the greatest loss: ministering to parents who lose a child (chapter 1)

The Greatest

Loss

Rev. Henry M. White

Ministering to Parents Who Lose A ChildT

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reatest Lo

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inistering to Parents Who Lose A

Child

White

Butler B

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“On December 17, 1999, our 18-year-old son and only child was killed in an automobile accident. In the weeks following, my wife Brenda and I attended a group called Compassionate Friends, composed of parents who had lost a child. Being a pastor, I was impressed by the anger some of the parents expressed over how their minister dealt with the death of their child. Many more than I expected told us things the minister had said or done that they considered inappropriate and hurtful. In some cases, they shared what they wished the minister had said or done.

An expanded survey I conducted with a much larger group of bereaved parents confirmed the same findings. It was while attending Compassionate Friends that I decided to write this book, to help ministers in particular, and others in general, know how better to console grieving parents.

It is my prayer that this book will help people minister better to parents experiencing the worst tragedy a parent can know, the death of a child.”

– Rev.HenryM.White,Pastor HeavenboundBaptistChurch Elizabethtown,Kentucky

The Greatest Loss Ministering to Parents Who Lose A Child

Copyright © 2012 by Rev. Henry M. WhiteAll rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or

mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author or his assigns.

ISBN 978-1-935497-60-8Printed in the United States of America

published by:Butler BooksP.O. Box 7311

Louisville, KY 40257phone: (502) 897-9393

fax: (502) 897-9797www.butlerbooks.com

WhiteLosingAChild.indd 4 11/20/12 12:11 AM

C o n t e n t s

Introduction vii

1 What’s In a Name? 1

2 Keep His Name Alive 13

3 Me Defend God? 19

4 Silence is Golden 29

5 Please Hold Me 43

6 Drop What You Are Doing 51

7 I Don’t Want To Go To Church 57

8 Will It Ever End? 65

About the Author 71


I n t r o d u c t i o n

On May 19, 1981, my wife, Brenda, and I picked up a beautiful baby boy from Central Baptist

Hospital in Lexington, Kentucky. He was six days old. We would later adopt him. We were elated. He was a gift of God. For eighteen and a half years, he brought us joy beyond measure. The love we shared with him and he with us was very special. His involvement in his church, in school, in school and community sports, and in Boy Scouts, kept us busy and involved in a very full life. Then, one week before Christmas in 1999, on December 17, he was killed in a two-vehicle accident. That night, our lives were changed forever.

For years, as a pastor, I had sought to bring


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Int roduc t ion

comfort to those who lost loved ones. That involved families who had children die. Now, Brenda and I needed someone to comfort us.

Following Matthew’s death, we read several books about grieving. I did not find any that offered help to pastors in dealing with families who lost a child. We joined a support group called Compassionate Friends for people who had lost one or more child(ren) in death. There we heard stories from the participants about the comfort and help they received or did not receive from their minister and others.

This book is an effort to help pastors and other ministers provide comfort to grieving parents. I hope others, too, will find it helpful. Most of the book is information. At some points, I make suggestions. It is based on experiences of other bereaved parents that they shared in our Compassionate Friends group. It is also based on a survey I did with a larger group of grieving parents. Finally, it is based on my experience as a pastor, and what Brenda and I went through and continue to experience as grieving parents.

I hope you will receive help from this effort and, as a result, be better able to provide comfort to your people.

May God bless you. —Henry M. White


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c h a p t e r 1

What’s In a Name?

His name was Matthew, which means “gift of God.” We chose that name for its meaning.

Since I also wanted our son to have a part of my name, we gave him the full name Henry Matthew White, but we always called him Matthew. He was, indeed, a gift of God, beginning with the way he became our son.

We realized that if we were to have a child, we would have to adopt. We applied first with the state of Kentucky. We were approved and put on the waiting list. Because the process was moving so slowly, we decided to apply for adoption with the Kentucky Baptist Board of Child Care. We were put on the


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T he Greate s t Los s

waiting list and were nearing the top of the list when it happened.

Brenda was working at the University of Kentucky and I was serving as the pastor of a church in Woodford County, Kentucky. I was also serving in the Army Reserve. On a Saturday in May 1981, I went with my unit to Fort Knox for annual training. Two days later, Brenda called me. Since I was out of the office, she left a message for me to call her back. She said it was very important. When I returned her call, she asked, “Would you like to have a son?” I was floored. My response was, “Yes, I guess.” I had been praying for a son for months. I suggested that Brenda call a lawyer friend of mine, and ask him to work out the legal details. She did and he did. I told my supervisor, “I’ve got to go home. I’m fixing to be a daddy.” The next day I drove home, met Brenda, and went with her to Central Baptist Hospital in Lexington to get our son. He was six days old. I spent the night at home and returned to Fort Knox the following day.

