating, and the brain dies science has no more answers, everything past that is pure speculation on their part. This essentially means that that even someone with a PHD in neuropsychology cannot comprehend the hereafter. The how's and whys of where we end up on the other side are as foreign as trying to learn another language from scratch.

Granny used to say to me often: "dying is as natural as being born." Those carefully chosen words of Her's resonate with me fully and often. But, by the same token we should also consider that being born is also no picnic. I fully appreciate the accommodation my sweet mother gave me those long nine months of gestation. I also give her extra props because I had a large head and extra broad shoulders. But if you are human and have a belly button like the rest of us homo-sapiens you too have experienced being born, although you probably won't remember it. For nine full months we live in our own little, quiet, warm sack. We are fed, watered, cared for, and free from harm. Yet at the end of that period, we all be pushed into cold and desolate world against our will to eventually make our own way whether we are ready or not. We are bound by humanity to be prepared for greatness when our first act as a human being is to have our heads pushed through a hole that isn't much bigger than a pecan shell. Unbeknown to either child or mother at the time that this area is made to stretch is usually when the father gets yelled at for no particular reason and is why I stand by the idea that the best place for him is to be in the waiting room handing out cigars while he paces a hole in the floor. Comedian Rodney Carrington has pointed out in seriousness and in jest that after women have a baby the develop a pouch. Although nobody knows why and we are not allowed to talk about it. He points out that grabbing the pouch is (even by accident) "a NO SEX penalty." "Personal foul, grabbing the pouch, twelve-yard walk to the guest room, fourth down!"

Having babies is a nightmare even (or especially) for those that have never studied physics. Carol Burnette once famously said, "any man who wants to know what it feels like to bear a child should ceremoniously pull his bottom lip over the top of his head." This comparison of course is for those that are born naturally in the traditional fashion. I was born C-section, but you can't tell unless I am getting ready to leave the house, and then I tend to want to use the window instead of the front door. You know what they say, reality is everything. The next reality we have to deal with is the very first person we encounter holds us upside down and whacks us on the butt until we cry. Then, he grabs a hold of our umbilical cord and puts a square knot in it like he is trying to dry dock a John boat. Then it's off to get fingerprinted like we just held up a convenience store. How's that for laying out the welcome mat for our first day in a new world?

I suppose now is the right time to ask the question of the day, "isn't it more important what we do between the cradle and the grave?" One might call the act of being born just incidental contact like roughing the passer in the NFL. This should be a reminder that the most important trait in life (physically or mentally) is flexibility. When I use the word flexibility in the instance I am not talking about being able to bend over and touch your toes, I am taking about approaching life with a purposeful attitude. You might not need the patience Noah had trying to build an Arc at age 900, but it couldn't hurt either. Being able to roll with the changes of life means that the little setbacks we experience tend to hurt less. Remember that the bad times are nothing more than a dress rehearsal for the good. In short, when everyone else's moral is lower than a gopher's basement we learn to stay clear of the elevator. Hang in friends, I can assure you the sun WILL rise again tomorrow, and while it may not get better, it could certainly be worse.