Today, my firstborn son turns 14! I say it in every birthday post I write, but only because I realize it anew with each passing birthday, so here I go again: It seems like yesterday he was a tiny baby! I can still see his little body swaddled tightly in a baby blanket. Today, he is the same height as his father.
Here is my favorite story about Mitchell:
My dad died suddenly on July 29, 2004, and Mitchell turned two on August 8th. A few weeks after his second birthday, the grief of my dad’s death hit me out of the blue as I was working around the house. I sat down on the side of the bed and wept. Mitch was toddling around the house, and since he was so little, I didn’t think he noticed my tears. I was wrong. He didn’t say much at that time in his life, but he had loud actions. He walked over to the dresser, opened the drawer where Terry kept his handkerchiefs, pulled one out, and handed it up to his distraught mother. I still get misty eyed when I recall it. I took the handkerchief from him, said “Thank you”, and swept him up in my arms. He was the comfort that my aching heart so desperately needed.
Here is Mitch, around age two.
Each of my children has brought me measureless joy in their lives. On that summer day in Kansas, Mitchell brought me measureless comfort, and I shall always be grateful. He still kisses me goodbye, (even in front of his friends) and each evening, he kisses me goodnight.
I pray that whatever the coming years bring to Mitchell, he will always keep that sweet smile and loving heart.
Happy birthday, Mitchell.
I’m so thankful for you.