Posts tagged Motherhood
A BACKPACK FILLED TO OVERFLOWING     

Every day before Mitch went to pre-school he would carefully fill his backpack with his favorite treasures of the day.  I love how young children do that.  On the top of his bag his sweet mother wrote his name with a symbol under each word: a star to let him know he was our shining little boy and a heart to remind him he was loved beyond measure.

Memories and experience are all we really carry with us in life, and beyond.  And because our experiences are the things no economy or person can take away, they’re worth investing our time and attention.
— Christopher M. Jones | Mitchell's Journey

I always enjoyed seeing what he was going to pack – for each day was different, each day unique.  I often wondered what his treasures said about his state of mind.  One thing is for sure, he was a tender, sweet child … as all children are.     

My sweet wife would often place a secret note for Mitch and our other kids in their bags as they went to school.  She wanted them to know that she loved them and thought of them always.  And perhaps on a day that wasn't quite going right, this little note would be a lifeline of love for a discouraged heart in a sea of trouble.  As her husband, I would occasionally see one of her thoughtful notes in my own bag, too, and it meant so much to me.  If that small gesture of love meant so much to me, I can only imagine what it meant to our kids.  I love her for that. 

I had just taken Mitch to work with me in the spring of 2006, around the same time I took this photo.  Here is an excerpt from my journal:   

“I’ve been blessed to take Mitch to work on occasion. Often he’ll sit with me at the conference room table while I’m meeting with employees & contractors.  Sweet Mitch will quietly find himself coloring, playing with toys, and driving cars on my back and across my arms, or playing games by himself.  He is such a sweet little boy.

I’m always surprised how considerate Mitch is of his surroundings and how careful he is to not be disruptive. I suppose from a distance keeping him at an office for hours at a time is not very fun.  [Even still] Mitchie asks me if he can come … and he is so enthusiastic about it. Each time he comes to work with me I’ll bring a sleeping bag and pillow and we’ll make a comfy fort under the table – just like I would make as a young boy, but better.  I’ll surround him with toys and things to do and kiss his sweet face as he wiggles himself into his comfy fortress with a smile. I have so much fun with him.

Sometimes I’m tempted to call all my meetings off and spend the entire day making forts and playing with toys. I am not convinced age will diminish my desire to become a kid again.

After my meetings, I always take him to lunch and we talk about his favorite kitties and the blanket forts we’re going to make when we get home. I worry he’s growing up much too fast.”
  

Fast indeed. 

Seven years would pass in a flash and this little boy would no longer be with us.  As Mitch was collecting his childhood treasures through the years, as little children do, I was also collecting memories and experiences.  Memories and experience are all we really carry with us in life, and beyond.  And because our experiences are the things no economy or person can take away, they're worth investing our time and attention.

Like my son, I have a backpack of treasures I carry with me, only it cannot be seen … and it is filled to the brim with love and treasured memories.  Filled to overflowing.

 

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A MOTHER’S BURDEN IS A MOTHER’S BLESSING

This was the night before Mitch slipped into end-stage heart failure. His heart was already failing, we just didn't know it at the time. But this was our last night of normal.

Young Mitch was so tender. So frail.

I believe one day when this life is over our eyes will be truly opened and we will see mothers in all their majesty and greatness. Men will have been a small player on a much grander stage.
— Christopher M. Jones | Mitchell's Journey

“Hey Mitchie, it’s time to go to bed,” Natalie said softly. “Mom, will you help me off the floor? I don’t know what’s happening, but I can’t do it by myself anymore,” Mitch said with an even softer tone. Natalie reached down and scooped up our son with love and tenderness. She knew Mitch wanted to be independent, so she helped him to his feet, then he slowly walked to the bottom of the stairs. Then, he turned to his mother again as she lifted him once more and ascended the stairs.

I overheard Mitch say, “I love you, Mom,” as she carried him up the stairs. My heart swelled for a moment, then I sensed something terrible was about to happen, and my heart fell to the floor and I scrambled to catch my breath.

Soon little Mitch would drift off into that place of dreams. Each night, I knelt at my son’s bed and prayed to my Father that Mitchell’s dreams would be sweet. I prayed for his health and well-being. I prayed that I could somehow take that bitter cup and suffer for him – so I might spare my little boy such hardship.

It was something of a bitter irony that at the moment of this photo we prayed for Mitchell’s health, then a week later we found ourselves frantically praying for more time. Soon our prayers changed again, and as death drew near, we prayed for a gentle, yet quick death. We desperately didn’t want Mitch to suffer - and we knew so much could go so wrong. We were terrified … and we soaked our pillows with tears.

