Sense of Humor - A Matter of Survival

No Intelligent Life Forms in the RV

A true story about a stubborn man, a freezing night, and the sense of humor I’m still growing

“Is there anyone else in the RV?” the propane attendant asked.

“There are no intelligent life forms in the RV,” I answered.

She blinked. She knew perfectly well my husband was in there. So she asked again. And I told her again — leaning a little harder on the key word this time: “There are no INTELLIGENT life forms inside the RV.”

“He won’t come out?” she asked.

“By law,” she added gently, “I can’t fill the tank unless everyone is out of the vehicle.”

Oh, I knew. I had already informed my husband of this fact — in language I’m not especially proud of — and invited him, with great warmth, to remove himself from the RV. He had declined. I stood there in the parking lot with my blood at a rolling boil and absolutely no power to change one stubborn man’s mind. And it was cold. Winter cold. I could see my children’s breath hanging in the air.

Here’s how we’d ended up there: we’d run out of propane in the night with a camper full of sleeping kids, so we’d driven straight through the dark to keep them warm. My husband took the driving shift most of the night; I took the last hour. By the time we rolled up to that propane station, my husband was in his underwear, half asleep, and entirely too delirious to be bothered with getting dressed for something as trivial as the law. He was not coming out. Not for me, not for the attendant, and not, apparently, for the small possibility of the whole RV going up like a Roman candle with him inside it.

The poor woman waited. And waited. Finally she shook her head, genuinely stumped.

“In over ten years of doing this job,” she said, “I have never had a single person refuse to leave the vehicle. I honestly don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“There are,” I repeated, smiling and shaking my head right along with her, “no intelligent life forms inside the RV.”

I watched her have a small, quiet argument with herself. And then she started filling the tank anyway, muttering the whole justification out loud as she went: “Well… at least the kids are safe.” Relief washed over me. And I’ll confess — the mental picture of that RV exploding and my dear husband bursting out the back door in his skivvies made me grin like a fool. Such a stubborn man, I thought.

And then, standing in that freezing lot, I thought of my father.

My dad had the most wonderful sense of humor. I’ve never once thought of myself as funny — but standing there, quoting sci-fi at a bewildered propane attendant while my mostly-naked husband slept through his own near-cremation, I caught myself wondering: maybe being married to him is finally growing me one. I have learned to be grateful for every ounce of laughter handed down to me.

The tank filled. The kids clambered happily back inside. I paid, and I thanked the attendant, who was still standing there shaking her head in wonder. As I turned to go, she looked at me and offered her final ruling on the whole affair: “Well. There must not have been an intelligent life form in there after all.”

We both burst out laughing.

Some days you can’t fix the situation, you can’t fix the stubborn man, and you certainly can’t fix the weather. But you can almost always find the joke. And the joke, it turns out, is a kind of medicine.

So here is my little blessing for you today. May you find gratitude right in the middle of your current circumstances — and may you find the humor.

And if you happen to be a child — of any age — with a parent who is “less than perfect,” or who lands squarely in the non-intelligent-life-form category from time to time, let me say this to you gently: be thankful for the good that’s in them. Find the joy in the happy times. Hold onto the laughter. And trust that someday you’ll look back on the craziest chapters and finally get to laugh out loud. I’m so grateful for the good times I had with my dad. I’m grateful I was raised to love and honor my parents, and grateful for the plain hard work I put into loving them well while I had them.

Here’s to your health — and here’s to every gloriously non-intelligent life form gracing this planet. (I am absolutely one of them. Especially if I’ve eaten gluten.) Don’t let life, with all its wild twists and turns, quietly rob you of your health. Set down the anger. Set down the hate, the embarrassment, the pride, the fear, the worry. Forgive yourself. Forgive them. Take the next step forward.

And may God, in His great kindness, gift you an outrageous sense of humor.

“A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.” — Proverbs 17:22

With much love,

Steffanie