CLOWNING AROUND

C.J. wanted to be a clown. I couldn’t believe my ears when my thirteen-year-old son announced his desire to go to clown college. The announcement in our local paper was a small blurb, yet C.J. had seen it. “Can we do it, Mom,” he asked? The informational meeting was set for 1:00 p.m. the following Saturday. I hastily jotted it down in my appointment book.

Saturday came. C.J. and I went to town, to the hospital where the meeting was to be held. There were several clowns already there, as well as about ten other people. The instructors introduced themselves as Pat, AKA Raindrip, and Bill, AKA Hogie. They were husband and wife and had been clowning for over twelve years.

“Welcome to the Smiles Unlimited Clown Ministry,” Pat said as she started her introduction into what Smiles Unlimited was all about.

“Smiles Unlimited is an inter-denominational clown ministry committed to excellence in clowning in health-care facilities, hospitals, handicap facilities, prisons and wherever the healing power of humor can best serve those in need.” She added that that was a direct quote from Donald “Ski” Berkoski, the founder of Smiles Unlimited.

I sat on the edge of my seat; something compelled me to take in every word. “Our clown course is one of the most professionally taught courses available today. Over 5,000 people have completed our course,” Raindrip added.

She then plugged in a video, featuring the late “Ski”, founder of the organization. The video was an overview of the organization. It showed clowns gathered in a children’s ward, providing laughter to kids with cancer and those that were ill. It featured clowns in nursing homes, touching the residents, offering a smile and a responsive ear. The presentation was speaking to me. God was in control at that moment, compelling me to take this step that I had never before considered. I had gone to this meeting with the sole intention of giving my son permission to participate if he wanted; not to commit my own time. However, God had other plans for me that day, as He guided me toward His Glory.

“Can I do it Mom,” C.J. asked when the presentation ended? He was excited. For several years he had been prodding me to take him to nursing home facilities to visit. He always had a special place in his heart for the elderly and loved to listen to their regaling stories.

“Yes,” I said, as they passed around the enrollment forms for the ten week course to start the following Saturday. “I am going to do it too.” C.J. looked a little shocked at my proclamation. I could tell though that he was happy about it.

Throughout the next week the devil tried to intervene with God’s directive to me. I was bombarded by thoughts of not having the time or the money to invest in both C.J and I doing the classes. I prayed fervently that God would allow the way for me to undertake the challenge ahead.
We gathered again the following week, our official first week of classes. There was of course, the general run down of rules and regulations, the different types of clowns, and the makeup and techniques we would learn over the next ten weeks. We were introduced to several different types of clowns, a white face clown, an auguste clown, and a hobo/tramp/baglady clown. We were given our makeup, and we practiced applying the white face makeup, as each type of clown has a different style to their makeup. We were told that by the fourth week would have to decide what type of clown we would become and the decision would be final.

The weeks progressed, after the makeup lessons completed, we began learning skits as well as other ways to entertain. I have never been very comical and found these lessons the most difficult, as did C.J. We were having fun however, and enjoying putting our costumes together and practicing together during the week. It was bringing C.J. and I closer by forming a bond that we hadn’t had prior.
There were several times throughout the duration that I the devil tried to bring me down, making me think that I couldn’t accomplish this, I wasn’t funny enough, or outgoing enough. I continued to pray. God reinforced His control over the situation. He motivated me to continue to serve through this venue.

The eighth week arrived. We were all busy preparing for our first show at Shields House; a local assisted living center. This was the first week we were to show up at the hospital in full gear: makeup, wigs, and costume. The twenty-minute ride to town proved to encourage me more than any of the classes. C.J. and I waved at passing cars. We were honked at. People waved and everyone that saw us seemed to smile. I felt warm and fuzzy inside by the time we reached the hospital.

Class began as usual with a prayer circle, each clown offering thanks, praise, and requests for guidance. Everyone was improving nicely with the skits. It looked like our show was going to be quite amusing. I was beginning to feel more confident as my “clown persona” of Tootie emerged. To me the transformation was nearly miraculous, although nothing compared to the miracles Jesus had performed.

Class flew by that day. Before we knew it, the four hours were gone and it was time to leave until the following week and our final practice before becoming licensed clowns. We didn’t leave with the group that day, rather we stayed behind to ask a few questions. Going down in the elevator C.J. and I were alone. We followed the corridor around toward the front entrance of the hospital. As we rounded the corner near the west elevators, an elderly looking couple emerged with a small boy. The couple smiled when the saw us, and turned the young boy around to face us.

“Look, Zack, clowns,” the woman said.

We had stopped walking now and were standing near the elevators with these people. I knelt down, and smiled at the boy, he looked to be about four. “Hi,Zack. I’m Tootie,” I cheered.

“And, I’m Toad,” offered C.J.

The youngster began to giggle slightly, his little face gleaming like the star on top the Christmas tree. He tried to say something, but we couldn’t understand what.

“He’s autistic,” offered the lady. “We have been having some more tests done.”

We began to walk and talk with them as we headed toward the exit. Zack was fascinated the entire way his smile broadening with each step. When we reached the door, the man finally spoke. To Zack, he said, “Papaw has your hat, let’s put it on.” He then turned to me, “Thank you for making him happy. It means a lot.” I saw the tears brimming in his eyes.

I cried when I got home. I will always remember Zack in his Grandparents in my prayers. I never imagined being able to serve the Lord in this capacity. Yet, with a few simple words and a smile, I made someone else forget their troubles, if only for a moment. We provided comfort to someone in need. I am certain that there will be many memorable events surrounding this ministry. This was my first; the one that assured me that God had given me this opportunity to serve Him. “When you made My people smile, you made Me smile.”

Copyright July 2007