Well, today I sent my three oldest, David, Emily, and Josie off to their first day of 6th, 4th, and 1st grade. Normally the first day of school is marked in our home by a big family breakfast, lots of pictures of smiling kids in crisp school uniforms, and hugs and smiles for teachers. This year...not so much.
You see, last week we got the news that Ruben Hernandez, aka "Coach," the Rosa Parks Academy physical education teacher, died tragically in a cycling accident less than a week before school started. When I heard the news, it was if my heart was ripped out. I cried out to God, "Why?" Coach was not just a teacher in our family...he was a friend. He loved my kids and knew all about their lives outside school. My kids adored him. Dan and I adored him. He was David's teacher for 5 years, Emily's for 4, and Josie's for 1. When I volunteered at school, we sat in the break-room and laughed over my kids latest shenanigans, and he told me all about his adorable daughter Gigi and her own toddler adventures. When he was at our home, we watched with sheer pleasure as his competitive side shone through as we played Kubb with all our Rosa Parks teachers. He inspired our children to love exercise, treat each other with respect, and always be a good sport, even when you loose. And the most beautiful thing is, he was not just all these things to my family...countless other families have many of these same kind of memories of Coach. He leaves behind a legacy that will not soon be forgotten.
I have to say that from the perspective of a parent, Rosa Parks Academy and the Aspire Public School system system have handled this quite well. They sent home letters to each family, followed up by a phone call. They shortened today's schedule to allow teachers and families to attend a celebration of life for Coach today. They had counselors in the classrooms today (and all week) and activities planned for the kids that would help them grieve or reflect on their feelings for Coach, as well as a parent meeting to answer questions. They even allowed Dan to come in and offer grief counseling for those seeking faith-based answers. It was the first and hopefully only time Dan ever had to wear his clerical collar to school, I pray.
I was so consumed with my own grief and worry for the kids and teachers at Rosa Parks Academy that I didn't even take pictures of the kids this morning. It's not that I didn't think of it or have time. But for some reason, it just didn't feel right. Maybe tomorrow? Maybe next week? Who knows.
In the last few days, my kids have learned a lesson in what it means to reach out to others in times of tragedy. Last Thursday and Friday, we helped many of the RPA teachers prep their classrooms in a time when all they wanted to do was stay home and grieve their lost friend and coworker. My kids worked diligently helping teachers sharpen pencils, make name tags, organize pencil boxes...whatever was needed to get ready for the first day of school. The teachers expressed their gratitude with words and hugs. I praised my kids for being the hands of feet of Jesus in a time when they might rather sit home and cry.
I don't know why this happened to Coach. I don't know why sweet little Gigi has to grow up without the most amazing father, and his wife has to live each day without his love. What I do know is that God is still good. I don't for a minute believe God wanted this to happen. The Bible tells us that every good and perfect gift is from God, and this is not my idea of a gift. I think that Satan has done this to pull us away from him...to make us question God's goodness. To ask, "Why would a loving God allow such a thing?" But what Satan intends for evil, God can use for good. God can take this tragedy and use it to show us that his promises still endure. We are still his creation, loved by him. The tomb is still empty. The price is still paid. I'll see Coach again some day, and maybe, just maybe, others will share in the glory or Christ as well because of this. In this lies my hope. In this lies my joy.
Rest in peace, Ruben. I thank God for your life. Say hi to the Big Guy for me.
