Just a day before Mitch went to the hospital for heart failure, a friend and colleague of mine came by our home to offer Mitch some cheer. He was aware Mitch was in trouble, but none of us had any idea death was scratching at our windows. The next morning we would find death violently gashing at our door while we rushed our son to the hospital.
So on what seemed an ordinary Saturday, this noble man brought his wife and children with him; they didn't stay long … just long enough to let my son know they cared about him. They seemed excited for Mitch because he had his very own puppy. It seemed for a moment their joy was connected to Mitchell’s.
Reflecting on this experience I later wrote in my journal, “Nothing is quite so revealing as the origins of someone’s joy. If a person takes greater delight in the triumphs and happiness of others, more than their own indulgences, you have found a noble soul. This man is a noble soul.” It seemed for a moment, at least to me, this good man and his family found joy in watching Mitchell’s joy … and that moved my soul.
Because this man is modest and humble, he wouldn't want me to mention any of this … let alone something he did for Mitch a few months prior. But the gratitude in my heart cannot stay my tongue; what he and his family did for Mitch was simple but profound. Upon learning our son’s heart was in serious trouble a few months prior, Spencer and his family made Mitch the most intricate and thoughtful collage (about the size of a poster) that included funny sayings and images of Mitchell’s favorite things. It was clearly a labor of love - and such labors are worth more than anything money can buy. When Mitch first saw this hand-made poster he studied it for what seemed an hour. He was so touched that they thought of him. Mitch laughed at the funny things they wrote and he was visibly touched by nice things they said. That simple poster was a gift from the heart and it touched my son’s heart.
Just a few days before Mitch passed away I sat next to my weary son as he lay on his bed lethargic and struggling to breathe. He nudged my arm softly and pointed to the collage that was made with loving hearts and Mitch smiled – as if to acknowledge the kindness extended to him months prior. He didn't forget the love he received back then and it lifted his weary heart at the end.
Once again I was reminded the origins of joy are found in the service of others. Spencer and his beautiful family found joy in lifting and loving – they didn’t seek attention, they just sought to love their neighbor quietly and sincerely. They were my teachers then and they are my teachers again today. For in the quest for joy, simply serve others, there is no better way.
I have a neighbor who, over the years, has become a dear friend. I have always sensed a goodness in his heart, unique among men. But it wasn't until this day that I saw how good his heart truly was.
When he heard our son was admitted to Primary Children’s Hospital for end-stage heart failure he quietly came to visit Mitch and offer some love and support. He didn't need to come all that way to see us – he could have sent a text message or an email. But, in an effort to show how much he cared, he went out of his way to cheer Mitch on.
I’ll never forget how gently this noble man sat by Mitch and talked to him; he was considerate of my dying son and had a quiet and loving demeanor; he was never overbearing, but gentle and kind. He listened to Mitch, told some jokes and made him smile. Most importantly Mitch felt loved.
As I escorted my friend out of the CICU and down the dark hospital hall he turned to me with tears in his eyes. Suddenly, tears burst out of mine, too. I don’t know what crossed his mind at this moment; perhaps he realized how much my heart was breaking and though Mitch was not his son, he mourned with me and felt a measure of our family’s sorrow. Once again, I was on the receiving end of that most profound doctrine of mourning with those that mourn – and I was blessed because of it. I don’t know why mourning with those that mourn helps, but it does.
It wasn't long after my friend left the hospital that Mitch said in a soft voice, “Dad, Nate is so nice to me. I like him.” I kissed Mitchell’s forehead and said, I like him too. I was so grateful that my neighbor and friend took time out of his busy life to mind my son’s other heart and let him know he was loved.
Minding the heart is not so much a tricky thing – it goes beyond the words we say, to feelings we bring. So often I've heard people struggle over what to say to those who grieve. Sometimes they say nothing, for fear they may offend. Others try to rescue and pile on advice in an effort to mend. Most often I hear, “I don’t know what to say.” To them I respond, “Don’t worry, that’s okay. It is seldom the words you say or splatter, but the feeling behind them that shows you care … that their feelings matter.”
Far better to say “I care” and mean it, than lather on words, advice or dismiss someone’s grief and demean it. Minding the heart is so simple, but so profound; we must only listen with our heart and remember love is a feeling more than a sound.
So thank you, my neighbor and kind friend, for minding our hearts and helping us mend; not so much by your actions and words, but the love in your heart which transcends what is heard.
