Tribute to my sister

Amy was the youngest of the four children, and the only daughter. This was never really fair to her because we actually remembered all of the weird things that she did as a kid. For example, did you know that Amy had an extra bone in her foot? She was quite proud of that and if you were anywhere near her the day that she found out, I’m sure you would have heard her announce to anyone who was listening, “I can’t believe I have an extra bone in my foot!” I remember her alter-ego, Molly, showing up from time to time when she was very young too. Mom would tell Amy that it was time for her nap, and Amy would go away, but on a pair of plastic glasses and this fur coat that she had. She would come out and tell us that she was now Molly, and Molly didn’t have to take naps. Even into adulthood, we would still tease her about the year that she was old enough to realize what April Fool’s Day was about. We were going around making jokes all day, and Amy decided to join in. So she walked up to my dad and told him, “Hey Dad-- there’s a spider on your teeth!” I remember looking at her and thinking, “that is the dumbest April Fool’s joke I have ever heard.” And as we grew older, our conversations with her and my brothers always seemed to involve lines from movies that we watched when we were young or lines from Seinfeld.

Amy’s diagnosis came out of left field. The odds of developing breast cancer at age 25 is very remote. The odds of having two siblings have similar sicknesses so young are also very remote. I’m not sure why God allows things like this to happen. But I do know that Amy has said before that her relationship with God and her faith in God became stronger throughout all of this. And even as I am typing this out, I am realizing that maybe that is one reason God allowed it. Our family grew up going to church. Amy accepted Jesus as her Savior when she was very young. But I know that her faith really took roots when she was diagnosed. There were times that she would post an update on her website and I would read it and think, “Wow, did that really come from Amy?” It was really exciting for me to see her grow into a such a godly woman. She told me several times that she was determined to control what she could control and leave the rest up to God. She decided early on that she was going to have a good attitude about all of this and keep her sense of humor. And the result was that Amy became a very influential person to a lot of people--without even leaving her living room. There were many times that she would get bad news from the doctor and I would want to hear it from her, because I needed reassurance that it was going to be ok. She definitely has the family stubborn streak in her, which came in handy when fighting this. She never let this sickness stop her. She went on vacations, walked a 5k on her 30th birthday last September and went Christmas tree shopping with us in December even though she was not feeling well at all that day.

Many of you only knew the “sick” Amy. But I knew her as a sister, a friend, a big goofball and more. Amy is my hero. I want to be just like her when I grow up. There is a quote that I have always liked and tried to live by. But I think Amy did it well. I have heard this quoted many different ways, so I might not get it perfect, but the quote is from St. Francis of Assisi. It says to preach always. And if necessary, use words.

I can’t even begin to imagine the reunion that took place last Saturday between her and Jeff. That night the whole family came to my parents’ house. I was talking to my 11 year old nephew Nathan-- one of Jeff’s sons. We were talking about what we thought that his dad and Amy were doing right now. I sent a text out to a bunch of my friends asking them the same question. And we asked the same question at the calling hours yesterday. We got some really good answers and I would like to share some of them.

I think they are doing all the fun stuff you can think of

I think that Jeff and Amy are enjoying fellowship together. I envision Jeff was waiting at the gate for her and showed her all around heaven. Most of all, he introduced her to Jesus.

I picture Jeff making his patented chocolate chip cookies and Amy making and decorating a cake. Then a food fight breaking out. If that’s even allowed in heaven. I’m sure it is.

I think they are hugging each other and saying, “I missed you!”

I think Amy and Jeff are playing corn hole against God and Jesus, and God and Jesus keep winning, but remain humble and don’t rub it in.

Smiling

Amy and Jeff are eating 88 crackers… and not getting in trouble for it.

They are laughing at Tommy’s jokes.

Eating lots of jelly bellies…at least that’s what I would do

I think they are playing jokes on Peter and Paul and laughing and singing and dancing with Jesus.

I think Amy is watching a movie in a big comfy chair.

They are probably pranking people with a fart machine

I don’t know, but I hope there are donuts in heaven. That would be the life-- eating them all day with family

Amy is baking cookies for everyone and Jeff is trying to sneak some of the cookie dough

I think they are dancing with Jesus and happy to be free of pain

Whatever they are doing, I bet they are having a great time and wouldn’t want to come back to earth because heaven is so darn good.

And one of my favorites . . . I bet they looked at each other and said, “I love your hair!”

Some of those are kind of a stretch, but it really is exciting to think about them reuniting and seeing Jesus. Four years ago, I stood on this same stage and read tributes from the family about Jeff. And Amy’s words at the end of her tribute said that “Jeff has helped me get on my feet to learn how run this race, and when I finish, I know he will be one of the first to greet me with that big bright smile. Until then, I will persevere, and I pray I can do it as courageously as Jeff. I will look forward to the day that my Big Brother meets me at the gates, and introduces me to my Heavenly Father.” I think she did persevere, and I think she did it well.

