On this particular day I met a
young mother of 4 children. She had gone into labour at 23 weeks with her 5th
child. The baby had lived for 8 hours. What impressed me was the honesty of the
encounter. The day I met the woman, she was raw with emotion. She had a friend
with her and they were both visibly upset. I blessed the baby and spent time
talking to them both. The woman didn’t have much faith in her partner but knew
she could rely on her friends. I told her to contact me if she needed anything
further.
The next I heard was from a funeral director, who asked me
if I would take the baby’s funeral at the mum’s request. I said I would and so
contacted the mum to arrange a time to visit her and plan the funeral.
When I arrived at the house all the other children were
present, aged 13, 11, 9 and 2. There was also a friend present with a small
child. It was the most interesting funeral visit I have ever done. The children
were so naturally honest and inquisitive. I was asked questions like “How will
the baby get to heaven if he’s body is burnt?” “Will the baby recognise us when
we get to heaven?” “What is heaven really like?” The questions went on and on.
In between answering these profound and theological questions I was talking to
the mum about what she wanted included in the funeral. The whole family decided
on what music and reading to have. When I suggested the children write a letter
to their baby brother they seemed really pleased.
When I left the house I had a crowd of kids around me and
my motorbike asking me questions like “Do I live in a church?” and “Could they
have a ride on my bike?” I don’t usually leave funeral visits smiling but I did
on that day.
When it came to the funeral all the children had written a
letter to their brother and or drawn a picture.
The day of the funeral came. At the beginning of the
service the mum broke down and started to weep. The oldest child went and got
my colleague from the mortuary, who had also been working closely with the
family, and brought him down to sit with her mum. I was touched by the
daughter’s thoughtfulness. When it came to it she then read her letter
beautifully. The younger children were overwhelmed by the event and gave me
their letters to read out. If I’m normally reading a child’s words I read it
through with them first just to make sure I get it right. In this instance I
had no preparation. I think I managed to work out the spelling and grammar well
enough, but it tested me. Afterwards the letters and drawings were put on the
tiny coffin.
After the service, as we gathered around outside, my
colleague beckoned me over. The children were asking him questions and he said
he needed my help to answer. They wanted to know how all the dead people fitted
into heaven and was there still enough room for everyone. The look that
exchanged between me and my colleague said it all. He was mightily relived that
I seemed more qualified to answer the question. The children seemed satisfied
with my answer about not needing our bodies, so not taking up so much space.
I love kids and their directness. They often ask questions
that adults would really like to know the answers to if only they were brave
enough to ask.
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