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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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Overcome by a high fever, Mitch lay motionless in his bed.  Our hospice nurse informed us his body was making one last attempt to survive and that his time was very, very near.  Natalie sat by the side of his bed and began reading a children’s book that Mitch purchased and been wanting to read a few months prior.  With a soft voice, even that of an angel, Natalie began to whisper that sweet story to her son.

Little Mitch was awake, but he could not open his eyes.  His only means of communication was squeezing our fingers when asked a question.  He signaled to Natalie he wanted her to read it to him.

“You know what I think?  If you’re going to build muscle, you must lift heavy things.  It takes work, sweat and a lot of effort.  Why should my soul be any different?  I guess that’s why we have to carry this.”

— Natalie Jones | Mitchell's Journey

Ever since Natalie was a little girl, she dreamt of being a mother.  Having and raising children of her own was the greatest desire of her heart.  So in this tender moment, my heart sank to the floor as I saw a noble mother … a woman who would have laid down her own life if it would have spared her child harm, forced to say a slow and painful goodbye.

There was no malice in her.  She was a kind-hearted soul who always found ways to serve those around her.  As for Mitch … he was innocent and good.  He had done the world no harm – in fact, he brought the world a measure of peace and comfort by his gentle nature.  Yet here they were; seemingly undeserving of such sorrow.

There was a time that it almost felt as if Mitchell’s room was transforming into a kind of spiritual train station … that we were waiting until such time our son would be swept away to some far-off place, never to return.  Knowing that time was near, my heart swelled with love and gratitude when I saw Natalie do what noble mothers do … love and serve.

The next day Natalie and I would find ourselves kneeling, not at the side of Mitchell’s then empty bed, but our own, pleading for comfort.  For months, we would wet our pillows with tears of deep grief and a most tender sorrow.

How is it that two noble souls were caused to suffer in such a way as this?  A mother’s lifelong dream dashed and a faithful child’s life cut short.  Surely there are others in this world who would cause harm to others – why not them?  Why must the innocent and pure suffer?

I do not know the purpose of all things – but I have discovered a little about the meaning of human suffering.  I’ve been taught that even if we do well, and we suffer for it, that we’re to take it patiently.  I have learned that it rains on the just and unjust and that nobody is spared sorrow.  I don’t ask “Why me?” … I ask “What am I to learn from this?”

Just today, Natalie and I went to the cemetery to visit little Mitch and reflect on our last 4 years without him.  Natalie said, “You know what I think?  If you’re going to build muscle, you must lift heavy things.  It takes work, sweat and a lot of effort.  Why should my soul be any different?  I guess that’s why we have to carry this.”

There have been times in my life when I fell deeper in love with my wife.  At this moment, when Natalie read to Mitch on his dying day … when she served him with tenderness and love – I fell deeper in love with this noble mother.  And I fell deeper in love with her again today, as she shared a spiritual insight that strengthened me and gave me fresh courage.  I am grateful for this noble mother who loves and serves, despite the heavy things she must carry.

I am a lowly husband and father who stands deep in the shadow of his wife and fallen son.  I hope to always honor Mitch by serving, protecting, and loving his mother.  While the world, delirious and confused, pointing one way and another … I will follow the example of Natalie, my teacher … a noble mother.

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Whenever possible, I like to create things that remind me of the many blessings I've encountered in life. If I'm not mindful, it is easy to forget; and when I forget, I can't be grateful ... and when I'm not grateful, it is difficult to find peace and joy.  I've discovered there is a direct link between gratitude and joy, thankfulness and healing.

Tonight, on the eve of Mitchell's passing, I decided to make a desktop wallpaper that was symbolic of a portion of his journey. I started out making it for me ... but then I thought to share it here, too.

“If I’m not mindful, it is easy to forget; and when I forget, I can’t be grateful ... and when I’m not grateful, it is difficult to find peace and joy. I’ve discovered there is a direct link between gratitude and joy, thankfulness and healing.”

— Christopher M. Jones | Mitchell's Journey

On the left, a beautiful sunset that little Mitch loved so. Fireflies hugged the base of a tree. Mitch always wanted to capture some in a jar but never had an opportunity in this life. Ducks gathered near - he always loved to feed them with his mom at a local pond. Then, birds flocked toward the setting sun - Mitch loved birds.

As the wallpaper progresses there is a patch of darkness which represents the peril our family encountered - an experience that taught me how to see in the dark. Then, in the center is Ethan pushing his little brother. To me this symbolizes the sacred conversation Ethan had with Mitch just before he passed away; wherein a big brother ushered his younger brother toward the next life. Ever by his side. Ever the faithful friend. That conversations between brothers was one of Mitchell's last.

Continuing forward, there are hints of heavenly constellations in the night sky - representing the many tender mercies our son received on his difficult journey I have not labeled them here because they are private, but they are very real. Then a few hints that perhaps [spiritual] reality is far different than we might imagine. After all, as we are reminded in ancient scriptures as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are God's thought higher than our thoughts, his ways than our ways." Lastly, the north star; representing the place we all hope to go in the next life.

I've uploaded this wallpaper to mitchellsjourney.org for any who might benefit from a gentle reminder that tender mercies exist ... and that heaven walks before each of us to prepare the way for our life experience. I don't know many things, but that much I know.

Tonight my heart is filled with tender emotions, but it is also filled with feelings of love and gratitude. There is a measure of peace amid the pain. All is well.

Tri-Screen Desktop Wallpaper

This wallpaper series was designed for multiple monitors.

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Tomorrow night marks the anniversary of a sacred time in my life. I'll never forget how the weight of grief settled on my shoulders the night my son passed away. The heavens, it seemed, grew dark and all became black. It was only in that moment of pitch darkness that my spiritual eyes began to adjust and I started to recognize what seemed like little flecks of light. Only these flecks were symbolic of tiny blessings. It didn't take long for me recognize how many of those blessings were connected to each other. What I discovered in my moment of darkness was Heaven was always there; guiding and directing our lives to shape us into better beings.

As I reflect on the life and loss of my son, I also recognize the many tender mercies that accompanied his difficult journey. If Mitch was not alone, then I think it's safe to say none of us are either.

I am reminded that when things get especially dark, I must pray for eyes to see things as they truly are. Then, and only then, can we get a glimpse of a much grander design. To our pleasant surprise, we will begin to see Heaven's tender mercies spread across the passage of time.