by Jerri Akins

Created on: June 27, 2008   Last Updated: September 22, 2008

Years ago in East Texas, Della was my best friend. She was a little over five feet tall and weighed a little over 100 lbs; gorgeous red hair and approximately three million freckles. She was very cute.

But probably more striking than any of her physical characteristics was her ability to make people laugh. Della and I laughed together a lot. At ourselves, at each other, and everybody around us, lovingly of course.

A lot has been said about laughter: That it's the best medicine. That it's the universal language. That it's the shortest distance between two people. And I firmly believe all those things, but I learned different things from laughing with Della.

In those days we had a pretty strict religion. There were a lot of rules; rules that Della would giggle about - or snicker about - and you didn't expect lightening to strike her because of it. And you knew deep in your heart that there was no way God could be mad at Della for what she just did. So how bad was it really?

Through that process came the first thing I learned from laughing with Della. I discovered that if you can laugh at something, it takes the mystery out of it. And with
the mystery gone, you can admit to yourself, "I have questions about this. I need answers." Instead of guiltily brushing the questions aside and saying, "I'm sure I'll
understand it later," or "Someone much smarter than I am figured this out."

Which leads me to the second thing I learned from laughing with Della. I learned that the truth doesn't change if you ask questions. If it's true, it will still be true when all the questions are in. And if my religion can't stand up to my questions, it isn't real for me.

So then through the questioning process I learned another thing. I learned to be honest about how I felt. And a result of that, I learned to look at myself differently. I learned to have respect for my own feelings and thoughts. Laughing gave me permission to be me.

The third thing I discovered was that if you can laugh at something, it doesn't own you. Laughter can take the edge off pain. Laughter anchors you when things get crazy.

Della wasn't aware that she was teaching me all these things. These things drifted quietly into my subconscious while we were having a good time and enjoying life. I'm not even sure that she herself made those same discoveries that I did. We never talked about it and then I moved away. But those discoveries have enriched my life in untold ways, and
those memories stay with me like none else.

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