We shouldn't have to say goodbye to children

This morning I drove my oldest son to Middle School like I do every morning. I prayed over him and over our school on the way, and couldn't get over that "ugh. it's Monday." feeling. As I was leaving I noticed a news crew across the street from the school. I noticed that the Crossing Guard looked like he was talking to them, and the thought crossed my mind that I was hoping they were doing a "feel good"/"good neighbor" story on him because he is always so happy to see the kids when they walk to school each morning. I drove home with a smile on my face and a prayer of thanks in my heart for people who are willing to invest in our kids. I got Micah going and off to the bus, and Scott left for the airport for a short business trip. With a quiet house and a very busy week behind me I decided to take a moment and get caught up on my Facebook posts. As I scrolled down and read my eyes caught the name of my son's middle school in a post from a news source. I quickly jumped right to it and read as my heart dropped to my knees. Yesterday an 11 year old boy was riding his bike downtown and he ran into a city bus that was making a right turn. He went under the bus, and when the authorities got there they found that his left arm had been severed in the accident and he had already lost a lot of blood. He died in the hospital later that day. They shared his name. Ben Fulwiler. It rang a bell and I started thinking about conversations CJ and I had last week when he mentioned Ben's name. I couldn't remember the exact conversation, and it bothered me wondering if he had mentioned Ben when we were talking about a kid who had been expelled for smoking pot, or if it was something different. A nagging catch told me, no, it was something different...something closer to him. Either way, I knew Ben was someone CJ knew and my Momma's heart pounded into the unsteady pattern of wanting to comfort my child. A friend whose son is also a good friend of CJ's called and she had the brilliant idea to look in our elementary yearbook to see if Ben was also a student at our elementary school. As I looked at the picture it all fell into place. Ben wasn't in CJ's class last year, but they did have advanced math together and I interacted with Ben a LOT during my times of being in the classroom helping. He had a ready smile...a quiet disposition...a sweet personality. Ben was difficult to really know as he had a bit of a wall around him, but it was difficult not to like him. I enjoyed and looked forward to being in that class. All of the students made that possible, and Ben was definitely in the group of reasons I enjoyed being there. I decided to head up to the school at lunchtime and just see how CJ was doing. I checked him out at the attendance office, then walked in to the cafeteria to get him. I didn't see him, but he saw me and came up to me with red-rimmed eyes and a somber spirit. We walked to the car and decided to just go get a coffee and talk. Ben had become a better friend to him this year. Middle school does that, doesn't it? You don't have just one class of people, but multiple classes, so those who are in the most classes with you tend to be better friends. Experience and all, y'know? Ben was in CJ's three core classes. When I picked him up CJ had just come from Humanities and they had spent the entire hour with the counselor talking about Ben and grief and how to handle the pain. CJ's comment was, "even my teacher was crying, Mom." (Do they realize just how much our students grow in our hearts?) After letting him cry and holding his hand and just being there with him he decided he wanted to go back in and finish it out with his friends. I walked him in, checked him back in and left with a heavy heart for our students. A school should not ever have an overtone of quiet and grief in it (except on report card day! :) ), and the 6th grade lunch room definitely did. I came home, busied myself and went back to the school to play "parent protector" for the students in case there were news crews again. Not to shove cameras away, but rather to ask them respectfully to not try to talk to the kids about this and let them grieve. Thankfully there were no crews, and I came home. I turned our corner right behind CJ's bus...saw his red shoes hit the pavement and waited an eternity for the bus to shut off it's flashing red lights and move out of my way so I could get to my son. I looked at the group expecting him to be walking and talking to his friends...probably about Ben. I wasn't expecting what I saw. His friends were walking...quietly, somberly...and ahead of them, alone and with shoulders heaving, was my CJ. As I pulled up I noticed he wasn't just crying quietly, he was literally sobbing. Immediately my own tears popped and my voice caught as I tried to yell his name and get his attention. I was on the phone with Scott at the time ~ how helpless he felt being far away and unable to do anything for his son. As CJ got in the car I handed him the phone and he said, between sobs, "Ben was my best friend, Dad!" My heart lurched again...and again...and one more time for good measure as I realized the conversation I couldn't remember earlier was about Ben & CJ and how they worked together in science and math and humanities. Ben was interwoven throughout my son's day...and now he was gone. We got to our house and he went inside while I stayed outside to continue my conversation with Scott. Both of us just sat in silence. I mean, what do we do? My parents never had to deal with a friend of mine dying. I never had to deal with anyone other than an acquaintance or two my age dying from a long-term illness, and anyone I did have close to me passed at a ripe, well-lived age. How do we handle the sudden, unexpected death of my son's classmate and friend? I jokingly said all those aptitude tests I took from 9th grade on that told me I should be a Funeral Director (number 1 or number 2 ~ EVERY. TIME. ~ not joking) will come in to play here, I suppose. We chuckled and reminded each other God is here and has a plan....and we'll just let Him guide us through this. It's been difficult. It's been sad. We've shared tears...and smiles...and lots of hugs. ...and we've been reminded that in our pain God offers us opportunities only if we're willing to take them. Each morning we pray that CJ and the rest of his small group members would be courageous in their faith. This is an opportunity to practice courage as his classmates wonder what happens when we die. CJ tends to think Ben was an Atheist (yes, my heart broke again), but I pray he cried out to the God he knew deep down was there in the middle of the end. I pray, too, that CJ and his classmates who love the Lord are bold enough to share the confidence in death that comes from knowing this world is not the end! I pray and encourage him to not be afraid to ask the question, "what happens when we die? Where will you go when you die?" and have that conversation about knowing that Jesus Christ died for us so we could have life. Life is short...and we have no idea how long we have on this earth. How are we living? Are you bold in your faith? Are you confident enough in the very One who says to be strong and courageous to stick your neck out and share your faith with those in your life whose hearts matter to you? I have a son who is wishing he had been. Don't let someone in your life pass on to an eternity lost because you didn't want to offend them.