Spring Will Come

This past week has been my Spring Break, and it has been lovely.  Without going away on a big trip, I was able to make new and beautiful memories, relax, distract myself from grief, and even laugh a little.

I went to Starved Rock with my mom and sister for a girls getaway.  We hiked, jogged, slept, had massages, and enjoyed each other.  Jeremiah and I went to the Art Institute to see some of Matt's favorite paintings in the new modern wing.  We had drinks at the Palmer House afterwards.  We went antiquing, out for great dinners, for a long bike ride past my childhood home (and I held it together), and got into a new show.  I had dinner in the city at RPM, where I have been wanting to go for so long, with two of my best girls.  We talked about frivolous, fun, and easy things for two hours and I felt like my old self, for that short amount of time.  Matt's school, the Dayton Flyers, miraculously made it to the Elite 8.  There was something so sweet in thinking that he was cheering them on from heaven.  Jer and I saw my sister play principal clarinet for Rockford Symphony, and the evening featured songs from Oscar-nominated movies.  It was wonderful.  I started listening to music again on my runs.  Today, I even made it through a Dave and a Michael Jackson song.  Dave and MJ were two of Matt's most favorite artists.  This spring break was exactly what the doctor ordered...

However my actual doctor, my fertility specialist, has ordered something that has my mind battling fear, my soul feeling uneasy, and my heart grasping for hope.  On Monday, I heard some frightening words.

"Premature ovarian failure"
"Diminished ovarian reserve"
"Your age is what you have going for you.  If you were older, we would recommend an egg donor."
"Typically I don't like to give my patients twins, but in your case it would be best.  We might not be able to do this again in a few years." 
"The quality of your eggs could be poor.  That might be why they are not implanting."  

IVF, or in vitro fertilization is the new strategy, or treatment that our doctor has told us is going to be the next step.  I feel afraid, to be completely honest.  I'm afraid of new and higher dosages of medicines.  I'm afraid of disappointment.  I'm afraid that I won't ever be able to feel the wonder of pregnancy.  I fear that joy, real joy, won't return to our lives.

However, I know that I can't live in fear.  I couldn't live in fear of Matt's addiction.  I obsessed for eight months, and that obsessing helped neither him nor I.  Now he is gone, and the worry did nothing.  The only thing I could do to help Matt was to love him.  There is a lesson for me in the loss of my brother.  Worry and fear simply do not help our situations.  Worry and fear cause us to live the pain before it actually happens, to live it twice.  God does not want us to live in fear.

One of the most well known bible verses is from Psalms.  Verse 23:4 says:

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me."

Instead of living in worry and fear, I must use every ounce of my mental energy, all of my reserves, to instead live in hope.

Hope comes to us in small ways, little answered prayers, signs from God...my Christmas ornament that says "hope" still hanging on our desk, cardinals at my bird feeder, a peaceful dream about my brother, job interviews for Jer, a girlfriend telling me she dreamt I was pregnant, a blessed and happy week off, Easter, and Spring.  

Spring will come.  With this new a beautiful season, I pray that we will continue to find more joy, renewed hope, peace in trusting God beyond our own understanding, and that fear will fade.  As the sun's rays warm our faces and brighten our world, and the dark days of winter are in the past, fear will no longer be welcome in our home, our days, and our lives.

 

Answered Prayer

"God, please, please...can you please grant me a peaceful dream about my brother tonight?  Please let me see Matt in a way that will calm my heart."

Matt has been gone now for five months.  Every night, I have prayed to have a soothing dream about him, to hear his voice, see his blue eyes, talk to him...to be reassured that he is ok.  I am able to suppress the trauma and fear that is associated with addiction for the majority of my days, but it seems to come forth full force in my sleep.

I have had extremely frightening and disturbing dreams about my beautiful little brother during these past months following his death.  They leave me reeling, and make the early morning hours that much more difficult to face.

