I Am A Friend Of Bob

I spent most of today in the ER waiting room at Johnston Willis Hospital.

My friend Bob..........................

 ~~~~~~~

I find it difficult to finish that sentence. It's incomplete.

And yet it's full of life and potent and memorable, larger than you can imagine, clever and profound.

My friend Bob is amazingly funny.

My friend Bob has an awesome wife, and together they have a marriage that inspires and encourages me.

My friend Bob is the best friend my husband Tony has in this town.

My friend Bob turned me on to some awesome Bruce Hornsby music. And then my friend Bob and I went with our spouses to see Hornsby in concert. And it was brilliant.

My friend Bob has a voice that calls down angels, even when he is simply speaking.

My friend Bob plays and sings like a man who's been to hell and came back to tell us about the grace that brought him home. 'Cause that's what happened.

My friend Bob loves me, and he tells me so.

My friend Bob prays for me every single day.

My friend Bob introduced me to my friend Bobby and his beautiful wife Kathleen. 

My friend Bob is the connecting point for more people than I can count, most of whom are fascinating in their own right.

And today, in that waiting room, the traffic pattern ebbed and flowed but it stayed constant. We were friends of Bob, and if we didn't know each other to start with, we did within moments. And we were friends of Bob and friends of one another.

My friend Bob rode in an ambulance to the hospital today. The cancer that seized his body is roaming freely now, and there's little anyone can do to contain its appetite.

(I hate cancer.)

But what is intended for evil can be turned to good. We gather, the friends of Bob, whether together in person or in spirit, and we see how great the power of love can be.

It's amazing.

Even now, as I write to process my thoughts and feelings, I hear my husband in another room, playing his guitar. He is processing his thoughts and feelings, too.

I hear the chord changes and the words, though unsung, ring through my head and my heart. I know this song. I hear him.

You stay the same through the ages / Your love never changes
There may be pain in the night but joy comes in the morning
And when the oceans rage / I don't have to be afraid
Because I know that you love me
Your love never fails
You make all things work together for my good
You make all things work together for my good
You make all things work together for my good 
You make.....

Over and over, the bridge lyric resounds. All things for good.

I believe it. In the midst of the tears, and the sobs that choke in my throat and the grief that hovers like a cloud around my boots, I believe it. It spite of what's coming, I believe it. In the face of certain sorrow, I believe it. I know this is true.

Brian and I were with Bob early this afternoon. Wrapped in a flimsy hospital gown, oxygen flowing through his nostrils, blood caked around his lips and the tumor in his mouth, he grimaced.

"You're not feeling too good, are you?" Brian asked

Bob looked up at us and said two words.

"I'm ready."

(all things work together for my good)

Brian took a breath. "But what if we're not ready, Bob?"

He looked up again. I expected tears, a moment of power, a quote from scripture. His chapped, cracked lips parted and Bob spoke to us.

"Then you need to get over yourself."

(all things work together for my good)

I am sad, my heart is heavy. This day, combined with other sorrows that I know of that bring difficult days and nights to friends far and near - the burden of life itself feels overwhelming. I shook my fist at the sky today and said, "Dear God, if this is ministry - if this is what I have signed up for - I. DON'T. LIKE. IT. This is HARD!"

All things work together for my good. Life is hard. And it is, exactly and perfectly, what I am called to.

Live.

All things work together. For our good.

And I need to get over myself.

I love you, Bob Pino.

Amen.