We had applied with two different adoption agencies. As it turned out, Matthew was a private adoption. A fifteen-year-old girl had given birth to him and then left him at the hospital. The hospital staff in the delivery room and obstetrics ward took care of him. They were trying to help a couple in


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W hat ’s In a Name?

North Carolina adopt Matthew to no avail. Here’s how we got him.

The same Saturday I had gone to Fort Knox, the wife (Barbara) of Brenda’s boss, Bob, had gone to a ball game for one of her children. At that game, Barbara sat beside a lady who was a nurse in the delivery room at Central Baptist Hospital. She told Barbara about the little baby left at the hospital. I do not know if she asked if Barbara knew anyone who wanted to adopt or if Barbara told the nurse about us on her own. Anyway, the nurse told Barbara to have Brenda call the hospital on Monday. Barbara told Bob to give Brenda the message on Monday. He did not. Here’s another indication that Matthew was a gift of God. Ordinarily, Barbara would have gone to work on Monday. Instead of going to work, however, Barbara took a day off. To make sure that Brenda had received the message, she called Brenda herself, at which point Brenda called the hospital about Matthew. Brenda then called me.

We later discovered that, when we got Matthew, we were days away from getting a baby girl from the Kentucky Baptist Board of Child Care. Instead, we got the son for whom I had prayed. I was thirty-seven and Brenda was thirty-five.

When Matthew got old enough to play ball,


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Brenda would remind me that I should throw a ball with him since I had prayed for a son while she prayed for a baby. I did not need coaxing. I cherish the afternoons when I would go home early enough to throw a baseball or football with him. He played baseball in his freshman year of high school and football in middle school, high school, and the first semester of college. He was also on the track team during high school. Brenda and I made nearly all his games and many of his practices. You could count on one hand the games we missed.

Matthew was also involved in scouting. He came home from elementary school one day and announced he wanted to be a Tiger Cub. A local minister friend had spoken to the children about Tiger Cubs. That was the start of a long scouting career that took him through Tiger Cubs, Cub Scouts, and Boy Scouts, culminating in his earning the rank of Eagle Scout.

Remember, the name “Matthew” means “gift of God.” In addition to how we got him and his involvement in sports and scouts, the following are just a few of many memories Brenda and I have, memories that confirm to us that Matthew was certainly a gift of God.

Matthew was a happy person who enjoyed life to the fullest. Once, his happiness almost got him in


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trouble. It happened when he was eight months old. We were in court to finalize his adoption. Since our case was toward the end of a full docket, we had to wait. Matthew was cooing, squealing, cackling, and making all manner of happy baby sounds. After some time, the judge said if we could not keep him quiet, Brenda would have to take him into the hallway.

After Matthew was killed, the sports editor of the local daily paper wrote the nicest article about Matthew. He described how happy Matthew was and that every time he saw him, whether he was on the football field or off, he would be smiling.

Early in his life, we would tuck him into bed and pray. One night he asked that we sing. Thus began a practice that lasted many, many months. We sang every hymn and chorus that I knew. I am not sure when we changed that practice, but the singing gave way to the three of us gathering in the living room at bedtime to read the Bible and a devotional, and to pray.

When Matthew was two, Brenda had to go to Washington, DC, for business. At the airport, we were all standing at the gate when the plane taxied in. Matthew said, sort of matter of fact, “Mom, your Delta’s here.”

About the same time, I was pastor of a small


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church in Woodford County, Kentucky. There was no office in the church. I had to set up an office in the parsonage. One Saturday in the late afternoon, I was in the office with the door closed working on a sermon. Matthew came to the door and announced, “Supper’s ready.” I went to the kitchen and asked Brenda if supper was ready. It was not. I think Matthew just wanted me to come out of seclusion.

One Sunday night as I walked to the pulpit, Matthew said out loud, “That’s my dad.” That made me proud.

When Matthew was three, I was contacted by a church in Falmouth, Kentucky, about our moving to that church. We did not discuss it with him. He had said he did not want to move anywhere even before I was contacted by this church. Therefore, I thought I might have to help him accept it if we were called to the church. We went to that church and I preached a trial sermon. On our way to dinner at the home of a member family, I said, “Matthew, would you like to move here and make this your church home?” His response was, “Probably so.” The dinner was delicious. After the meal, the lady of the house served Breyer’s vanilla ice cream containing vanilla beans. Mathew said, “I don’t want that. It’s dirty.” (Yes, I was called to that church.)


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The day we moved was a hot day in August. Brenda was putting some things in the attic to store. It was floored and had a door with a cabinet latch on it that could not be opened from the inside. Matthew shut the door with Brenda inside. She told him to find me. When he came outside and said, “Dad, Mom wants you,” I did not know what had happened. I said, “Where is she?” He said, “Upstairs.” I went upstairs and heard her say she was in the attic, so I opened the door and let her out. She told me that she had told him to get me, but she did not know if he would. He was only three years old.