Several weeks ago, I decided that I had had enough.  Why couldn't I ask for something better?  Many of my loved ones have had dreams of Matt dancing, at Wrigley Field, hanging out with Jesus, peaceful and happy.  I wanted it to be my turn.  Each night, as I put my book on the bedside table, turn off the light, and settle under my blankets, I find myself practically begging God to let me have time with Matt.

Last night, after weeks of fervent prayer, God granted me my wish.

I dreamt that I was at school, teaching as if it were a normal day.  I knew that something exciting was coming, but I didn't know what it was.  Suddenly, at my classroom door, Matt appeared.  Jeremiah had brought him to me.  I cannot fully describe the peace that surrounded Matt, but he was clearly not afflicted by any sort of addiction or pain.  He had a sense of calm, but also happiness.

He was in his jeans, a checkered shirt, his eyes were clear, and his hair was done the way he wore it before he went away to law school.  He was smiling.  He let me hug him repeatedly, and then hold his arm and put my hand on his chest.  He let me hold on to him, and I know that he was laughing.  I can't recall the words that we exchanged, but he knew how much I loved him, and how happy I was to see him.

Matt then let me introduce him to some of my most important people at work; my teammate Kelly and her husband Ralph, and my other teammate Jessica.  They were beaming at him.  Kelly told him that it was an honor to meet him.  

I don't remember how the dream ended, but I am ok with that.  I woke up suddenly at 11:15, and knew with certainty that God had answered my prayer.  I dreamt about Matt in a way that made me feel peaceful, and allowed me to be with him again.

Is there significance behind the details of this dream?  I am certainly not one to interpret, or put meaning into the our everyday dreams.  This one however, was different to me.

Three years ago, Matt did visit my classroom.  He came to meet my students, and talk to them about the importance of following their dreams.  He read the "The Salt In His Shoes", the story about Michael Jordan as a child, showed them his academic and varsity letters from high school and newspaper articles written about him for basketball, and talked about how he would be going to law school in the fall.  It was the second to last day of school, and I was trying to find ways to fill the hours.  Matt loved kids, and I knew he would get a kick out of meeting my 4th graders.

We had the most wonderful time, and I was so proud to have him visit me.  I remember introducing him to my friends in the teacher's lounge, and the way in which he charmed them in only an introduction. The kids were in love with him.  It was a special day for me, for both of us.  The dream reminded me of those precious hours.

Jeremiah has had to "talk me off the ledge" numerous times over the loss of Matt.  He has been the one to remind me of the deliverance of Matt from pain and addiction.  He has held me and comforted me.  He has distracted me from my pain by finding simple ways to bring joy into our life.  He has encouraged me to look for joy despite my pain.  In the dream, him bringing Matt to me in a peaceful and happy state is very appropriate.  He has "brought Matt to me" in that light through our numerous conversations.

Finally, my teammates and dear friends Kelly and Jessica, have seen me almost every day since I have lost my brother.  The only other person who has spent that much time with me is my husband. Because of this, they have witnessed the progression of my grief, but also learned about Matt without ever knowing him.  They have supported and loved me as I have navigated this very rocky path of recovering a significant loss.

I have often wished that they could have spent time with Matt, or even a few moments, as by loving me so sweetly, they have loved him.  I have wanted them to know the person they were helping me to grieve for.  In my dream, they were finally able to meet him.  It reminded me that as my life progresses, others can meet my larger-than-life brother through my memories and stories of him, and through the similarities that he and I shared....we had so many.

The most important lesson in this beautiful dream lies not in the dream itself, but in the answer of my prayer.  I have a somewhat extensive list of requests that I bring to God on a daily basis lately, some of them have been going on for quite some time.  Last night, He reminded me that He will answer prayers, but on His time and in His way.  This small request of a special dream being granted reminded me to be hopeful in the knowledge that God is present in my life, loving and caring for me, and listening to desires and wishes of my heart.