The night Mitch passed away, Natalie wept over our son’s body for hours. She has since shared with me on several occasions the tender and sacred impressions she received that night. Though Natalie was in deep agony, she also felt moments of Mitchell’s tender presence. She wasn’t looking for it – instead, those impressions came distinctly and unexpectedly. During those sacred moments, she felt Mitchell’s soul was allowed to linger and that her soul was touched by little Mitch who was about to travel to that place beyond the hills, that place we cannot see. It was almost as if he said, “I’m okay mommy.” Natalie was overwhelmed with an impression (different than a feeling) that Mitch had a particular purpose on this earth, and though painful to carry the weight of sorrow, she suddenly felt profoundly honored to be Mitchell’s mother. When she shared that with me, I nearly fell to my knees and wept. In that moment, I was reminded of the sacred relationship mothers have with their children – and that I was merely a small part, perhaps even a spectator, of a much greater plan.

The work of motherhood, I’ve observed, is quite different than that of a father. I’m not talking about sharing household duties, shuttling kids from one place to the next, or helping them with homework; I’m talking about the sacred and spiritual bond a mother has with her child. It is a relationship unmatched in all the universe – and I stand in reverence of it.

I think Kate Bush said it best in her song, “This Woman’s Work”:

I stand outside this woman's work

This woman's world

Ooh, it's hard on the man

Now his part is over

Now starts the craft of the Father

I believe one day when this life is over our eyes will be truly opened and we will see mothers in all their majesty and greatness. Men will have been a small player on a much grander stage. We will discover the greatest work that will ever be done in this life is raising children – and none compare to influence of mothers. Therein we see the craft of our Father.

When I think back on this tender evening, the night before we learned time was running out, I see a mother’s burden, and I also see her greatest blessing.

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FEAR & COURAGE*

The door to my home office burst open with a big waft of air … “Chris, guess what?” Natalie said with a smile.  I was so startled by her sudden entry, I began to worry a pipe broke in our basement apartment and that our few newlywed belongings were being washed away.  “Is everything okay?” I said anxiously.  She paused, “I’m pregnant.” 

In that singular moment, I was overcome with two emotions.  On the one hand, I was excited because I always wanted to be a father.  At the same time, I was frightened and said to myself, “I am so inexperienced with life … am I ready for such a responsibility?”  Ready or not, we were going to have our first baby and it was up to me to rise to the challenge of fatherhood.  We were poor as church mice, trying to fight our way through college and full-time jobs.  I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t say I was afraid of the future.  I was young and afraid. 

In life or in the face of death, there are moments every human will shudder with fear … and somehow, some way, we must find a way to take up courage to face the things that frighten us. 
— Christopher M. Jones | Mitchell's Journey

Soon our little daughter joined our family and my heart was spilling over with love. She was a most precious little girl and I loved seeing her personality emerge.  Over the next few years, I saw her become an independent, feisty and compassionate little girl. Ever since she came into my life, I have tried to fiercely protect her from people who might use or take advantage of her. My greatest desire then and now is to help her see her true worth – for I love her so. Thus began our family – under less-than-perfect circumstances and in many ways under a shadow of self-doubt and fear.

By the time Mitchell was diagnosed with DMD, Natalie was already pregnant with our 4th child, Wyatt. Fearing our newest baby might have DMD, a medical professional suggested we think about aborting our baby. We dismissed the notion wholesale because we valued life more than our inconvenience. What’s more, although Mitch was diagnosed with a fatal disease, his tender life was still worth living. For he found much joy in his life, and so did we.    

We were prepared to accept our baby no matter what physical challenges he might have. As mother and father, we would stand united and love our child with all we had. We were still afraid of the future, but we faced our fear with whatever faith and courage we could muster. That was the best we could do. I suppose that is the best anyone can do.

So on this day, I’ll never forget our newborn sleeping peacefully on the examination table as Natalie took on a most ponderous demeanor. This was the moment we would discover if Wyatt had DMD. She seemed to look upon him as if to say, “Sweet baby of mine, no matter how heavy the burden, I will carry you all the days of my life.” Such is the magic of motherhood.

A blood test would soon reveal Wyatt was perfectly healthy and fear retreated like the evening tide. That night, I knelt at the side of my bed and tearfully thanked my Father for my family. I was grateful Wyatt was healthy. I was also grateful we were blessed with Mitch, broken wings and all. Though I felt inadequate, I promised to do my best to be a dad and asked that He would somehow make up the difference.

Whether I’ve faced professional insecurities or deeply personal self-doubts, I have confronted my fair share of fear, worry, and discouragement. What if I ran from fear? What if I turned my back on fatherhood and abandoned my family when we discovered Mitch was sick? I would have missed one of the most profound blessings of my life. Everything that has ever scared me, when confronted, has made me stronger.

In life or in the face of death, there are moments every human will shudder with fear … and somehow, some way, we must find a way to take up courage and face the things that frighten us.

No matter how much I want to, I cannot know the future. So, when I face fear or the unknown, I try to remember the phrase “Courage is not the lack of fear. It is acting in spite of it.” Then, I do what my sweet wife taught me years ago, I take the next best step.


These are images of Wyatt having blood drawn to screen for DMD.

There is a profound story surrounding little Wyatt: an answer to prayers, his birth and his life.  That story is shared in our Tender Mercies presentation.

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THE SEARCH FOR PEACE

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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