Ya’ done good, Amy. I’ll see you later.

Dance!

I saw the coolest thing the other day at the store. A little boy, about ten years old, was there with his mom. A song came on the store sound system, and the kid looked at his mom and said "Mom! I gotta take these boots off!"

His mom asked why, and he said "So I can dance!"

If I could go back, I would tell him to never lose that.

Cool kid!

Tears from Heaven

It’s Christmas season, right? And many people, including me, have heard the Christmas story hundreds of times growing up in the church. Even if you aren’t someone who regularly attends church or anything, you are probably somewhat familiar with the story-- that Jesus was born to Mary and Joseph in Bethlehem.

For me, its easy to gloss over the details of the story and think that I’ve heard this so many times that I don’t need to hear it again.

But I heard something interesting about this story today. It’s seems so obvious that I don’t know why it never occurred to me before. Did you ever think about the fact that the first sound that Jesus probably made on earth was a cry? Since the Bible implies that Jesus was a normal baby (except for his divine nature), doesn’t it make sense that Jesus cried when he was born?

Way back in the day, before Jesus was born, the way that God spoke to people was through people called prophets. God would give them a message to tell the people, and they would all know that God spoke. But then there was this period of time that there were no prophets. God seemed to be silent. This went on for about 400 years. And then, one night, that silence was broken by the sound of God again. And that sound was him crying!

And I guess I thought this was interesting because of the difficulties that I have had in my own life over the past several years. It just seems like I go from one crisis to another. I have had to deal with some pretty major, life altering situations recently. Hasn’t really been fun. And it’s easy to look at those things and wonder if anyone can really understand what I have been through. Does God exist within my own suffering? What am I supposed to do with this?

But when you think that the first thing that God did when he entered this earth was cry, it gives me some hope. Maybe we are more like God than we realize when are having a hard time with things. Maybe he is closer than we realize when we are upset. He does know what it’s like to cry-- he’s been there too!

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” (The words of Jesus as recorded in the Bible, in the 5th chapter of the book of Matthew)

The Biggest Spider I Have Ever Seen . . . (updated)

. . . was in my bathroom this morning. Just sayin' . . .

Wait... there's more! I let this guy outside. Didn't feel right just killing him. But two days later, there was another spider just like him, back in my bathroom. Was he the same one? I don't know. But it felt like Saving Private Ryan, when they let the guy go instead of killing him. But in the end, the guy comes back.

(The first spider pictured was actually the second spider. The second spider was the first one I found. I couldn't figure out how to position those right. Either that or I just didn't want to take the time to figure it out!)

Set Me Free!

My brother Jeff, part 1

Today is September 30.

It has been four years since I lost my brother.

I still remember that day pretty clearly. Most of it, at least.

It was a Saturday. I don't remember what I did during the day, but late that afternoon, my mom called me and told me that I needed to come see Jeff. The doctors had said that this would be his last night. I think I knew that this day could be coming, but I don't I ever seriously thought it could actually happen. I mean, this is the kind of thing that happens to other people, but not to my family.

Was my brother really going to die tonight?

What is that going to be like?

What's going to happen?

Will I get there in time?

What happens next?

Is this really happening?

Is this for real?

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

When I got to the Hospice facility that Jeff was living at, my parents where there with Gwen (Jeff's wife) and their three kids. Tommy and Amy and their families were coming up too, but hadn't gotten there yet. We all got to sit around his bed and just talk and laugh (yes, we laughed) and just prepared ourselves for what we hoped would not happen. We played music (music that still reminds me of that night when I hear it) for Jeff that we knew he liked. I think we were all in shock and horror at what we were experiencing. And sure enough, at 9:40 pm, Jeff breathed his last breath. I watched my brother pass from this life on to the next. It was the single most powerful moment of my life.

That week was just surreal. We all took the week off from our jobs and prepared for the funeral. Calling hours were kind of exhausting (there were soooo many people who came out) but they were actually kind of fun. Just like Jeff would have wanted it, I'm sure. The funeral was weird. Everyone said it was a great funeral, as far as funerals go. But I found myself several times just sort of taking a mental step backwards and asking myself, "Is this for real? Is that really my brother in the casket in front of me? Am I really up on stage speaking at my brother's funeral?" At the end of the funeral the preacher asked the family to leave first. I couldn't believe that I actually qualified to leave for that. I mean, that must mean that this is MY family involved. Moments like that still stick with me.

It is still kind of weird to go the cemetery and see Jeff's grave. It took a while before he actually had a headstone at his grave. And the first time I saw it in place it was kind of like a punch in the gut. I saw his name there. It was for real. And not only was his name there, but it was MY name too. That was MY last name staring at me. That last name should not be at the cemetery. Jeff should be at his house with Gwen and the kids. I wanted to yell at him to wake up and go home! Jeff, what are you doing here? We need you back!