I woke up this morning with a newfound hope and peace.  I saw my brother happy, healthy, and living.  I was reminded that God is listening to my whispers, pleading, hoping, and wishing.  Today, for first time in many mornings, I have excitement about what He will do next.

June, 2011 - Matt visits the 4th Grade

The Little Things

My brother Matt was 27, a law student at Dayton University, a lover of basketball, the Cubs, his family and friends, and he knew and loved the Lord.  These are some of the few facts that were shared about Matthew in his obituary.  While those sentiments are true and lovely, and the picture of him was so handsome, his person, his being was so much more.  

Matt was something special to each of us, but in his own way.  The way that I loved Matt is different from the way my mom loved him, how his friends knew him, how his teammates viewed him, his classmates perceived him, etc.  We all have a different perspective on his life.  Each of us could contribute special memories, anecdotes, or insight into his short but beautiful life.

While Matt was not perfect (none of us are) he certainly was a force.  When he walked into the room, his presence filled it.  He was funny, intelligent, handsome, loud, extreme, loving, powerful, opinionated...he was our Matt.

However, these sentiments about Matt, that so many of us share are very "big" statements.

"He was hilarious."
"He made everything fun."
"He was a risk-taker."
"He loved his family more than anything." 

After awhile, these "big" statements will start to sound cliche.  What I miss now are the things about Matt that made him different from everyone else.  We all have these traits, characteristics, mannerisms, tendencies, etc.  I miss Matt and his uniqueness and the little things.

*Years ago, my sister gave him a Bonsai tree for his apartment.  He loved it.  He did such a good job taking care of it, that it multiplied and needed to be re-potted to bigger and bigger pots.  It eventually ended in a pot that was so big that it needed a little cart with wheels so that it could be transported.  Matt put his Teenage Mutant Ninja turtles in the dirt of the pot.  There, his childhood toys were, fighting it out beneath his ridiculously monstrous Bonsai tree.  He was a man-child.

*I loved going to Matt's basketball games, especially when he was in college.  I was so proud of him.  I can still see him standing and facing the flag for the national anthem.  He would stand with his hands clasped behind his back and sway his hips from side to side, almost like a bell.  He really wanted to jump up and down, get going, and get the game started, but instead he had to sway from side to side.  Matt was "jacked up" about everything in his life.

*He was obsessed with Michael Jackson.  In 2009, when MJ died, Matt watched the entire funeral coverage from beginning to end.  He made us listen to Michael that whole summer.  When he went to see "This Is It" in the theaters, he cried a little.  I very clearly remember him dancing to "Heal the World" with the dog in the living room that July of 2009.  He loved to dance, and Michael Jackson was the master at it.

*Matt was pretty mad when he found out that he wasn't going to be Jeremiah's best man in our wedding.  He didn't understand that Jeremiah actually had a best friend, who he had known for much longer than Matt that had clearly earned the spot of best man.  Matt thought that being the bride's brother entitled him to be best man.  We had to explain to him that it did not, and as a consolation, I made him an arm band with BB (best brother) and a lightning bolt on it.  Thank goodness he didn't wear the arm band over his tux jacket at the wedding.  He really did believe that family "trumped" everything.

*Matt was extreme at everything.  He fell out of trees, broke his wrist multiple times snowboarding, jumped out of our treehouse onto the trampoline, rode his bike off the pier into the pond, fell on his head doing a slam dunk, tried to max out the speedometer on his car, rode a mountain bike down the ski hills in Vail, he and his friends burned matching marks into their arms...the list goes on and there are surely more examples and it is better that we do not know them.

*Matt was obsessed with Christmas.  He played the Charlie Brown Christmas album on repeat, decorated his bedroom with white lights, saved all of his birthday money from his December 19th birthday to buy presents that he thought were better and more thoughtful than anyone else's, wore Christmas socks, and sang the loudest at Christmas Eve candlelight service.  Christmas will always remind me of him.

