A Time For Everything, Including Some Photos

I kind of, sort of, just don't know what to think today.

I know I wanted to just stay in bed. And that's after crawling into bed about 9:30 last night. I didn't even change clothes...just left a mess in the kitchen, told the kids goodnight and got under the covers.

But staying in bed is boring. And pointless. There is much to do, in spite of the fact that I really don't want to do anything. So: here we go.

After spending some time with Bob Pino's family last night, we have a service order for tomorrow. Bob left some very precise instructions about what he wanted for this day. It's been good to work through how to honor his requests and honor the process. I'm going to spend some time today making sure everything is ready for tomorrow (11:00AM Saturday, February 12, at Powhatan Community Church, 4480 Anderson Highway). It's actually really cool to be executing his planning; feels like a really cool project that we're working on together. We did the same in October for Bob and Jeannie's renewal of their vows, and it was a great service.

And I also have to spend time this morning learning Vince Gill's "Go Rest High On That Mountain", because another family lost a loved one and will gather to mourn his loss this afternoon.  That is their song request. I didn't know this gentleman, but I do know the family, and so Brian and I will be with them this afternoon.

That's really messing with my head today - trying to disassociate from the particulars and simply play my part in what the grief process requires. Working on two separate services for two different men; completely separate experiences, and yet the same loss, the same process. Really reminds me today of the scripture - and the hard reality - that "there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die".

We all meet the same end. And those left behind will mourn. And then carry on. These next 48 hours, I am going to learn new things about how to mourn and carry on. Bottom line, that's a lesson worth learning.

And even thought I didn't want to get out of bed today, I'm up for it. I'm gonna get over myself and get it done. 

Following are a few photos from my files; I know that some of Bob and Jeannie's friends and family are landing on this blog. Just thought you might like to share in some of our memories. These are for you.

With my daughter Sarah; he gave her the privilege of calling him "Poppy", and he called her his Princess.

Sarah had a great photo session with Bob and Jeannie. Love this...

At our wedding in December 2010

Watching our friend Dick take off his belt at our wedding. We laughed about that for a long time; the expression on his face was exactly what he asked later. "What the heck was THAT about?"

Making a toast...

How most of us at PCC remember meeting Bob

Worshiping at PCC in the high school...

Fulfilling My Vows

Listening to the new Jesus Culture cd. It is just what I need today. This passion, the mood, the lyric - everything about it suits me.

God meets us where we are, and gives us what we need.

Here I will bow down / say that I need You
Here I will worship / say how I love You

"Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer. From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the foe. I long to dwell in your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings. For you, God, have heard my vows; you have given me the heritage of those who fear your name. Increase the days of the (my) life, (my) years for many generations. May (I) be enthroned in God's presence forever; appoint your love and faithfulness to protect (me). Then I will ever sing in praise of your name and fulfill my vows day after day." - Psalm 61

I want to know You / let Your spirit overwhelm me
Let Your presence overtake my heart

I Know Someday I Will Be Free

Wow, huh?

If you knew Bob, you know that this is Bob. My friend Connie Kottman sketched this last week. One artist inspiring another; she says it's white on black to symbolize him as a light in the darkness.

This sketch brought back memories for a lot of us. Bob's first appearance on the PCC stage was to sit in this position and share a song. We wanted him to share his testimony, too, but he wouldn't do it.

He did, however, let me do it. We walked out together and he sat down. I introduced him and then shared a few remarks (approved by him, of course) that shed light on his past.

Because he had a past. Bob Pino was living proof of repentance, redemption and restoration.

And then he sang. Bob was always resurrecting these old tunes that carried incredible weight and truth. This was one.

I know someday I will be free
The weight of sin shall be released
But for now He covers me
And though the trials never end
I've learned to take them as my friend
For each day He covers me
-Steve Camp, "He Covers Me"

Oh, yeah, brother. The weight of sin is now released. You are free! I can only imagine...

It's not the same, but you can hear the song here...

Not Church As Usual

I am finding that the best way for me to work through grief is to cry and write, cry and write, play the piano (which makes me cry more), cry and write.

I write here.

So many things, so many emotions. Memories. Thoughts. Under it all, this sense that I almost have no right to be feeling such pain. So many people loved Bob Pino so deeply. His beautiful wife, his sons and daughters, his grandchildren. I almost feel that I am robbing them of their rights and privileges to mourn his loss, should I indulge mine too greatly.

I have no idea how to do this. I look back at other times I have grieved over a death, and I realize that I have never let this sorrow reach into my soul. Which indicates to me that I'm growing. Which is further indication of all that God still has to teach me. Which helps me to see more of what I learned because I was a friend of Bob.

Many months ago, after we knew the cancer was not going to leave, he waved his very detailed plan for his memorial service at me. I ran. Not literally, but close enough. We were in the living room, and I said, "Put that away! I'm not looking at that! You're crazy! I'm not going there!" He emailed it to me later, and I responded with some lame joke about not knowing they had email in heaven because he wasn't dead yet so stop already with the service planning.

He knew that I struggled with my grandmother's passing, that I had regrets about being unable to walk through those last days with her. As much as he could, he coaxed me into places that gently broke those chains. I'm not sure he was always cognizant of what he was doing - if it was deliberate - but he smoothed the way for me. God worked in our relationship to make that happen.