I guess over time you do get used to the fact that someone is gone. Not that you like it or even get over it. But you accept it and try to move forward. But as time goes on I realize how much I feel like we all lost. Jeff really was a good guy. I know that everyone says that when someone dies, but honestly, he was. I don't even remember Jeff ever getting in trouble when he was a kid. Everyone liked him. I still run into some of Jeff's former students (he was a sixth grade teacher for a long time) who say that he was their favorite teacher ever. I miss having a brother like that. I miss sharing my life with his. I miss having someone looking out for me like that in a way that only a brother can do.

I don't know if I really have a point in all this. I just felt like sharing it. And since it's my blog... I can do that.



I want to share a couple of things that some of you may have already read. I wrote both of these some time ago, but I want to post them here in honor of today.

The first is the tribute that I wrote and read at the funeral.

The second is something that I wrote about two years later.

They are both posted below.

Jeff, part 2

This was read at Jeff's funeral

Jeff and I were constant playmates growing up. Looking through some old photos this week, it was fun to think back on all of the things that we used to do together. We used to build tents in the living room and play all day in it. He was always organizing some kind of baseball tournament for us all to play in in the back yard. We traded baseball cards and planned surprise parties for our parents. I used to love emptying out our toy box and spend time playing inside of the toy box itself. One of my favorite pictures of the two of us is one where we were both sitting on the kitchen floor and we were eating the rest of the cake batter in the bowl. I wasn’t even two years old then, so Jeff was feeding me the chocolate and we both had it all over our faces.

Because of his unique sense of humor, Jeff had a way of coming across very serious and then hilarious all at the same time. Sometimes when he would tell a story you never knew if he was serious or not until he delivered a punch line at the end. He had a way of doing or saying something unexpected at just the right moment to make me laugh. I can remember when we were younger, going out to play in the snow. While Tommy and I were building snowmen, Jeff made a full size snow sculpture of a toilet. We both attended Malone College and had a couple of classes together. In the one class, we had a professor who didn’t like us to be distracted and got upset if we weren’t paying attention. Of course, Jeff would try his hardest to make me laugh in that class, and would always reach over and write things on my notes. There were times in that class when I heard very little of what was being taught because I was concentrating on not laughing for the whole hour. Jeff had a remote controlled fart machine that he loved to use on people and make them wonder what was going on. As recently as last week, he would ask it to be placed under his bed so it could be set off when the nurses would come check on him. Even up to the very end, he kept his sense of humor.

As my older brother, Jeff was always looking out for me too. In college when I was taking calculus and realized that I was in over my head, there were several times that I would call him to help me understand what I was trying to do. And the one time after he helped me, he even gave me a couple of dollars so that my friends and I could go out and buy donuts, since he knew I had no money. A couple of years ago, my car broke down and I again had no money. When he found out, he actually gave me one of his cars– to keep. And again, as recently as last week, he wanted to make sure that I knew that I could drive one of his cars if mine ever broke down. A couple of months ago I went through some of his computer files to try to find all of his website updates. One file that I pulled up ended up being a prayer list that he had saved on his computer. There in the list of things that he was praying for was my name. In the midst of his suffering, Jeff was praying for me. Of course, he wasn’t perfect and didn’t always look out for me. When we were kids and it came to who was going to hang their coat on “the good hanger” or eat cereal with “the good spoon,” it was every man for himself.

Jeff had several passions in his life. He loved to run, he loved to teach, and he loved his family and friends. Throughout Jeff’s illness, he received a lot of support from a lot of people. At one point, after realizing how many people were praying for him and supporting him, he said, “I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but I feel like I am the most loved person in the world. I have a family who loves me, I have friends who love me, and I have a church who loves me.” Jeff knew the value of his family and friends and didn’t take them for granted.

When I think about Jeff being in heaven now, the picture that I have in my head is him running. I know the Bible says that he is doing other things too, but I picture him running. He loved to run. I never heard Jeff complain about his sickness. The closest I heard him come was when he said that he hoped he could run again. As Jeff was breathing his last breaths, Gwen prayed over him Isaiah 40:31 that says that “those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” As soon as we knew that Jeff was gone, someone made the comment that he was running now. The next morning, I went to church. We sang a song called “I Am Free.” It was such an amazing experience to sing that and realize how free Jeff was at that moment. The chorus of the song contains the line “I am free to run,” and was repeated several times. I had never heard that song before, and I claimed it as God’s assurance to me that Jeff was OK, and not only was he free, but he was able to do what he loved to do.

Throughout this past summer, whenever I would visit Jeff, I would always tell him the same thing when I left. I always told him, “I’ll be back to see you again Jeff. I don’t know when for sure, but I’ll see you again.” The one time I told him that, he responded differently than he ever did before. His response was, “Just make sure it’s soon.” It turns out that those were the last words he ever spoke to me. And because of our mutual faith in God, I know that I can still tell him now, “I’ll be back to see you again, Jeff. I don’t know for sure when, but I’ll see you again.” And the first thing I’m going to ask him is “Was it soon enough?”