*He was an organizer.  He put together Kentucky Derby trips, limos to DMB concerts, Hawaiian luaus in our backyard, bonfires, birthday parties, and a multitude of parties just for the sheer excuse of having a good time and being together.

*Matt thought he could rap.  In Mr. Mustang, the high school's male "beauty pageant", he rapped the segment that was meant to be a letter to his parents.

In late December, back in 1985, my parents Tom and Kim were blessed with a surprise.  In the form of a gigglin' dribblin' little baby...and let me tell you man, this kid he was crazy! 

*He called me sis, Julia Corning (my maiden name) when he was annoyed with me, Gia, Ju-ju, and Jules.

*Our song was by Mr. Big, "To Be With You".  I don't know why.  We must have danced together to it once, and ever after that he said it was our song.

*When we were kids, one day I came home from school and my mom informed me that I was absolutely not allowed to go in Matt's room.  He needed some alone time.  Matt had found every outrageous pink item of clothing that was available to him, and was trying it on.  Of course I disobeyed my mom and snuck a peek.  At the moment that I found him, he was wearing a pink snowsuit and a pink tutu.  He had two older sisters, and wanted to see what all the fuss was.  It turns out, it wasn't that interesting, and only lasted for an afternoon.  He went back to trucks, GI Joe, guns made out of legos, and basketball the next day.  He was a true guys-guy.

As his oldest sister, I adored my baby brother.  I held him gently and kissed his face when he was a baby, called him Mattie-fattie and pinched his cheeks when he was a toddler, locked him in the basement as his babysitter when he was in elementary school, ignored him when he was in middle school, was one of his biggest fans in the bleachers when he was in high school, partied with him when he was in college, and was one of his best friends as he became an adult.

My memories of Matt are mine.  These are the moments, the times, the character traits of him that made him Matt to me.  No one else is part of him and I dancing and singing Mr. Big to each other at my wedding.  No one was there when I wrapped my arms around him and told him that no matter how mad he was, I knew that he would never hurt me, and that I was going to hold on to him until he agreed to go to rehab.  I am the one who stood by his side when we went to get him 60 days later and held his arm, I didn't care who wanted to hug him good-bye.  Only Matt knows the words we exchanged as he was in recovery, my fear, his pain, my unconditional love for him.  Thank God that I told him.

These memories of Matt, the things that made him who he was, the real memories...they are priceless.  They are real, and true, and good.  There was a richness to our life as a family that will never go away.

The lyrics to a song by Passenger have brought me to tears, have comforted me, and have reminded me of a simple truth;

If we had not had Matthew in our lives, each and every one of us, our life would not be as full as it is now.  The pain of losing him is worth the beauty that we had.  Our memories may be varied and special to us as individual family members and friends, but they are the story of our lives...of his life.

Well you only need the light when it's burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low
Only hate the road when you’re missin' home
Only know you love her when you let her go
And you let her go

Listen to Passenger here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PrGq-pSvZg8

Joy is Everlasting

"Please pray for me that I find joy," my friend Sally said.  "Help me to learn that the joy of the Lord is everlasting, and the negatives of life are temporary." 

I know that God puts people in our life at certain times, for certain reasons.  Cliches and phrases about addiction, grief, and fertility struggles have filled my ears these past five months.

It will take time.
Take it one day at a time.
He is in a better place.
Try not to worry.
Let go and let God.
God has a plan for you.  
Trust His timing.

Sometimes, those words are helpful.  Some of them, I find myself saying.  However, it is rare that someone's words truly soothe my saddened and worried soul.  My friend Sally from Bible study, asking us to pray for her to find joy in the midst of her grief, and the way in which she described joy as being eternal, was exactly what I needed to hear on Tuesday night.

On Tuesday night, God told me to get out from under my pink afghan, take off my sweatpants, comb my hair, and drive the five minutes to Bible study so that I could hear Sally's words.  I certainly didn't want to, but He gave me the motivation, knowing that I desperately needed to be reminded of the source of our joy.

