Having Fun Yet?

Laughter comes easily around our place. My 16-year-old daughter, Sam, and I play a dance-steps computer game. We stand on a pad and match our steps to the instructions on the TV screen. When I first tried it, I nearly tripped and smushed our unsuspecting dog. The second time, I tangled my left leg up into my right foot and stumbled into the ottoman.

We now move anything I might damage or maim.

More often than not, our game ends in uncontrollable laughter. I’ll give up and start doing an Irish jig to a country tune. Sam will flop down and start hitting the pad with her hands. Or we’ll throw inanimate objects at the TV screen. “Take that, you dancing doofus! No human being can actually move like that!”

The world’s way

It hasn’t always been so easy to come by good times. In my college days, my idea of fun took a lot of work. When my college buddies dragged me to the local hot spots, I did my best to be the party. I pulled together my nicest outfit, donned my dancing shoes and put just enough lip gloss on to make my lips look the perfect combo of shiny, pouty and irresistible. When my friends handed me a drink, I tried to sip it without gagging.

At the end of the evening, success was defined by the number of drinks consumed, the amount of attention received and the lateness of the hour. If all went well, my fun gave me a decent headache and more than a few regrets. It was exhausting.

Past college, fun continued to be defined by self-gratification. When I was in my early 20s, I married a man with a similar idea of fun. We pursued our pleasures in our own directions. For a while, that meant each other. But when self-sacrifice became part of the mix, our ideas of fun were thwarted, and our marriage quickly disintegrated.

Nothing turned out as I expected. My culture told me that being desired by men and doing what I pleased, when I pleased, would bring me joy. Commercials told me that as long as I drove a decent car and knew how to tell a good wine from a bad batch of grape juice, my dimples would crater out from sheer delight.

So how did I end up as a penniless single parent with a broken heart and a shattered life?

True enjoyment

Twelve years as a single parent changed my view. I’d seen the stark result of society’s definition of fun. I didn’t want that for my daughter. I found my way into church, and there my Savior gave me an entirely new perspective.

By spending time with Jesus, in Scripture and with other believers, I learned I had believed a lie. All those years, I thought that God was out to rob me of fun. I believed His laws were meant to come between me and a good time. As I grew in my understanding of God’s character, I discovered that His restrictions were always meant for my good.

Then I discovered an even more beautiful reality. God not only insisted on boundaries to protect us from the world’s version of fun, but He also offered an entire world for us to explore and enjoy. I couldn’t believe I’d missed it for so many years.

There are forests to hike through, lakes where I can fish and swim, mountains and wildlife to admire. I can go whitewater rafting, horseback riding or kayaking, immersing myself in a creation handcrafted by a generous Father. If I’m not up for high adventure, I can stroll down the street in springtime or along a boardwalk in the summer, taking in the rich blue sky, the pounding surf or the budding trees. I can get lost in the orchestra of sound on a warm summer night or in the sweet stillness of a snowy winter afternoon. I can play games or learn goofy dance steps with my family — focusing less on myself and more on the ones I love. And I can allow all that beauty to draw me to thankfulness, dimpling my smile in all the best ways.

Lapses in understanding

It’s been a few years since I’ve come to understand how God uses His vast creativity to bring us pleasure, so you would think I spend all my time enjoying the things He’s provided. But I don’t. Not always. Sometimes I’m still sucked into society’s idea of pleasure — the kind that’s all about me and my in-the-moment desires. I might get caught up in watching a TV show that doesn’t honor God or in longing for the next great toy.

Thankfully, God is quick to remind me of the emptiness found in the world’s way and the deep contentment found in His. And I find myself, once again, turning from the false glitz of self-serving pleasures to the reality of His blessings, which become more and more evident as I renew my mind and open my eyes.