As a law enforcement chaplain, I have been entrusted with delivering death notifications on school campuses on several occasions over the past 31 years. 

In 1994, I told a young teacher that a little ten-year-old girl in her class had been killed in an early morning house fire. I learned something about the student-teacher bond that day. And I spent the day with a class full of second graders after telling them that their classmate had been killed the night before in a car crash. It is the only time I have delivered a notification sitting on the floor with a group of 7- and 8-year-olds surrounding me in a semi-circle.  This week the roles were reversed. A group of 4^th graders taught me a few things about reacting to an unexpected death.

My wife’s first cousin, Amy Mason Williams, died unexpectedly at age 45.  Her death was a stunning to the entire extended family.  Amy was an elementary school teacher.  In fact, she had been teaching for 23 years in the Houston area.  There is no doubt she had found her calling in her life. She was a gifted educator.

I have never had to tell a group of children that their teacher has died unexpectedly.  But I felt deep empathy for the person who was entrusted with that difficult task.  The school counselors that arrived on campus to comfort Amy’s 4^th graders apparently did a superb job.

They had the students write handwritten notes addressed to Amy’s husband, Chris Williams. I had the privilege of reading each of those notes a few hours before officiating at Amy’s memorial service. One little girl said these things about her beloved teacher: “She was a wonderful person.  She was a wonderful teacher.  And she is watching over us. She is in our hearts and always will be. She is with all the people we knew up in heaven. Be happy. She is in good hands.” 

A little boy expressed his regret that he had not “tried harder in school for Mrs. Williams.”  He basically conveyed that he was an ornery 4^th grade boy.  I felt deeply for him. I was an ornery 4^th grade boy in 1972. And I teared up, as I thought about the prospect of losing my beloved 4^th grade teacher.

There is a lesson here.  Children can teach us a few things about serving those who are grieving. Most of us do not know what to say when an unexpected death has occurred.  And so, we end up saying things that have a pious ring to them, but they feel empty and even offensive.

 The notes I read were heartfelt.  The personality of each student came through in their correspondence to Chris.   He will treasure their words for years to come. He can read them time and time again.  Their innocence and tenderness have already brought healing.

I am determined to think more like a 4^th grader, as I serve grieving people.  And I am reminded that I need just to be myself.  Do you know someone grieving today?  Call them.  Send a note.  Be honest. Show your tender side. Act a like a 4^th grader…. You will bless someone.