Ho’oponopono: Teaching Forgiveness and True Connection

Grief

Recently, a student whom I teach passed away of natural causes. It was completely unexpected and, unsurprisingly, upended our school community. The student had no shortage of friends and was very likable. In my ten years of teaching, this is the not the first time I have lost a student, but it is the first time I lost one whom I was currently teaching.

The day after I heard the news, I was, like many others who knew the student, grieving, crying on and off. It was apparent that my grief was impacting my family–I wasn’t my usual spunky, smiley self. Though I knew the value of allowing the emotions to come up and out, I didn’t want to unnecessarily stay in a place of withdrawal from my family. I prayed for help in quickening the necessary process.

Healing

Within an hour of that quick “tossed to heaven” prayer, I passed by our bedroom where my husband was watching one of his favorite medical dramas. The current scene highlighted a family challenged with letting go of their aging father. The family wasn’t religious, so the doctor suggested a more general spiritual aid to help them through the grieving process: the Hawaiian forgiveness practice of Ho’oponopono.

I'm sorry.
Please forgive me.
Thank you.
I love you.

I was no stranger to this practice…it was one I had used on a number of occasions: primarily to facilitate internal healing with those whom I was angry with or felt guilty about hurting. But it didn’t take long to realize its power in my current situation: this was an answer to my prayer for help.

Ho’oponopono

I found a YouTube track with the prayer recited on repeat and brought the recently deceased student to mind. Slowly, it all poured out.

I’m Sorry

I’m sorry for not being the teacher I should have been for you. I’m sorry for learning little beyond your name, your basic interests, and your grades. I’m sorry for being so focused on academic success that I forgot to relate on the human level and truly care for you. I’m sorry that it took this happening for me to wake up to who I could and should be as your teacher.

Please Forgive Me

I pray that you don’t hold this against me and that you understand that I was doing the best I could at the time. I ask your forgiveness.

Thank You

Thank you for your laughter, your kindness, your good heart. Thank you for what you’ve taught me. I won’t take what I’ve learned for granted. I pray that your passing will make me a better teacher and that others will be better off for me having known you.

I love you.

I care deeply about your soul and am glad that you are happy and well.

I recited this on repeat for several minutes. Slowly, the flow of tears ebbed, my heart opened again and joy and peace freely began to flow through.

The Gift Extended

I truly have become a better teacher as a result of the lessons I’ve learning from this student’s passing. And I don’t think I’m the only one who was not just grieved but changed to the core by this loss. At the student’s funeral, at a rather large community church, it was standing room only, with hundreds of people who echoed what I felt–the child deeply cared about everyone they met, and, in 14 short years, let hundreds know that they were loved.

That next week, I returned to a teaching practice I had used earlier in my career that had fallen by the wayside. I began spending a few short minutes early on in every class to build relationships with the students. We once again had Mindful Monday, Transformative Tuesday, Wellness Wednesday, Throwback Thursday (fun story-telling), and Fun Friday.

That first Mindful Monday, our second full day together as a school community after learning about the student’s passing, I shared Ho’oponopono with my students. I first clarified the meaning of “love” in this context (just so it wouldn’t get too weird–they are adolescents). I explained to them that I loved each and every one of them, my soul to their soul. That meant that I cared about them, that I wanted the best for them. I wasn’t sure if any of it landed, and, honestly, for some, it may have opened up wounds that they weren’t ready to have opened, especially since the student we so recently loss was the pro at showing that Ho’oponopono love to us. But some of us cried together, and, hopefully, some healing took place. Later in the week, I was half-jokingly able to refer to the prayer when one student had a small grievance against another: “Alright you two, remember: “I’m sorry, please forgive me, thank you, I love you.” Again, not sure where the students were coming from with it–I suppose all things will reveal themselves in time–but there were definitely some smirks and the mini-conflict blew right over.

Power of True Connection

The greatest blessing from this past week was the ability to tell students that I loved them without fear and for them to have a better understanding of what that means. Some of the students have very loving, warm families, but not all do. Perhaps, for some, they may only hear “I love you” on occasion. And those words, when there is depth of heart behind them, signify emotional presence. They allow the loved one to know that they are genuinely cared for and that they mean something to the speaker of the words–that they are held in the speaker’s heart.

A Different Kind of Tears

After a week of relationship building, classroom management was suddenly easier, both the students and I were smiling more, and, for reasons that I understand but still surprise me, students were more engaged in learning. Even though we spent less time on content each class, the time we did spend was richer, more productive.

And then…it happened. Towards the end of the week, in two different classes from two different students, the words were spoken:

“Love you, Ms. Chrest.” Yes, it was said with a smirk, but they meant it…just the way that I meant it when I said those words to them. Not in a “get you fired from your job” way or a “you’re the best teacher in the world and I can’t imagine anyone else in your place” way but a “hey–you matter to me” way.

Writing this post, that brings a different kind of tears. Loving each other, taking care of each other…that’s the stuff that really matters.

The Hidden Actor Behind It All

The books of Esther and the Song of Solomon, though in the Bible, do not mention God explicitly. And yet, God’s fingerprints are all over the contents. The same is true here. It is not me who orchestrated any of this healing but rather the Holy Spirit who urged me to pray for help, provided the answer to that prayer, inspired me to share this with the students, and stirred their hearts.

Even in our darkest moments, our saddest days, God is working all things for our good. He can bring healing to our pain and loss, joy to our sadness, light to our darkness. (Isaiah 61).

So, though this post has enough first-person-pronouns to make me feel slightly nauseous, its definitely not about me–first, it’s about the lasting impact of one of the most warm-hearted 14 year old’s I have had the opportunity to teach, and, even more so, it’s about the one holding it all. The One who teaches us the power of true connection. The One in whom we live and move and have our being.