Are We Having Fun Yet?

(James having a white-knuckled blast on the kiddie train at Griffith Park)

I have a question.

When’s the last time you really had fun?

I have a feeling that your age might have something to do with your answer. For instance, if you’re in your twenties it might be “last weekend.” If you’re in college, it might even be “last night.”

I can’t even remember the last time I had fun.

I guess that’s obvious. I haven’t exactly been Little Miss Sunshine lately.

I’ve had the blahs.

I realized that I was suffering from a serious Fun Deficit the other day when I was trying to think of something to look forward to. (…something to which I could look forward, English Teachers.) And came up with Zilch.

Scary.

I’ve spent a large part of my life in either wistful remembering or anticipatory expectation of Fun.

It’s letting me down now.

Everything just seems so serious and so…

terminal, or something.

The move and the flu didn’t help matters, but it’s more than that.

I’m back on the west coast now, and the Fun Deficit remains felt even here.

Ennui. A void.  A longing. For what, though?

Novelty? Excitement? Change?

Girls just wanna have fu-un. (So do boys.)

My grandson James thrives on it. Lives for it.

To my horror, I realize that we’re doing the same thing to him that I did to my kids… that my parents did to me: I am turning him into a Fun Addict.

Since I observed my own sense of Fun Deprivation the other day, I’ve become more sensitive to the topic. I’ve noticed myself using the word indiscriminately.

“Come on James, let’s hurry and take a nap so you can wake up and have fun!”

“We’ll go to the park this afternoon. Won’t that be fun???”

“Did you have fun at school today?”

Fun, fun, fun is being drilled into his head.

(“And she’ll have fun, fun, fun ‘til her Daddy takes the T-Bird away…”)

The problem with Life is that the T-Bird always gets taken away. Or breaks down. Or gets a flat tire. And many of us blame our Father when that happens.

As if Fun were one of our inalienable rights. Life, Liberty, and…

Every time you turn on the TV, some sort of Fun is being advertised and extolled. Collectively, our nation burns with the desire for more and more and more FUN!

It’s an addiction that we transmit to our children.

It’s not really fair to them. It wasn’t fair to us.

Because the gray day dawns when one realizes that Life Isn’t Always Fun. And then we feel gypped. Ripped off. Deceived. Let down. Cheated.

Fun really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be after all. Like New Year’s Eve.

Historically speaking, I think the obsession with having Fun is fairly recent. Until the 20^th Century, people were more concerned with just staying alive.

The word does not even appear in the Bible in most translations. The exception is in the NLT. (New Living Translation) In every case but two, it is used negatively, appearing in the phrase “make fun of…”  For example, “In that day your enemies will make fun of you.” (Micah 2:4) The use of the word in a positive context (i.e. “to have fun”) is limited to these two verses: “Doing wrong is fun for a fool.” (Proverbs 10:22) and the part in Ecclesiastes where the teacher wryly advises that you might as well eat, drink, and be merry because tomorrow you may die. Obviously B.C.

The origin of the word is revealing. It is a variant of the M.E. fon, “befool.” By the 1600’s it had acquired the additional meaning of “trick, hoax, practical joke.” The verb form meant “to cheat or hoax.”

(Which explains a lot.)

Fun is a counterfeit of Joy.

Fun’s not a bad thing. It’s great when it happens… especially when it’s unplanned. Planned fun rarely works out for me anyway. For instance, my husband bought us some expensive tickets to a really fun concert when I was home last. (I’m not talking about Rachmaninoff.) I ended up lying in bed eating Advil and croaking “Love Shack” to myself while friends rocked the night away with our tickets. Oh well. There’ll be another time. Or maybe not.

I’ve learned not to hold my breath.

And I continue to try to shift my focus.

I’m tired of this whiny little pity party I’ve been having. So I remind myself that it’s just a quick trip down here. No one promised that the trip would be a blast. It’s a journey through unknown rocky terrain. There will be moments of joy and laughter, and times of terrible despair and pain. Long, barren stretches of boring plodding. The key is to keep moving on up the mountain, no matter what. And to keep my eyes on the prize.

There is absolutely no temporary titillation on this planet that can compare with the everlasting joy that is yet to be revealed. That is available now.

I’m tired of pursuing counterfeit pleasures.

I want the real thing.

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“No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared
for those who love him.” (I Corinthians 2:9)

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I’m interested in your thoughts. What does “Fun” mean to you? When’s the last time you had fun?

How do we enable our kids to have joyful childhoods, while preventing them from becoming Fun Addicts?

(A little more fun on the pony ride...)

(Surprised by joy on the playground at the end of the street, which was unexpectedly open when we got home from the park.)