Children and Grief

“Unless you change and become like children,
you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”
Jesus in Matt. 18

Her name was Alyssa. I met her as the new minister of Noonday Baptist Church near Woodstock, GA She had been the poster child for Atlanta in a recent MD telethon. She was precious. She loved the BeGees. She had met them through Make a Wish Foundation. It was one of the highlights of her life.

She was about 10 when I became her minister. I met them in the hospital as Alyssa suffered a chronic lung infection which is part of the last stages of the disease. She went home in a few days. That was where I saw her home and all her memorabilia of a short life filled with important moments. Many people had gone to bat for her and her working class parents. They could not afford much, but love prevailed in that home.

Fast forward 2 years as the disease had weakened her to the critical point. She was in the hospital this time for her last hours of life on this earth. When I arrived the Physician was attending himself. He had fallen in love with this little patient along with all of us who met her. Her smile was contagious and it never left for long even in the most hurting things modern medicine can do. Nothing conquered Alyssa or put her down for long.

The Doctor had his stethoscope to her heart and was listening quietly. The parents were standing at her bedside with dread all over their faces, but tempered by faith. There was nothing for me to say except to be there standing quietly. We waited on God.

Suddenly there was a strange woman pushing the door open uninvited. She burst into the room and began her “Christian Cheerleader” routine. She began to tell the parents how they must have faith--they had plenty. It showed quietly for the last 2 years to me. She then began to speak in a loud voice to Alyssa as she lay comatose. You could hear her at least 2 doors down. “Alyssa, if you hear me nod your head!” Alyssa’s almost lifeless body did a slight convulsive motion. This set the lady on fire and she began her sermonet about being saved and going to heaven. Alyssa, and none of us, needed a last minute deathbed confession. Our spiritual roofs had been thatched a long time ago.

For about 5 minutes this lady carried on as insensitive “do gooders” do--more interested in what they are doing than helping the one in trouble. Words, no matter how spiritual, mean nothing when a beloved child is dying. My first thought was, “This lady needs to get a foot in her behind to get her the devil out of here.” Somehow God gave me a crisis word. We had another lady in the hospital with hysteria-induced ranting about her minor illness. She just had asthma. However the central circle was filled with my church folks tending to her because she was one of the families called “the click.” No one was there for Alyssa but me, her physician, nurses, and her parents.

I can’t believe the words which came out, but I quietly asked her to help my other church members pray down the hall. She quickly left--thank God. I was about to do the “money changers at the Temple” approach on this wacky “do gooder.”

As the door closed, Alyssa’s parents whispered a quiet “thank you” through tear-filled eyes. Again, our eyes focused on Alyssa and her quietly attending Doctor. In about 5 minutes tears filled his eyes and trickled down his cheek. Quietly he said, “She’s gone.”

We all did as Jesus: we wept!! Not a word was said. No words could get past the ball of grief in our throats anyway. Finally, her parents asked if I could say a prayer. I have never choked one out with any more anxiety. All I could say was, “Thank you God for this child who has brought so much joy to all of us. Thank you for the faith she had. Give us some of it today. Thank you for her caring Doctor. Thank you for the nurses who have attended her. Give us all a peace that passes understanding in these hard hours of loss. In the strong name of Jesus we pray. Amen.”
With that we hugged one another until we each had to leave. One nurse after another quietly came by as the word passed in whispered sorrow. We all cared more than words could say. No one thereafter came with any “do gooder sermonets”. They are a wasted effort in such time. People need to be loved through grief.

God gave us 2 ears and 1 mouth for a reason: listen more than you talk.

Some years ago John Drakeford wrote the insightful book, The Awesome Power of the Listening Ear. It tells of the importance of listening in times of hurt: losing a child, spouse, friend, house to foreclosure, etc. He was so right.

Dr. Richard Young taught for many years at Bowman Gray and Southeastern Seminary in my student days. He was a brilliant chaplain and mentor in the early days of clinical training with a psychological background to help with understanding. He told a story I shall never forget.

There was a male patient in Dr. Young’s student days who was the terror of the floor. He had a terminal illness and cared not how or when he focused that anger. Every Dr., nurse, or student chaplain was deathly afraid to enter his room. Dr. Young thought about it while he waited his turn to do the inevitable round with this man. He decided to try something different.

He went in the room and pulled a chair beside the door. He sat down and said NOTHING! After the required 30 minutes, he stood to leave. The patient spoke. He said, “Thanks for saying nothing and just being here. I needed that more than you can know. I am tired of the questions and “cheer up” bull from every one except you. Thanks for being here and DO come again! When I am ready to talk, I will. Until then, button it up, if you please.”