In Falmouth, there is a beautiful lake and state park, so after we were settled from the move, I took him fishing. Even though he was very young, he had his own rod and reel, and his own tackle box. Well, he caught the only fish that day. I took his pole to help him reel in the fish. When I took the pole, he ran toward his tackle box. I asked, “Son, what are you doing?” He said, “I’m getting my scraper so I can clean my fish.” It was a small bass. He was upset when I told him we could not keep it because it was too small. He wanted to take it home to show his mom.

Matthew was responsible beyond his years. When he was ten, Brenda and I had to go to a wedding rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. We hired a teenage


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boy from our church to baby-sit. On our way home, an ambulance raced by us with lights flashing and sirens blaring. I remarked to Brenda that I hoped it was not going to our house. When we got home, the ambulance was parked in our drive with the lights still flashing. We both jumped out of our car and ran inside the house. We were relieved that Matthew was okay. Once inside, we met the boy’s parents and the ambulance crew. We learned that the boy was playing video games when he had a seizure. Matthew cleared his airway and turned him on his side. Then he called the boy’s mother. She called the ambulance, and then she and her husband came to our house. At the time, Matthew was a Cub Scout. I was extremely glad that he was and that he had learned first aid.

Something very important happened when he was ten. I had talked with him about his accepting Christ, but he did not think he should do so right then. During the invitation one Sunday morning, I said, “God is talking to some of you and you know it.” Matthew immediately stepped to the center aisle and walked down to where I was standing. With tears running down his face, he said, “Dad, He’s talking to me.” He committed his life to Christ. I had the privilege of baptizing him.


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Matthew enjoyed having us attend everything in which he participated. There was a time during his years in middle school when that changed a little, however. Brenda and I had agreed to chaperone a school dance. As I drove into the parking lot, Matthew said, “Dad, could you let me out at the door and then you go park?” I did what he asked, and we did not see him again until time to go home.

After Matthew reached full height, he was six feet and one inch tall. His mom was five feet and two inches tall. He enjoyed walking up to Brenda and laying his arm across her head. He was also strong from playing football and lifting weights. One day I was teasing him. I said, “I can still whip you, you know.” He looked at me with a smile and said, “Yow, right, Dad.”

Matthew loved his mother. He thought no one could cook as well as she could. In fact, he thought she could do anything better than anyone else. She made our home so comfortable that Matthew felt good about inviting friends to our home. On many occasions, we had anywhere from one up to ten or more of his friends at our house. I was especially touched when a group of his friends asked if they could come to our house on Matthew’s nineteenth


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birthday, five months after his death. We agreed and a group of about twenty came to our house and had a birthday party for Matthew.

While I was pastor of my third church in Eliza-bethtown, Kentucky, Brenda and I drove separately to church since I went earlier and stayed later. She would leave right after the morning service was complete and go home to start dinner. I remained to greet people. Matthew would ride to church with Brenda and ride home with me. One Sunday, as we drove home, he said, “Dad, that was the ‘boring-est’ sermon I ever heard.”

Matthew was a leader. He was an officer in the church youth group, the Y club, the Pep club, Youth-in-Charge, and the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. He was co-captain of the football team in high school. When he was not on the football field during a game, he went up and down the line of players, yelling and slapping their shoulder pads to encourage them. He was a Junior Pro coach and a Peanut League Baseball coach. Finally, he was an Eagle Scout.

There are so many other memories that I could write a whole book of nothing except our memories of Matthew. I included these to let you get acquainted with him. As you can tell, I enjoy talking about Matthew. Also, every time his name is mentioned, a


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flood of memories come back to me.I am not alone. Every time someone mentions

the name of a deceased child, it brings to mind for the parents a storehouse of good memories. It also affirms that the child really lived.

Right after our son was killed, another bereaved parent said to us, “Keep his name alive.” We have found that to be good advice. Not to remember his name is just as if he did not live.

If you seriously want to minister to grieving parents, it is important to know that they want to talk about their deceased child.


A b o u t t h e A u t h o r

Rev. Henry White was born and raised in Lexington, Kentucky. He graduated from Eastern Kentucky University in 1967 and from The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in 1976.

Prior to attending seminary, Rev. White served two years of active duty with the U.S. Army in Turkey and Germany. He later served 31 years 7 months in the U.S. Army Reserves, retiring as a Chaplain (Colonel) with 33 years 7 months total military service.

Rev. White also served ten years as executive director of Helping Hand of the Heartland, a non-profit organization sponsored by churches in Elizabethtown and Hardin County that provided


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About the Author

food, clothes, and financial assistance to low-income households.

He has served as pastor of four churches in Kentucky, and is currently serving as pastor of Heavenbound Baptist Church in Elizabethtown, Kentucky.

Rev. White and his wife Brenda had one child, a son named Matthew, who was killed in an automobile accident on December 17, 1999, at the age of 18.


the greatest loss: ministering to parents who lose a child (chapter 1)

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