Tuesday, February 10, 2004 started like any other day at
school. I was teaching Bible to high school students and thinking of things I
needed to accomplish throughout the day. During my morning free period I walked
through the gym to the church office to return a stapler. The secretary was on
the phone. She motioned me over and held out a piece of paper for me to read.
The words were simple . . . and terrible. “Math Teacher’s wife and baby--dead.” She ended her call and explained what had
happened. The Math Teacher’s Wife and Infant Son had been in a serious car
accident. The Wife was gone, passed through heaven’s portal and The Son was
being airlifted to the area trauma center. The Senior Pastor could not be found
nor could she find the Youth Pastor. She asked me to find the Youth Pastor and
ask him to go to the school office. I
looked in a couple of his favorite haunts before I found him.
He was in the computer lab, chatting with another teacher. Not
wanting to disturb the classroom or be overheard, I whispered the news of what
had happened and told him he was needed down in the school office to be with
The Math Teacher. He took a deep breath
and headed downstairs.
Once again we gathered the middle and high school students
in the sanctuary. I remember standing at the doors, directing the students into
the room. Three of our senior boys stopped me--each of them either an EMT or
volunteer firefighter--they wanted to know if it was another 9/11 situation and
did they need to go serve? I was so proud of those young men, so proud. I told them that no although this was serious
it wasn’t another 9/11 situation and they didn’t need to go.
Our Science Teacher explained to our students what had
happened. Again we spent much of the day in grief and prayer. Our Youth Pastor
went to the trauma center with The Math Teacher and grief counselors from
another church in the area came and met with our students. In a small school
such as ours all the high school students knew the Math Teacher and many had
met and bonded with his wife and son as well.
“Why? What will he do? How will he survive this? Why?” echoed
over and over throughout the day.
The Math Teacher’s wife was killed instantly. His four month
old son died at the trauma center a few hours later. We were a somber, sad, and
mourning school. This was the beginning of a season of asking “Why?” as a
school, of wondering what God was doing.
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Over the next two years we walked with The Math Teacher
through his grief and loss and saw him marry again. He established a
scholarship at our school in memory of his son, a scholarship for a graduating
senior who planned to work with children. Each year the scholarship is given
out accompanied by a stuffed Winnie the Pooh, the little guy’s favorite.
What kinds of things have you established as a memorial to a lost loved one?
or
What would you like to establish given the opportunity?
I have chills as I read this, Dar. And yet, somehow there is redemption in the scholarship, the little stuffed animal. Yes, life goes on. But how necessary to recall what has affected us so deeply ... and release it back up to the Redeemer.
ReplyDeleteThank you for this piece ...
Hi Linda, welcome back and thanks for stopping by! A few years ago I was introduced to the term "making meaning" and the idea of processing a loss or difficult situation through to the point of finding a way to make something meaningful come out of a life-changing loss. The scholarship brought meaning and long-lasting impact out of a tragic loss. Dar
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