This is an unusual video for Mitchell's Journey. Stick with it - because it will take you to an unexpected discovery. In the end, it's about life and family.
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When Mitch was a tiny boy he’d softly say in a childlike tone, “Dad, come wiff me, I show you sumping.” With that, his chubby little hand would grab my fingers and gently tug me toward something he discovered. He was never overbearing but with great love in his heart would gently lead me along. Until his dying day, that softness never left my son – though he probably could have found any number of reasons to be angry with his lot in life. He was kind and pure and overflowing with a faith I scarcely comprehend. I think when my mortal eyes fall away and I see my son for who he truly is, I will see that he was my older brother and that he was here to teach me.
“I can almost hear his whisper now, ever so softly in my mind. Only this time he see’s things that I cannot – for he has traveled down a path far from mortal view. So, I must listen closely now … I must listen with my heart and mind; for gems of the soul are, on purpose, not easy to find. ”
I was always fascinated by the things he found interesting; the way an ice cube melted on the kitchen table, or how bees would land on a flower and not fall off the petal, or the sheer magnificence of a sunset that captured his heart. Little Mitch was easily entreated and marveled at the little things in life. To Mitch his cup was always overflowing and he stopped at nothing to drink it all in.
On this spring day, while taking a walk as a family, my sweet little boy offered that familiar invitation “Dad, come wiff me, I show you sumping.” With a little tuft of grass in his hand he led me to a corner behind a tall tree and said in his tiny voice, struggling to pronounce the letter “L”, “Dad, wets make a fort.” I don’t remember the other things he said … I only remember getting choked up by his tenderness. I wrote in my journal that night, “How great are these little ones. Indeed, of such is the kingdom of heaven.”
When I look at this tender photo of my son I am reminded it isn't what we do together as families that matters as much as how we do it. My most treasured memories with my family aren't the big trips to Disneyland or other attractions, which things were always significant financial investments. Instead, the memories I treasure the most were the emotional investments in my children … it was the tiny adventures just down the street from where we lived; it was the cuddles on the couch, the heart-felt talks about whatever was on their mind, or the wandering conversations on the grass. Those memories are where my heart yearns to go – for they were woven with love. I would rather have one loving conversation with my children than a thousand trips to all the wonders of the world. In every way that matters, our children are the world’s greatest wonders.
Even in his later years, before he passed away, Mitch would often come to me and just as tenderly say, “Dad, come with me, I want to show you something.” I was always anxious to see the world through his eyes.
I can almost hear his whisper now, ever so softly in my mind. Only this time he see’s things that I cannot – for he has traveled down a path far from mortal view. So, I must listen closely now … I must listen with my heart and mind; for gems of the soul are, on purpose, not easy to find.
Sometimes, when I’m listening, I think Mitch still beckons me to see the things my mortal eyes are blind to, yet my spirit seeks eagerly.
I am so thankful for my little son who taught me one the most important lessons on earth and heaven above: whatever you do, do it with love.
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Without warning, an enormous clap of thunder exploded, and my boys and I jumped with fear. A dark storm was brewing, and the afternoon sky had become almost dark as night. The campfire we were just about to start would have to wait until the downpour passed. From the looks of it, it seemed the storm was going to linger a while as the cool mountain wind almost ushered us into our tent for protection.
Mitch squirmed into his sleeping back and wiggled around as if to snuggle deeply into the mound of soft things that surrounded him. I chuckled a little because I did the same thing when I was a boy, and in that moment, I remembered how fun it was to be young. I looked upon my boys with a touch of envy. Mitch pulled his hands behind his head, his face bearing a light mustache from chocolate milk, and began to smile softly. “We’re safe and sound, right Dad?” Mitch said with a mixture of confidence and concern. “You bet, Mitch. This is going to be a crazy camping adventure.” Mitch smiled and said, “I know you’ll keep us from floating away.”
Within minutes, we could hear the intermittent pitter-patter of raindrops on the tent. A few minutes later, a burst of raindrops assaulted the side of the tent as the wind began to pick up speed. Soon, we were in the middle of a torrential downpour. I worried if our tent was rated for an hurricane-like storm. Mitch nudged my arm and said, “Doesn’t this remind you of Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day?” Mitch giggled as I peered nervously out the window, keeping an eye out for a flash flood.
We knew there might be bad weather, so our backup plan was to have a den party in the tent. So, I pulled out a portable DVD player, broke out some snacks and pulled up our covers as the boys and I watched a movie under the thinly veiled safety of our tent.
I didn’t sleep well that night. Aside from a few breaks in the early evening, the rain never really let up. So, I laid in the tent in a trance-like state – somewhere between sleep and wakefulness … sitting up every hour to make sure the boys were dry. By morning the kids were rested, and I was hammered.
Of all the moments in life, the ones I remember with great fondness and nostalgia, aren’t the times things went perfectly. Instead, the moments I treasure most are when we struggled and found our way through a hard time. Don’t get me wrong, perfect times are just that … perfect. I love and appreciate them for what they are; honey is honey. But the taste of lemonade is never so sweet as when you must work to make it so. Perhaps that’s why hard times often end up becoming our best times, in the end.
This photo of Mitch reminds me that even in our difficulties, we can make the best of what we’ve got – and somehow, some way, we’ll look back and be glad we lived the life we lived. In every struggle, there’s a price to be paid; but in the end, that’s what makes the sweetest lemonade.
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On this spring morning, Mitch slid down the stairs on his tummy with a collection of toys in hand. I could never figure out how hands as tiny as his could hold so much stuff – but if it was important to tiny Mitch, he always seemed to find a way. The bus was coming, you could hear its brakes just down the street, so Mitch was in a hurry. Every day before Mitch went to pre-school, he would carefully fill his backpack with his favorite treasures. I love how young children do that. On the top of his bag, his sweet mommy 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.
At this time in our young lives, I had a lot on my plate. I was concerned about everything young fathers worry over. I worried whether I had what it took to be a father and husband in the first place. I felt inadequate on every level. On top of that, I worried about how to make ends meet while trying to launch a start-up with a handful of employees. I wasn’t just trying to feed my family, I was trying to feed ten others.
No matter how much I worried about everything on the outside, my mind and heart always turned to things on the inside. As inadequate as I felt, home was my refuge … my family, my tribe. So, before heading to the office each day, I always tried to stop and see what tiny Mitch was going to pack. Each day his collection of treasures was different, each day a unique expression of his lovely heart. I often imagined what treasures he carried with him had to say about his state of mind. One thing is for sure, he was a tender, sweet child. I miss this little boy’s tender soul.
Natalie would often place a secret note for Mitch and our other kids in their backpacks before 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, these little notes would become 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 could only imagine what it meant to our kids. I love her for that.
At about the same time I took this photo, I had taken Mitch to work with me. Here’s what I wrote in 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 [can be] of his surroundings and how careful he is not to be disruptive. I suppose keeping him at an office for hours at a time is not very fun. But 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 – for that is all we really carry with us in life, and beyond.
Like my son, I have a backpack of treasures I always carry with me, only it cannot be seen with the eyes and instead it’s felt with the heart. That backpack is filled to the brim with love and treasured memories. Filled to overflowing.
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