Forbidden Smile
There are seven wonders of the world. But for a child there are millions. We were in a mall and my granddaughter couldn’t get over how many people there were. She had to say hi to everyone. And bye too. People were laughing. She pointed up at a mannequin and said, “Bumpa.” Which is me. That’s my name. I saw no resemblance at all. Except that the mannequin was completely bald.
Another of my granddaughters loves to say car and plane. “Car, plane, car plane!” I think she wants to get away from us. If she says “passport,” lock the doors, we’re in trouble.
When our granddaughter Claira was eight months old, my son Jeff and his wife Raelyn took her to the passport office. Now, when I was a kid we barely had birth certificates. No one had ID. Sometimes I wonder if my siblings are even my siblings at all. But if a baby is going to travel far these days she needs a passport.
When Claira arrived, the photographer realized immediately that this girl would be a problem. She didn’t scream. It was worse. She wouldn’t stop smiling. Now the thing about passport photos is that you are forbidden to smile. You can’t show your arms either and Claira kept throwing hers up in the air. So my son held the little girl’s arms down as the photographer snapped pictures. Still she wouldn’t stop smiling. She smiled at the photographer. At his wife. At her parents. At a lampshade.
The photos kept coming out far too nicely. It was a disaster. So the photographer looked around for something—anything to make her stop smiling. There were no lemons or prunes, so he dabbed her tongue with tissue paper. It didn’t work. The girl was incorrigible. “Stop smiling, Claira.”
Finally, the photographer picked the least smiley photo and, wonder of wonders, the passport office accepted it. A few weeks later Claira was seated on an airplane, grinning from ear to ear.
You know, sometimes it takes a child to remind us to go ahead and smile. The world around us tends to steal those smiles. There’s stress. Bad news. Emotional pain. Hardship. Bills, ills, wills, and not enough thrills. Then a little child comes along and says, “Why so serious? Watch this.” And she smiles.
Claira agrees with Phyllis Diller: “A smile is a curve that sets everything straight.”
I’m sure there are a dozen reasons to cry today, but there are many more reasons to rejoice, to laugh, to let go with a contagious grin.
Here are a few: You’re a child of God. You’ve been forgiven. God loves you. You’re alive.
Ephesians 2 says, “God who is rich in mercy, gave us life when He raised Jesus from the dead.” We are physically alive, but better yet, eternally alive through Christ who loves us.
Claira doesn’t talk yet, but she says a lot. One smile from her and it’s like she’s talking straight from Numbers 6: “Hey Bumpa! ‘May the Lord bless you and keep you. May the Lord smile on you and be gracious to you. May the Lord show you His favor and give you His peace.’”
One smile from Claira and I’m reminded that the years fly by. I have grandkids. I’m sleeping with a grandma now. Life is short, so I need to be a fast forgiver. A faithful lover. A slow kisser. And a big smiler. Have you forgotten where your smile is? Don’t worry. It’s right underneath your nose. So throw your hands up. And smile.
Phil Callaway is a speaker, best-selling author, and host of Laugh Again Radio. Check it out at laughagain.org