The truth is that lately, I have been overwhelmingly sad.  I miss my little brother so much that sometimes I find myself denying that he is gone.  I am hurting over another failed IUI.  My sister's heart is broken by a man, therefore causing me to worry and have a broken heart for her.  My husband is having a difficult time at work, and I so want him to be happy.  My parents are looking for a new home; their current house is the last place that we were a family together...Matt is everywhere there.  These things are just sad.

BUT, Sally's words reminded me that there is something more, something better for me, for all of us.  I had forgotten.  This is the saddest time of my life.  In my 33 years, I have never ached, or hurt so badly.  However, I have hurt before.

I was sad when my heart was broken for the first time.  I was sad when I failed my first math class in college.  I was sad when I lost my first job.  I was sad when my favorite uncle took his life.  I was sad when my beloved grandma, and then grandfather went to Heaven.  I was sad when we had to put my darling dog to sleep.  I was sad when I fought with my husband.  I was sad when I fell and scraped my knee.  I was even more sad when I caught my finger in a door of the locker room and missed Family Swim.  I was sad when we moved towns and I had to say good-bye to my friends.  I was even more sad when I graduated college and had to say good-bye to better friends.  I was heartbroken when I had to tell my brother that he had to leave our home and go to rehab.

Matt was sad when he was alone in his apartment, and couldn't say no to the power of his addiction.

But Matt is not sad anymore.  Matt is eternally happy and he was from the moment that he closed his eyes, Jesus picked him up in His arms, told him that he was safe, and took Matthew home.

Some of our sadness will leave us when we are here on this earth.  I'm no longer sad about my sweet dog, Tyler.  My finger and my knee have long since healed.  I am forever friends with the girls that I temporarily said good-bye to in May of 2003.  I graduated college, despite being terrible at math, and I have a job at a really great school, teaching the hilarious age of 5th grade.  My husband and I always make-up after we fight, and if I hadn't had my heart broken the first time, I never would have met him.  I still miss my grandma, my grandpa, and my uncle, but I have peace in knowing that I will see them in Heaven.

Joy has come despite those hurts.  Sometimes, it took a little longer, but there has been healing. In some circumstances, joy can only come again in the arms of God.  We have the promise that we will find joy again; here on this earth but also that there will be more joy than we can ever imagine in Heaven.

Am I sad now?  Yes.  Sometimes it is debilitating.  I don't know if the loss of my brother will ever truly stop hurting while I am here on this earth.  I can only imagine the joy that I will feel when I see him again.

The week that we lost Matt, I took Leo for a run down to my favorite spot at Lake Michigan.  I could hear Matt.

"Come on Jules, let him off the leash."

I did, and Leo ran right to the water. As he ran and played, and brought me sticks, I started crying and talking to Matt.  I told him how much I missed him, how I loved him so, how scared I was, how heartbroken we all were.

God gave me a clear vision of Matt that day, to replace the angst, and memories of him sick.  Down by the lake that day, I could see Matt with his clear blue eyes, a plaid shirt and jeans, flip flops, and his hands shoved in his pockets.  He was smiling.

"I know sis.  It's ok.  I'm sorry sis.  I'm ok.  I love you sis.  I know sis," I heard him say.

God gave me that vision of Matt, and those words that he would say, to remind me that he had given Matt the pure joy that he was no longer having here on this earth.

God will give us pure joy again, I know He will.  This time, it might take a little longer.  Someday, I will be able to wrap my arms around Matt, and he will tell me those words I heard by the lake, but I will really hear them from his mouth.

"I know sis.  It's ok.  I'm sorry sis.  I'm ok.  I love you sis.  I know, sis."

Here on earth, I have God talking to me.

"I will take care of you.  It will be ok.  I love you.  You will see him again.  Until then, look for joy.  It will come."  

The joy of the Lord is everlasting, and my sadness will heal.