I've heard tell that desperate times call for desperate measures. My husband Ted and I hit one such first-world measure en route to our honeymoon destination, Paris. On the car ride from our condo to the airport, it struck us that we'd forgotten one very important item: a camera. I mean, seriously, who — prior to the days of iPhones and Instagram — packs for anywhere in Europe and forgets a good, old-fashioned camera?
No big deal, we decided. We'd make a quick stop and buy one. So there we were, at a Kmart less than a mile away from the airport at five-thirty in the morning, frantically determining our photographic future. Not only did we choose a store that didn't have a wide selection of good cameras, this was before the ease of looking up reviews on that handy-dandy smartphone.
We wouldn't discover until over 7,000 miles later that we might as well have taped the word "loser" to our foreheads. Sure, we had pictures of us at the Eiffel Tower. We had carefully constructed shots of the district of Île de la Cité taken from the bell tower of Notre Dame. There we were at the Louvre and Musée d’Orsay. And who could forget the Sacré-Coeur Basilica and the artists' square of Place du Tertre?
Well, all those memories were captured on that 110 film.
Yep, we chose the starter camera that parents used to get their kids for their eighth birthdays over 35 mm. Cheap film. Cheap camera. Our printed pictures — a collection of grainy and often out-of-focus shots — revealed this not-so-pleasant surprise.
The whole "Paris Honeymoon Camera Fiasco," as I'll call it, could have created an ongoing point of contention for Ted and me if we'd let it. Instead, we chose — from the beginning — to embrace the humor in it.
A Lighthearted Marriage
In our marriage, a sense of levity — or lightheartedness has carried us through a myriad of seasons. Ted and I have navigated the joy of our four daughters' births, as well as the pain of job loss, the stress of cross-country moves, and a miscarriage. And while we've certainly cried tears of frustration and grief along the way, we’ve also tried to consistently find the humor in life.
For us, laughter has been "good medicine" (Proverbs 17:22). In fact, if there's one thing we know how to do — and do well — it's laugh together. While I'm no expert on why certain couples have trouble laughing together, what I do know is why Ted and I do not have trouble.
You see, when it all comes down to it, an unburdened heart is a lighthearted heart. And when you put two unburdened hearts together, laughter may very well follow.
The Unburdened Heart
When I say "unburdened heart," what exactly do I mean?
[Read the rest of the article at The Time-Warp Wife.]