I’ve been pretty good at keeping my children abreast or ahead of their age levels in academics.  I’ve taught them their math facts and some Spanish and taught each of them to read and how to write at least an article and I’ve taught them how the earth was created and what happened the following 4,000 years and that an apple has a star in it if you cut it just right and the names of the planets and their characteristics and how far they are from the sun.

I’ve taught them to make their beds and fold their clothes and do the dishes and vacuum the floors and how to dust and how to clean a toilet.

I’ve taught them to chew with their mouths closed and keep their elbows off the table and to say “yes, please” and “no, thank you” and to push their chairs in when they are finished with a meal and not to grab.

I’ve taught my children to brush their teeth daily and keep their hair brushed and change their underwear every day and to clip their nails and to wash up before meals.

These are all good and necessary things. I’ve done an average job of teaching them, I think.  They are average at most things, and excellent in some things.

But I struggle with teaching them the most important things.

Perhaps that’s because I’m still learning the most important things.

Last night, Jacob came to me with tears streaming down his face.  He was so upset he couldn’t talk, so couldn’t tell me what was upsetting him.  I held him till he could talk, this tall, lanky 12-year-old, shaking with tears in my arms.  Finally he was able to tell me he missed his brother.  He wanted to see his brother for only  a few minutes so that his brother could tease him or mess with his stuff…he didn’t care what his brother did, he just wanted him home for even just a few minutes.

We talked and prayed for a long time uninterrupted, since everyone else was in bed.  He kept erupting into tears, so I finally told him to make a bed on the living room floor and we would both sleep in there, hoping that the close contact of a parent would comfort him.

As he was making the bed, I went to check on the other children, to make sure that they were all covered and asleep.  I found Molly crying and missing her brother.  I brought her into the living room, and we cried and prayed and finally fell asleep.

How do I teach my children to grieve loss?  I guess by just doing it. 

Solomon and I sat on the floor of the laundry room last week, Sol wailing in my arms, me crying tears onto his head, rocking back and forth and praying.  I didn’t know what to say, except pray.  Solomon said the same thing: I want him back. He can be as mean to me as he wants. I’ll try not to get mad at him. I just miss him. I miss him making fun of me . I want him back.

I don’t know how to teach my children to understand loss or how to grieve.

But I’m wondering…maybe I don’t have to.

Because it occurred to me this morning, that all of my children really miss their brother.  But mostly what they have are negative memories of him.  Memories of him teasing or hurting them or destroying their things.

And somehow their brother was worth it, all the teasing and breaking and hurting was beside the point.

They loved their brother in spite of what he had done.  It wasn’t his actions that determined how they felt about him.

It was just….him.  They just plain love him.

God must have taught them that.  To love those who aren’t kind to you, who betray your trust, who hurt you. God must have taught them to love beyond actions.

The greatest lessons are the hardest ones to teach. I can tell stories about people who have done godly things.  I can have them memorize pertinent scripture and have long discussions on the application of the scriptures.  I can have them write papers or articles on the subject.

But I can’t put it into their hearts. Only God can do that.

My job is to try to learn the lessons well myself, so that when the time comes, I can say “I understand” and lead them the way God showed me. 

Right now we are learning together. School is happening, but is unimportant. At least the school in our books.  Right now we are learning a greater lesson.  How to grieve and hope at the same time.

I have greater confidence than ever that the Father will teach my children…and me…to love under stress, to have faith, to be longsuffering, to have joy when things are tough,  to hold hope close at all times, to have and to long for the peace that passes human understanding, to be gentle and kind and good.

I’ve seen fruit. I’m grateful.