One of Mitchell’s favorite treats was hot chocolate. When it snowed around the holidays he always asked me to make my ‘famous hot chocolate’ (at least Mitch thought it was famous) so he could sit by the window and watch the snow fall and enjoy a warm treat. Our family has many good memories surrounding this activity – so I thought we’d share it with all of you.
There is nothing original about it; in fact, I’m sure Pinterest is filled with a hundred thousand variations. But this was our simple recipe and it was something Mitch loved. Some of you might like it, too.
It is fairly simple to make:
1) Warm milk to a boil over the stove.
2) Add chocolate shavings (Mitch really liked Lindt Milk Chocolate)
He would often take candy bars and use a cheese grater to make the shavings
Generally, 3 ounces of chocolate for every 2 cups of milk works well.
3) Slowly stir chocolate shavings into simmering milk and whisk until completely dissolved
4) Add chocolate to preferred taste
5) Whipped cream, with a puff of cinnamon and sprinkled graham cracker crumbs on top always made it feel extra special. Sometimes Mitch even wanted crushed candy cane on top.
As with so many things, what we do is often less important in life than how we do it. Having hot chocolate was fun, but making it together as a family made both a treat and a memory. And memories are infinitely sweeter and last much longer.
We have several other things we made as family traditions I will share over the next few weeks/months. Tonight, as Ethan and Wyatt helped me take this photo of some ingredients, we remembered the fun times and the sweet times … and our hearts grew in gratitude.
I was reminded that while we might give each other gifts this season … love, time and attention are some of the greatest gifts we can give each other.
Mitch was home on hospice when we heard a soft tap on our front door. It was Carter, one of Mitchell’s best friends accompanied by his loving mother, also a dear friend to our family. In his arms was a valentines box he carefully made at school filled with all manner of treats kids love to eat. The kids at school had just done their candy exchange and not even Carter knew what yummy treats were in his box. I remember how much I treasured those things as a kid – and I saw that same look of treasurement in Carter’s eyes.
We escorted this young boy downstairs where Mitch was playing a game. Carter knelt down and opened his box of sweet treasures for the first time. Before even looking at what was inside Carter said, “Mitch, take whatever you want.”
Mitch was shy and looked through his box of candies. Carter’s quiet smile was magnanimous. My eyes filled with tears as I witnessed two giant souls clothed in the small bodies of young children. I saw my son who was fighting for life and his dear friend giving Mitchell’s life a little joy and happiness. Whatever Carter lost in sweet candies that day, he made up for in sweeter memories – which last longer and taste sweeter than anything I know.
A few years ago I wanted to travel the earth to explore the world’s wonders. I realized in this moment the world’s greatest wonders were already before me. They weren’t marked by vast canyons, lush terrains or majestic waters. Instead, the world’s greatest wonders wore small, worn-out shoes. They had grass-stained knees, played with plastic toys and built cities with their young imaginations. They laughed and played and sometimes tried their parent's patience ... but in the end, they wanted nothing more than to make their parents happy. The world’s greatest wonders were children. I always knew this – but at this moment I knew it a little more than the times before.
A few weeks later Carter would visit Mitch again … but this time at his funeral, sobbing in ways only a young child can know. His sweet smile was exchanged with deep, childhood grief. My heart went out to Carter and I was pained he had to experience such grief. I knelt down, swallowing my own sorrows, and gave Carter a father-like hug and thanked him for being such a dear friend to my son. I told him, “Because of you, his life was blessed.”
I have had many people ask me how I’ve learned to cope with grief. My answer is that I’m really no different than anyone who grieves – and that I still have moments, sometimes agonizing hours where the gravity of grief is so great death would be a sweet release. It is a terrible burden. At the same time it is also a paradoxical blessing – for those same burdens that brought me to my knees, bruised in sorrow, have also lifted my heart and mind heavenward.
In my loss I have gained new perspective and a deeper relationship with my own Father. He is eternally kind and patient with me as I stumble in my own ways. If I could just learn to be like these young boys …
One thing I have discovered about grief and learning to live again is that if I can set aside my own sorrows to lift and love another, just like Carter did in this photo, then my broken heart heals a little. At least to me, a key to grieving well is learning to give.
My wife and I spoke to the student body of Riverton High School (in Utah) who has chosen Mitchell’s Journey as the charity they’re going to support this December. Natalie, who doesn’t enjoy public speaking, bravely shared her heart-felt gratitude to these remarkable students for the good they’re about to do. I admire this woman more than she knows. She is stronger than I am. Braver than I could hope to be. Every single day, she makes me a better me.
Speaking to this group of students was humbling. There were two assemblies back-to-back: each time the auditorium was filled to capacity with students anxious to support a good cause. There was a spirit of goodness in that High School; one I will not soon forget. I remember what it was like to be in high school – and I don’t remember anything like what I witnessed. This is a new generation of youth anxious to be about a cause bigger than themselves. They are noble, hungry to help, and filled with compassion.
For the next 18 days these students will sacrifice their time and energy during the holiday season to hold a variety of fundraising activities aimed at helping Mitchell’s Journey. Their student body president, Hannah Kartchner, reminded the students “Remember, it’s not about the money, it’s about the change.” At least to me, her words carried deep and profound meaning. She reminded me of the principle that it isn’t enough to go through the motions, but rather to let those motions go through us and change us from the inside out. This high school is enlightened because they know in the very act of giving they receive. They know that when they give from the heart, their hearts change for the better.
When it was my turn to speak, I felt as though I were already among friends … kindred souls who just want to help. I shared with the students what Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy does to children and its catastrophic outcomes; I then outlined how we plan to support PPMD, MDA and some local families with the money we raise. Finally, I shifted attention to the story of my little boy’s life and death. There were times it was hard to keep my composure. I miss Mitch and sometimes it is difficult to talk about him without getting emotional. He wanted so much to live … yet here I am, very much alive and hurting to have him back in my arms. I vowed the day I lost him, and I vow again today, to make his life and loss matter. I promised my fallen son to not waste another day of my life. Instead I promised to offer my heart and meager talents in the service of others.
Mitchell’s Journey is not only about reflections on the past, it’s about the future, too. To take grief and sorrow and see what good it can do. I don’t know much, but this thing I know: when we enlist serve others our hearts will change and they will surely grow.
Not a day passes that I don't think of him a thousand times. Yet, I'm not always sad when I do. That isn't to say I don't hurt and long for him. Grief is constant; it presses at the back of my heart and soul like a vague headache seems to ache everywhere but nowhere. Despite the aches of loss, when I think of my son my heart swells with gratitude that I even had him. My soul looks up and thanks my Father sending me such a gift ... a gift that broke me and rebuilt me from the inside out. A soul who taught me how to live and love. A gift that showed me what it means to be a father and a son. #mitchellsjourney#babiesmadeofsand