As our son Randy was growing up, we taught him to pray at meal times. I would pray and then he would pray. We prayed not only offering thanksgiving for the food but also asking for a blessing upon it followed by a plea for those we knew who faced some difficult situations. On Sundays and Wednesday evenings Randy accompanied us to church where I served as a lay minister. He witnessed me serving and experienced our family serving others. When visitors came to our church services, we had them come to our home for a meal and conversation. So this story about Randy was not a real surprise to us considering his being raised in a home where a culture of serving others existed.
An only child, Randy found it necessary to make friends with all the children in the neighborhood. He mastered the art of building friendships evidenced by the respect his friends showed him. They saw Randy was their leader. Often when we came home from a brief trip, a half a dozen or more youngsters were sitting on the curb in front of our house waiting for Randy to return. He was the one to lead them on their daily adventures. He was very successful at it because they all kept coming back for more.
One Saturday morning I went out into our backyard prior to our planned shopping trip. I discovered a dead bird lying on the patio floor just below our large picture window. The bird had apparently flown into the window and broke its neck. Not wanting to delay our departure, I didn’t mention my discovery to Randy until we got home.
Returning later that morning from our shopping, I parked our car into the driveway. When we exited the car we were greeted with a united chorus from the assembled crowd of children at the curb, “Can Randy come out to play?”
With the news of the dead bird, Randy rounded up his friends and immediately made a bee line for the back yard patio.
Carol and I emptied the car of the morning purchases and I promptly left again as I had another errand to run. I didn’t discover what happened with the deceased bird until I returned home a few hours later. Then Carol told me the rest of the story as she filled me in on what transpired.
When Randy and his friends found the dead bird, he immediately hatched a plan. Randy asked his mother if she had a small box. As it turned out we had a small rectangular wooden box from a block of cheese we had previously purchased. Carol was saving it for some undefined use, so she thought this was as good a use as any.
Randy now needed some linen and cotton to line the box. Carol supplied these by giving him an old handkerchief of mine and some cotton balls. Randy organized a team effort with his friends to fashion a coffin from these materials. They lined the box with the handkerchief and cushioned it with the cotton.
Once finished, the bird was gently laid in the makeshift casket. They placed the open casket in Randy’s little red wagon. The lid to the box was laid next to it. Randy now asked the girls to pick some flowers from the garden to decorate the casket and wagon. A potpourri of flowers was laid in the wagon surrounding the casket. The funeral procession was now ready to begin.
The entourage of mourners marched around the neighborhood in single file. Randy pulled the wagon with the line of children following in single file, all heads bowed in serious sadness and silent dirge. For the neighbors, it must have been quite a sight with the parade of solemn little four to six year old children following a red wagon filled with flowers surrounding an open casket.
After circuiting the neighborhood the procession returned to our backyard. Randy retrieved a small shovel from our shed and found a place in Carol’s flower garden to dig the grave. The dirt in our yard was not conducive to easy digging as it was made mostly of clay and rocks with only a six inch covering of topsoil. Randy began earnestly to dig, but once he hit the clay, the effort to dig deeper became significantly difficult. When he got to about twelve inches deep it got so difficult Randy was prompted to consult with his mother once again.
“Mom,” he said, “does the grave really have to be six feet deep?”
Carol replied, “Randy, for the bird it only has to be twelve inches deep.”
Dilemma solved, the grave was now ready to receive its occupant. But one more thing needed to be done. Randy asked his mother for the family Bible.
The funeral scene was now fully prepared and ready. Randy, holding the Bible in his hands, presented to the assembled congregation of friends a brief funeral sermon and eulogy for the bird. After a short but heartfelt prayer, he placed the lid on the box and secured it. Gently laying the casket into the grave, the children took turns throwing dirt into the grave.
With the grave covered and strewn with flowers, the kids went out to the front of the house to continue their play.
Soon Randy’s friend Tommy came home. He was out with his parents and missed the whole funeral and burial experience. All of Randy’s pals excitedly told Tommy in great detail the funeral they had for the dead bird. Filled with shock and disappointment, Tommy immediately began to cry and sob uncontrollably. He stood shaking with tears flowing down his cheeks. It was just too much to have missed for this six year old lad.
Randy couldn’t bear to see his good friend Tommy so distraught. He put his arm around Tommy and calmly assured him, “Don’t cry Tommy, we’ll do the funeral all over again!”
So out came the wagon and shovel and the bird’s casket was carefully exhumed. Placed in the wagon with the flowers the process in its entirety was repeated for Tommy’s benefit. That little bird was blessed with not one but two funerals!
Turning Points
What touched me about this experience was Randy’s compassion and sensitivity to Tommy’s feelings. His immediate resolution of the situation was impressive. He obviously learned a lot of details from witnessing funerals that I had conducted. Randy’s love of animals prompted him to provide a dignified burial for this dead stranger that lost its life in our yard. Randy’s character, his sensitivity to the feelings of others, knowing he could make a difference, and respecting life of the animals he loved would serve him well throughout his life.
A turning point for me was a deeper realization that how parents live and act has a powerful and effective influence on the character of their children. As the old adage states, “actions speak louder than words.” A parent may not realize it at the moment, but their conduct is a significant factor in the life of their children.
COPYRIGHT © 2014 ALLAN E. MUSTERER