When our son was one year old, we moved to Indiana. The church was a small mission congregation of about twenty members. Bob’s work was centered around preaching, visiting, getting to know the people in the community, and trying to hold this little group of Christians together.

There was a couple in our congregation that had been converted some years before. They lived in the house next to the church building; and we were told that before they became Christians, they would sit on their porch drunk and shout ugly things to the members as they entered the building. They obviously changed, but she was an outspoken lady; and he was a quiet little man who did exactly what she said. She was known for making people move if they sat where she liked to sit, and she controlled whether the window was open or closed. I think everyone was a little afraid of her. I know I was.

When David, our son, was about three, the lady passed away. Her husband asked me to come to their house and choose clothes for her burial. I was so shocked when I saw her neat little closet and her well-organized dresser drawers. Her wardrobe consisted of five or six freshly-starched dresses. Her funeral was a simple service with her husband, a few church members, and a nephew.

When David was five, her husband died, and we decided this would be a good time to take our son to the funeral home. He had been asking some questions about dying, and we thought we could better answer his questions at the funeral home. Bob called the funeral home and asked them if we could take him at a time no one would be there. The funeral director arranged a time, and we explained to David what we were going to do. As we stood in front of the casket, we waited for David to ask us questions. Instead, he just stared into the casket without saying a word. Finally, Bob asked him if he had any questions. “Yes Daddy”, he said. “When will they take him out of that box, wrap him in a blanket, and put him in the hole?” Needless to say, we were shocked. We realized that his perception of death and burial was like what he saw on television in the westerns he had watched. That’s the way they buried people, and he thought that was the way everyone is buried.

Later that same year, a little girl in David’s kindergarten class at school was hit by a car and killed. The two of them were best friends, and we did not take our son to the funeral home to see her. It did, however, present an opportunity to talk about death a little more with him.

I tell you this story to say that we all need to understand the truth about death. We don’t need a view of death the way it is expressed in movies and television. Children have questions. They have a right, at the proper time, to have them answered. They experience loss of friends, relatives, church family just like adults.

About seven or eight years ago, I had a particularly inquisitive group of fourth and fifth grade students in my Bible class. We were studying the life of Jesus. One of our lessons was on the death of the rich man and Lazarus. The children wanted to know if they could ask some questions about death, and I told them they could. I had them write out their questions and bring them to class. One of the girls brought a list of more than twenty questions. These questions were well-thought out and eye-opening to me.

The misconceptions of most children are: that we go directly to heaven when we die; that we become angels when we die; that we can see people on earth; that no one goes to “the bad place”. Study the Scriptures and learn about death and dying. Learn about heaven and hell. Don’t make up something about heaven (or hell) that isn’t taught in the Bible. Your children will be better off knowing the truth.

As a side note. Please pray for the church in Winchester, Indiana. Their building was demolished in the recent tornadoes in that area.

Sandra Oliver