When Mitch passed away, he left behind his puppy, Marlie, who at the time wasn’t much older than the furry kids in this video. Since then, Marie has become a tender mercy to our family in more ways than we can describe.

Last December, Marlie had puppies. In this video are 3 of her surviving pups and the father. Mitch would have loved this video. When he was young, he always did his homework quickly so he could watch a TV series called, Too Cute, which highlighted young animals who were trying to find their way in a big new world.

Mitch loved those videos because he identified with youth - and he loved anything that caused him to feel good on the inside. Natalie and I found this video and we looked at each other and said, almost simultaneously, “Mitch would have loved this.”

Mitch taught me to never waste a chance to smile. This video has me smiling so much, my face hurts.

If you’re into following cute animals, the little brown puppy was adopted by a family in Texas, who has been a friend to Mitchell’s Journey for years. His account is here: www.instagram.com/oliverdee_mitchellslegacy/

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For those who don’t know, Mitchell’s dog Marlie, whom he received only a few weeks before he passed away, has been a tender blessing to our our son during his last few weeks. I’ll never forget how she comforted him the day/night he passed away. I’ll share a post about that tender exchange soon.

Ever since Mitch passed away, Marlie has been a curious comfort to us. About a week ago, just a few days before Christmas, she had her first set of puppies. These little pups have grown so much in the last week. Mitch would be thrilled to see his little grand doggies.

Our family continues to heal - every person in their own way, and on their own sacred time. Marlie has become something of an echo of Mitchell’s love and affection. Though a dog is not the same as a son, Marlie occupies a healing place in our hearts.

These little pups are tiny tender mercies and we are so grateful for them. We’ll only have them for the next few weeks, until we find a loving home for them. I share this photo from tonight to gladden a trembling soul or lift a heavy heart.

May 2020 be kind to us all, and may we find healing in tiny tender mercies, wherever we find them. 🙏🏼

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Little Mitch was tucked in for the night.  We had just celebrated an early birthday, at his request and he was tired and in need of rest.  No sooner had he closed his eyes than Natalie softly kissed him on the cheek, one more time.   Death was coming fast and we had reached a time when we didn’t know if any moment would be our last moment. 

“If I search for meaning first, peace and understanding follow.  If I search for peace without meaning, what I find is fleeting and hollow.”

— Christopher M. Jones | Mitchell's Journey

In the shadow of her kiss was baby Marlie, anxious to cuddle and keep Mitch company as he slept.  Sensing something was wrong, Mitch had become afraid of the dark so he asked his mom to keep the light outside his room on and his door opened a crack.  A little light and his puppy was all he needed.

Though we were going through hell at the time, we also experienced moments of supernal peace.  As death came closer, so did Heaven and unseen angels – bearing up our broken souls.  Several months prior, I could feel the sun setting on Mitchell’s life … and though there was a great sorrow in my heart, there was a certain beauty and peace, too.  A peace that doesn’t come from this place.  It is as real as anything I know – and it tells me there is more to life than my eyes behold.    

In my experience, the search for peace is coupled with the search for meaning.  If I search for meaning first, peace and understanding follow.  If I search for peace without meaning, what I find is fleeting and hollow.

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I knew time was short and midnight was near. Death was coming, and all I had was the moments that remained. How many moments left was impossible to know.

The ice upon which Mitch tread was terribly thin. His cardiologist said he was at risk of sudden death; so not a moment passed that I didn’t worry that very second might be my last. When I peered into my tender son’s eyes, all I could hear was the cracking of the ice beneath him.

“Dad, will you watch a movie with me?” Mitch said softly. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I replied, “I would love to, son.” Mitch grabbed his tiny puppy and whispered, “We can put Marlie between us and both cuddle with her.”

“I believe one of our purposes in life isn’t to avoid pain and sorrow, but to grow stronger because of it. It would seem that life’s greatest virtues are born of struggle – not leisure. So, at least for me, I have learned to focus less on the pain and more on the purpose.”

— Christopher M. Jones | Mitchell's Journey

Oh, we cuddled that night. We cuddled like we were the last two people on earth, bracing for a meteor to wipe us out. As Mitch snuggled into my chest, Marlie rested between us, ever faithful to her sick friend. Little Mitch was soon caught up in the movie … and as much as I wanted to enjoy the movie, I could not. All I could think about was the cracking ice and the deep, dark waters below. Tears streamed down my face, and my heart ached in ways I never imagined. I had never known such sorrow.

I remember saying a prayer in my heart in search of comfort, “Father, where is your hand in all of this suffering? Please, give me eyes to see. I have faith in you. I believe.” I learned years ago that “As soon as we learn the true relationship in which we stand toward God (namely, God is our Father, and we are His children), then at once prayer becomes natural and instinctive on our part.” And that, “Many of the so-called difficulties about prayer arise from forgetting this relationship.” The moment I discovered that truth, my prayers became more personal. More genuine. More effective.

The answers I was looking for didn’t come all at once. Peace would come and go like the ocean tide – and I was not spared from sorrow, neither was Mitch spared from death. But peace would come and give us a measure of rest. And when it came to having eyes to see, my eyes were opened, but slowly. Like mortal eyes, my spiritual eyes needed time to adjust – but soon I began to see tender mercies that I was previously blind to see.

I am no fanatic or a zealot, but there are some things I know, and I know them for sure. I know that despite our suffering in this life, we are never left alone … though we may be tempted to feel that way from time-to-time. God is never surprised or caught off-guard by the events that unfold in our lives. In fact, I’m convinced that Heaven walks before us and paves the way for tender mercies – so that we might find comfort in our hardships. But hardships are essential to our spiritual growth.

I believe one of our purposes in life isn’t to avoid pain and sorrow, but to grow stronger because of it. It would seem that life’s greatest virtues are born of struggle – not leisure. So, at least for me, I have learned to focus less on the pain and more on the purpose.

I miss this little boy. Though I would have done anything to keep Mitch with me, I have discovered things I did not previously see. The gift of sight, to see things right, is something I don’t take lightly. Peace, it seems, doesn’t come from things … it comes from what we see.