At my funeral, hand out lollipops at the beginning. Kids like lollipops and they help keep them occupied. We used to bring lollipops to court hearings when we were foster parents so our kids would have something sweet to help keep them quiet. Once an attorney saw us outside of the courtroom and said, “I’ve never seen your kids without lollipops in their mouths.” I was almost embarrassed, but life is too short for being embarrassed about dumb stuff. So hand out the lollipops when kids walk in. And give adults one too and don’t make them feel weird about it. Everybody loves sugar, why do we pretend like it’s only for kids?
And make my face into a coloring sheet and hand out those tiny packs of crayons like they do at restaurants. Put my favorite things into a word search on the back. Start with these words: writing, hot dogs, kids, books, blankets, sunshine, flowers. Tell the kids they can fold them into paper airplanes when they’re done and release them at my graveside, as long as they pick them up afterwards.
If the kids want to touch my body, it’s okay with me. When I was little and my grandpa died, my mom told me that when she touches the body, it helps her understand that the soul isn’t in there any longer. I have watched my mom tenderly pat cold hands and kiss cold cheeks. Tell the kids it’s okay to pat my hand so they know it’s just a body that’s being buried and it’s not really me anymore. If they touch it just because they’re curious or it makes them nervously laugh, it’s okay. And if that’s gross to them, they don’t have to do it. It’s okay to feel weirded out by death. We aren’t meant to be comfortable with it.
But tell them that death is the cost of being alive. Remind them we only have a short time to do all the good we can. Let them know that I wanted to do as much good as I could and I hope along the way I made other people want to do the same. Death isn’t supposed to feel natural or normal, but it is certain. My body had to die, but I am not my body.
Sing songs about heaven because kids understand heaven. Kids are familiar with weeping and afraid of the night. They instinctively know that a place of eternal day and no more tears must be a good thing. Sing about how sweet that must be for me and about how much I want those I love to be with me there someday. If a kid wants to dance, don’t stop them. Don’t tell them this is a serious time and they need to be serious. Sometimes kids just need to dance a little. I would have loved that. I would have danced with them, even though I was never a good dancer.
Tell the kids how naughty I was when I was little. Kids love to hear stories like that. Tell them that I got in trouble a lot because I was bossy and I didn’t mind a good fight, especially if I believed there was injustice. Tell them how my mom and dad taught me to use those traits to honor God and fight for people who couldn’t fight for themselves. Tell them that there’s forgiveness and grace for the naughtiest of kids and that God might just want to use those traits to do something important for his kingdom.
Make sure the kids know how much I loved being a mom. Tell them how great my kids were and how being their mom was the best thing that ever happened to me. I want them to know how I came alive when a child called me “mama” and I never stopped being grateful for the opportunity to be someone’s mom. No glory or honor or power or accolade compares to the simple joy of knowing that your child loves you. Remind the parents to tell their children that they are loved and worthy of love. Tell the kids that it’s always the right time to tell your mom that you love her. Sometimes she needs to be reminded.
Tell the kids that I loved them. If I knew them, I loved them and I hope they already knew that. And if I didn’t know them, tell them that I would have loved meeting them. Kids were my favorite kinds of people. Tell them I loved them because Jesus loved them and he liked hanging out with kids too, even when other people didn’t understand. Tell the kids that Jesus loves them so much and wants to spend eternity with them. Remind the grown-ups about that too. And remind them to love the kids and not to get too worked up when they’re noisy in places like funerals.
When everything is over, if people sent flowers, let the kids rip apart the bouquets and take their favorite flowers home. Tell them how much I loved flowers because I loved watching them grow. I loved how beautiful they were, without even having to try. I loved them all– the weeds and the roses. God made them all and sometimes seeing a weed that grows where it isn’t wanted reminds you of how beauty sneaks up and finds you, even when you’re in the midst of pain.
So bring your kids to my funeral. They’ll be welcomed there, just like they were welcomed in my home and my heart. Use it as a time to teach and a time to love, because you know that’s exactly what I would want.