Questions

December 9, 2019 — Laura House

The dreaded question seemed to be everywhere after Nathan died. “How many children do you have?” Nearly every new person I met seemed loaded and ready to ask. It was as if I had a sign on my back. After settling into my seat on a flight, I’d say hello to the person next to me. With one look into their eyes, I could see it was coming.

Photo was taken by Nathan as he traveled to Spain.

At first, I anticipated the painful question with a racing heart, my mind considering the options of how to respond. If they asked, “Do you have any kids?”, I could potentially say yes and mention what my other two were currently doing. After all, they were just trying to make pleasant conversation and didn’t really care. But when they asked for a number, I needed to say three. I have three precious children— one of them just isn’t here. But the obvious problem with “three” was the risk of more questions. “How old are they?”, or “What do they do?” It went deeper and deeper.

In the beginning, my thoughts were about me and how I felt when someone asked me those questions. But pretty quickly, I started feeling bad for them— the innocent, unsuspecting person simply trying to be friendly. I knew the horror they would feel if I answered truthfully.

So what did I say? Usually, I’d say “I have two kids here and one in Heaven.” I said it with a smile on my face, hoping to circumvent the uncomfortable territory they were entering. It was their turn to have a racing mind, trying to figure out what to say next. Usually, it was, “Oh, I’m so sorry.” I’d say thank you and hope that the conversation topic would change. Sometimes they raced from the topic as fast as possible, but much to my dismay, a good number of people kept asking more questions. “What happened?”, “How did you lose him?”, “How old was he?”, “Oh, I can’t imagine?” I can’t either!

If they were simply making conversation to bide the time, I didn’t share anything more with them. But surprisingly, most people genuinely showed compassion and wanted to know what could’ve happened to the child of this stranger they had just met.

Rather quickly, something started happening inside of me through these conversations. You see, somehow in the midst of my own grief, I had momentarily forgotten that everyone around me was also living on earth and facing struggles, grief, and pain— many of them without the hope that I have in Jesus.  As I shared about Nathan, they usually started talking about a loved one they had lost, a child they were worried about, or their own depression and struggles. A momentary friendship was born as they confided in me, a total stranger. Often, my conversations ended with an exchange of emails, and always with me sharing about GriefShare.org. Everyone knows someone who has lost someone.

Today, my perspective has drastically changed and I’m curious to see who I’ll meet in the next plane, waiting room, church pew, or grocery line. Sometimes I just share a little and the person is off and running, telling me their whole life’s story. Other times, I accidentally end up “spilling my guts” to an engaged audience asking for more. And often, I’m next to someone who pleasantly says hello then pops on their headphones, so I’m able to get some work done. 

I’m grateful for the new eyes I have to see the opportunities around me to touch the lives of others. Admittedly, I don’t always notice them, as the cares of earthly life sometimes obstruct my view, but I truly hope to continue to grow in hearing and heeding the Spirit’s prompting.

“How many children do you have?” My answer to that question today is still the same. “Three. Two live here and one is in Heaven.” But my answer is no longer accompanied by palpitations. Sadness? Yes, always — but also incredible gratitude that I was given the remarkable gift of having “three on earth” for twenty-five years.  Like you, I look forward to being reunited again in Heaven.

1 Thessalonians 4:16-17 promises, “For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we shall always be with the Lord.”