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I just love Christmas ... I love everything about it. I remember when I first bought this little USB Christmas tree ... Mitch thought it was so cool and he loved to come to the office and see it aglow on my desk. The screen saver (behind the tree) is close to my heart because it reminds me of Mitchell's love of sunsets, cozy atmospheres and his romantic view of the holidays. To him, he looked forward to giving gifts to others then snuggling up in a warm and cozy home with the people he loved. That's all I want to do anymore: give and love.

I thought I lost this tree a year ago, but Natalie recently found it buried under other Christmas decorations. Today, when I look at this little tree I think of Mitch and the beautiful gift he was and remains in my life. Despite the heartache that comes and goes like an evening tide, I am overwhelmed with gratitude. Though painful, I wouldn't trade the gift of Mitch for anything.

I just hope one night I can see my son in my dreams so I can tell him how much he mattered to me and how very much I love him.

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We sat in the upper level of Shriners Hospital waiting our turn to visit with the orthotics department. From a distance, I saw Ethan and Mitch whispering in the corner of a vast open space designed to let children play. I could tell by the looks on their faces these young boys were conspiring to have fun. A few moments later I saw Ethan sit on a scooter and Mitch started pushing him with his electric chair. They both laughed and laughed as they scurried about the hardwood floor, sometimes at exhilarating speeds.

Along the wall of this open corridor, I saw a chalkboard where a young child wrote, “I’m sad.” I’ll post that photo in another story about suffering. As I read that simple phrase, clearly written by young hands, I began to cry for that mystery child. My heart broke and I wished I could share a portion of my own health and give it to others in need, including my son. I would have given my life to save my son.

“So, when I seem to struggle or get lost and can’t find my way, I stop to catch my breath … then find someone I can serve that day. It doesn’t take much to turn a bad day around – if I can help someone in need and my heart goes from lost, to suddenly found.”

— Christopher M. Jones | Mitchell's Journey

As I turned attention back Mitch and Ethan, my eyes began to dry and my heart was filled with gratitude. Though life can seem cruel at times, I saw evidence of heaven’s hand right before me. My eyes began to see the tender mercy these two boys were to each other. In that moment, I knew that while God wouldn’t remove Mitchell’s hardship, He sent Ethan to help ease the way.

Mitch was about to endure a great inconvenience. Within a few hours, he would have both legs placed in cast for a few weeks. These casts were shaped in such a way to stretch his heel cords – which stretching would help keep him walking a little longer. However, just a few short months from this photo Mitch would go into catastrophic heart failure – and all that we tried to do to keep him healthy would become painfully irrelevant.

Ethan, knowing his younger brother’s options in life were limited, knew just how to serve him. He always allowed Mitch to wrestle him to the ground and let him win, even though Ethan was much stronger than his younger brother. He helped Mitch build blanket forts when his arms were weak. Sometimes Mitch would sit in the middle of the room with a smile as Ethan built a big pillowy, blankety fort around him. Mitchell’s smile would always grow in proportion to the size of the fort. Though life was difficult, it was also glorious.

Ethan found ways to serve Mitch so he could feel like a healthy child. Ironically, by allowing his older brother to serve him, Mitch was serving Ethan at the same time. When I think back on my own life, not once have I served someone and regretted the decision. In fact, I have always felt more blessed than the person I was trying to serve. Heaven’s paradoxes are as sweet as they are beautiful.

So, when I seem to struggle or get lost and can’t find my way, I stop to catch my breath … then find someone I can serve that day. It doesn’t take much to turn a bad day around – if I can help someone in need and my heart goes from lost, to suddenly found.

That’s the flipside of service: by allowing people to serve us, we are also serving them. The very act of giving can change or heal a heart … times ten.

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The holidays were always Mitchell's favorite time of year. To him, it was a chance to snuggle with mom and dad just a little more, a time to look out the window and watch the snow blow by as the winter wind howled, and it was always a reason to make his favorite hot chocolate.

“May your memories, new or old, be a light to your heart and a warm hearth for your soul.”

— Christopher M. Jones | Mitchell's Journey

Over the years, our family has developed some traditions that have served us well and I want to share them with you. Yes, I carry the weight of grief this holiday, but I am also filled with gratitude for the time I spent doing what mattered most to me ... spending time with my family.

You can read about these traditions under seasonal/merrychristmas!  

I hope by sharing what we have done, you'll have ideas that help you make memories of your own.

To those who struggle with grief, disappointment or discouragement, I care. I know how long and cold the winter nights can feel. May your memories, new or old, be a light to your heart and a warm hearth for your soul.

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NOTE: This image is a preview from a Christmas video we're going to have ready just before the holiday.  I'll keep you posted when that book is available.

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I remember this cold winter night when Natalie tucked our sweet boy in.  Mitch loved to be tucked away before he slept and the closer his tender little life came to the edge of the abyss, he seemed to want that comfort more and more.  I believe part of him, sensing time was short, was afraid of the night – for what if he didn’t wake?  Mitch didn’t want to die; in fact, he very much wanted to live.  Though his muscles were getting weaker and he was able to do less and less, he wanted to hang on to whatever life he could.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, he wasn’t a glass half empty/full person … he was just glad there was something in it.  For Mitch, even the smallest drop in his cup was cause for gratitude.  Oh that I could be a shadow of him.

“The heavenly paradox, I’ve discovered, is when we help others through their troubles we somehow find ourselves helped. That is how we hold our broken pieces together. ”

— Christopher M. Jones | Mitchell's Journey

After talking for a while, Natalie reached over to Mitch and they gave each other a warm embrace.  My heart swelled as I saw these two remarkable souls hold each other as if to say to each other, “I’ll hold your broken pieces.”  Natalie fought valiantly to keep Mitchell’s broken body together while his sweet soul seemed to hold her broken heart and keep it as one. 

There was never a night that little Mitch didn’t get this same hug from his mother.  She was his greatest comfort in life and he loved her so.  Though I tried to be there for my son in every way I knew how, there is simply no equal for a mother’s love.

This photo was taken January 12th, just a few days after we learned his heart was collapsing and that therapies were not working.  He was denied a heart transplant because he had a fatal disease and all we had left was precious time.  We didn’t know how much time – we just knew the end was coming.  Natalie and I cried every night under what felt like an ever blackening sky – for hope had faded like the evening sun.  In the darkness, fear of losing him loomed heavy like a thick fog and we didn’t know where to go or what to do.  We just knelt and prayed for help.

Two weeks later Mitch would be admitted to the ER for end-stage heart failure … and though we already felt broken, we were about to be broken further than we could imagine as we watched our boy slowly die.  Then came grief, which broke our brokenness even more.

My greatest heartache in life was then, and remains today, knowing that we couldn’t save him.  That is a grief of another sort … a grief added to his death.  A grief twice.

Since Mitchell’s passing, Natalie and I have learned how to hold each other’s broken pieces together.  It isn’t always easy, especially when we feel like we’re falling apart ourselves – but we find a way to set aside our sorrows and be there for each other … and that is what makes the difference.  The heavenly paradox, I’ve discovered, is when we help others through their troubles we somehow find ourselves helped.  That is how we hold our broken pieces together.  Mitch was scared, yet he tried to comfort his mom anyway.  In return, he received great spiritual comfort.

I know that Mitch and my Father are holding some of my broken pieces together, pieces unknown to me.  I can sense heaven’s hand in my life – and for that I am grateful.  Though I carry great grief, I also carry gratitude for feelings of peace.