And so I am here; I have opened my heart to the sort of love and honesty and acceptance that makes the resulting loss so unbelievably painful. I think of the Joni Mitchell tune, quoted here some years back:  "Maybe I've never really loved / I guess that is the truth / I've spent my whole life in clouds at icy altitudes"

But I have loved, and the ice is melting. So I cry and cry, and I let the emotions push in like the tide when they appear, and I do not try to push them away.

I struggled this morning with doing "church as usual". I wanted to be authentic. I wanted to change the service and program songs that would give voice to my / our grief. I wanted to cry together, to sing his favorite songs, to say together on a Sunday morning, "We miss Bob!" My heart longed for that. As Tony drove us into church early today, I found myself reading through the book of Job, identifying in some minor but very real way with his suffering and loss. I was swimming in that emotional place this morning.

But there is a time to mourn, and we have set that aside for Saturday. We will not be distracted on Saturday; we will not be bound by time. We will focus celebrating a life well-lived, on airing our grief, on joining our sorrow together and trading it all in for beauty. We will make room for our sadness and honor our grief on Saturday. It would not be today.

I made peace with that before service started, but I carried my sadness with me. I reluctantly accepted that we should do "church as usual".

But then....

....then it was 9:30 and we kicked into gear and the music started and, like always, I just wanted to worship our God. And something amazing happened; for the first time in my life, I experienced the strength of worship carried on the wings of sorrow. It was like the Psalms sang out of my body. It was unreal.

We sang "Lord, You are good and your mercy endureth forever....we worship You for who You are....You are good." And we sang "We give You the highest praise, for You are worthy to be lifted up." 

And I lived in that moment, absolutely sure that above and below and beside all my sorrow, God is good. And He can live and move and breathe life into that sorrow. We believe that.  Death does not steal what we believe to be true. Jesus wins. Through our tears, through the pain of loss and the sorrow we feel, He is good.

I sing some version of that every week - every day, often. I believe it. But I knew this morning as I worshiped, that I have been irrevocably, forever changed.

I looked up several times during worship. I feel the presence of God during worship; I am interacting with Him. That's normal for me. Several times today, I felt so close, so connected. And I'm not sure it's theologically correct, but listen:  
every time I looked up, I saw Bob Pino's face. 
Right beside Jesus, smiling, singing, dancing, and cheering us on like he did every week, whether in the room or watching online.

Today I came to believe something that I cannot prove, cannot argue. I believe it. My faith has changed, my spiritual foundation has shifted slightly. There is something new there that did not exist before.

I believe that the veil between heaven and earth is a lot thinner than I once thought. I believe Bob came to church today.

I don't have to believe this; it is enough to know that he was a good man, that he was a Christ-follower. It is enough to know that he is in heaven, that I will see him again. I do not feel the need to make up something to suit my needs.

I just know that I know that I know that I know.

I know.

Amen.

Blessed Be Your Name

Roaming through some old emails today, and I found this one. Dated January 8, 2009 - a little over two years ago - here's some typical Bob Pino. This is an excerpt from a note he wrote for no particular reason except to lift me up:

Hey Lady......I was finished up praying this morning...and had prayed for you and the staff and God put this scripture in front of me.


"I waited patiently for the Lord to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit of despair, He set my feet on solid ground, He has given me a new song to sing" (Psalm 40:1-3, NLT).


I just know when I get to Heaven the music is going to be off the hook! 

No kidding. You know it's even better today, now that Pino's in the choir.

I have scores of emails like this one; reminders of who I was, that I was loved, that he was my friend, that God loved me....

I have never known anyone with a gift of encouragement (and the willingness to use it) like Bob Pino.

Feeling so wonderfully blessed today. Carried on the strength of strong sorrow that is founded in hope, I am blessed.

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name

Soon And Very Soon

10:20 PM, home after a long day. I drove to Harrisonburg to pick up my beautiful red-head, who cried at the thought of a lost opportunity to hug her friend Bob Pino. The four-hour round trip went quickly.

We got to the hospital in time for hugs and tears - all our own - and a beautiful time of singing and prayers.

And memories - new ones made, old stories told.

Family circled, the ones who have been part of Bob for long years, who have lived the history that is just the back story of the man that I know. Daughters and sons, grandchildren, in-laws.

And a sweet, unmistakable redemption underneath it all. Brian spoke of restoration and grace, and all agreed.

We sang.

When peace like a river attendeth my way 
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say 
It is well, it is well with my soul


We spoke of the great encouragement, the gift that is the best of Bob.

We spoke of his passion for being on time, every time.

The words filled the room. His breath filled the room.

His eyes never opened, but he was oh-so-with-us.

I am home. When I left, he was still with-us.

And soon - and very soon - he will be with Jesus. It is impossible to imagine, the moment that is so near for him, in which he'll cross that threshold and be.....there. Sarah sang this song tonight, a beautiful melody that still rings in my ears.



As we stood outside of his room tonight, Brian and I agreed: Bob taught us every step of the way. And he teaches us still.

I will be with the One I love / with unveiled face I'll see
There my soul will be satisfied / soon and very soon
Though I have not seen Him / my heart knows Him well
Jesus Christ, the Lord of heaven

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.