During the time Mitchell was home under the care of hospice he received a lot of love and encouragement from strangers all across the world. There wasn't a continent or culture that didn't reach out to him in love and compassion. Mitchell was so humbled by that outpouring of love and concern and he read every letter, email and Facebook message that was sent to him. All the while he kept telling me, “I don’t understand, I’m just an ordinary kid.”
The day after Mitchell passed away we received an envelope in the mail with the return address “mystry helper #910”. Inside this envelope was a tattered $1 bill and a torn piece of paper that read: “Chris & Natalie, $ is for Mitch’s medicine. Sorry if it does not help. :(” When my wife and I read that humble note written by tiny, concerned hands we both sat on the floor and wept … and wept. What this young child didn't know … couldn't know … was the impact that gesture of love would have on us. It wasn't the money – it was the heart … and so it is with everything.
Another young child named Samuel sent a package to Mitchell that had a Ziploc bag containing his very favorite Legos. By the look of them, it was clear he took those Legos from his own personal collection. They were choice Legos that would have been the envy of any boy and it was a clear sacrifice on that young child’s behalf. This package was also accompanied by a most thoughtful and touching letter by his parents.
Other wonderful children, feeling after our son wrote letters, drew pictures, and donated their allowance to help him. We were so humbled by the goodness of these little hands and big hearts. Each of these young children was remarkable in their capacity to love a stranger and to be so free with their substance so as to bless someone in need. I wish it were possible to list every person who wrote and loved Mitch … but we have saved everything … and slowly, we’re working on it. Not a letter, package or gesture of love toward our family went unnoticed or unappreciated. And, to every adult who reached out in love and support of our family, we are just as moved and grateful. Thank you.
Mystery Helper #910, Samuel, and everyone who raised their hands and hearts to help little Mitch in any capacity, you are all simply amazing. I wish it were possible to meet each of you who reached out to my son and family … so I could look you in the eye, with tears in mine, and say thank you for your goodness, thank you for teaching me.
We hope to pay your goodness forward … and to make every day a day of thanks and a day of giving.
Mitch was only home a few days when he asked his mom if he could have an early birthday party saying his real birthday felt “so far away.” Somewhere deep within him, Mitchell knew. His intuition, his true eyes, were beginning to sense something bigger was afoot and the little boy in him wanted to be a boy … just a little longer.
His early birthday was such a treasured experience. We enjoyed seeing some of his closest friends celebrate his birth, life and friendship. Mitch was a humble and broken king for a day. While uncomfortable with all the attention he was getting, he enjoyed his time with his friends, his favorite chocolate cake from Costco, and pizza. An old missionary friend of mine, who had love and compassion in his heart, arranged to have the mascot for the Utah Blaze come to wish him a happy birthday. Little Mitch loved that. He wore the Blaze scarf he was given and held on to the autographed helmet all night. And many of you, his compassionate followers, wished him a happy birthday with loving Facebook posts, cards and gifts.
As his friends gathered round him to throw confetti in the air Mitch quietly smiled. He loved his friends, and they loved him. But something was happening within him and I could see it in his face. His adult soul was quietly emerging.
That evening my sister gave Mitch some helium balloons that had little glow sticks in them. They hugged the ceiling like florescent zeppelins as his room looked like a dimly lit moonscape. As my wife and I tucked him we told him how wonderful he was and that we loved him with all of our hearts. His eyes filled with tears as he told us he loved us, too. Our son drifted to sleep feeling loved. And of all the gifts we could give him, love was the most important. Yet I knew in my heart there was no gift I could give my son equal to the gift he was to me.
As I crawled into my own bed Mitchell’s birthday played back in my mind like a home movie. My heart was full but my soul trembled that night. I heard my son’s voice in my mind over-and-over: “My birthday feels so far away.” I marveled how a young boy could have such a distinct impression. He didn't know the details, but he had a sense of things. And often, a sense of things is all we ever get and we must do the spiritual work of understanding the meaning of it all.
Mitchell’s impression was not an isolated experience. At a later time I may share some other things that happened; things that showed me that all that is out of mortal view is, in fact, not so far away. It is closer than we know.
I have been taught that inasmuch as we serve each other, we are also serving God. So, I am deeply grateful to all of you who served my son by lifting his troubled heart. Your gift of love to him was also a gift to his parents. From the depths of our hearts, we thank you.
This little boy, who had to walk a lonely road, felt a little less lonely this day. And for that, I am grateful.