I was blessed with an opportunity to speak at a Women’s Conference this weekend about Mitchell and his Journey. As we are fast approaching the anniversary of his passing my heart has been especially heavy and emotions have been all over the place. Speaking about my son was hard to do, but necessary.

My wife and children came to listen and I was so touched by their love and support. As they sat in the front row I couldn't help but look upon their faces and feel deep love and gratitude for each of them. I have been blessed beyond my wildest dreams to have each of them in my life. 

During my talk I shared a few metaphors that to me represented much of Mitchell’s Journey, and now my own. The first was the abyss of which I have so often written about. The second is about my wilderness, an essay I have yet to post. The third was my Everest, some of which I’ve already posted. And fourthly, a heavenly constellation of tender mercies, another essay I have yet to post. I will post those things in due time.

Honestly, I don't know why I keep writing about little Mitch. I can't stop thinking about him - and I don't think I ever will. I don't write to wallow or fixate on my sorrows. I don't do it to draw attention. I suppose I'm trying to cope with the loss of my son by sorting things out and putting my heart back together … and there are pieces everywhere. Often when I sit down to write I say to myself at the end “Well, I didn't see that one coming.” 

For me this journey has been as much about discovery as anything.

I am still learning, and I ever will. While my heart is broken, my faith is stronger still. It matters not how deep the abyss or dark and frightening the wilderness. There are summits to reach and heavens that speak, “Keep going, my child. Press on.”