Where It All Began

Twenty years ago, I was in the beginning stages of falling in love with my Rob.

This is Rob and Crystol in April 1993.

This is the 3 of us in a photo booth not long after we started dating.

Yesterday (Tuesday, May 7, 2013), I visited the place where it all began - the church he attended at the time - the place where I first ever saw his handsome face, first heard him play his guitar as he praised our Lord Jesus Christ, first watched him in front of a congregation as he portrayed Judas in The Last Supper, first heard his voice as he played his part with conviction - and I stood in the spot where I was first introduced to the man who would become my husband.

It wasn't a planned visit but I believe God planned it - much like I believe He planned our meeting 20 years ago.   Click here to read about that day.  The short version of that night is:

We stood at the back of that church and talked as if no one else was even around.  It really was one of those magical, blessed moments that I somehow knew would change my world.  I could have stood there all night long drinking in all that I saw in his eyes.  He later told me the exact same thing - that he could have stood there all night "swimming in the blue of my eyes." 

Yesterday, I needed to be in the town where we met for something and the place I needed to be was only a mile or so from the church where Rob and I met.  I had my sons with me so I decided to see if there was someone at the church who would let me show them where I met their dad.  I had not been back to this church since we attended the wedding shower they gave us at the time of our marriage.   

When I first pulled into the back parking lot and saw where Rob always parked his car, 

I almost pulled right back out.

It was IMMEDIATELY that painful. 

However, as with many things since Rob's death, I knew I needed to push through my instinct to run away from the pain.
Pushing through the pain has proven to be the labor that births my solace in so many situations since September 2011.

As the associate pastor showed us around, my boys were impressed by the children's area complete with a children's worship area, classrooms, and a game room.  Rob would have loved it.  It was awesome.  I should have gotten more photos of it  

Since the associate pastor was not at the church 20 years ago and since I only visited the church a few times (I was a member at a church in another town when I met Rob and he started going to church with me soon after), I first thought the children's area was the old sanctuary where I met Rob and it had been divided up into children's rooms when they finished the new sanctuary.

But as we walked into the sanctuary, I absolutely knew THIS was the room where I met my Rob.

I've talked to many people who have lost a spouse or a close loved one and they have told me that they can "feel" or that they "know" their loved one's presence or spirit is nearby.  For me, I've very rarely had that sensation since Rob died.  But one time that comes to mind is the last Sunday I was at Mt. Hermon UMC when I walked into the side door for the very last Sunday I would worship in that church.  Lots of times when I would get to the church on Sundays, Rob would be right there at that door coming out of his study or coming out of the choir room.  That Sunday is the only Sunday morning at Mt. Hermon after he died that I "felt" my Rob.  It was just an overwhelming sensation of his presence there waiting for me as I opened the church door that June 10, 2012 morning - almost a deja vu moment.  It was so powerful that if someone had not spoken to me right then, I would have probably turned around and walked out for a few minutes.

Yesterday, when I stepped into the sanctuary of this church where I met Rob, I had to take a deep breath to even steady myself.  I continued conversing with the associate pastor as if nothing was happening in my mind and in my spirit - but it was.  And it is hard to define.  I just know that when I turned my head to the left side of the way they have the sanctuary oriented now (pretty sure it was oriented differently 20 years ago) I felt such an overpowering sensation of my Rob that it literally was breathtaking.  It was something akin to what I felt 20 years ago when I met him.  A breathtaking moment then and a breathtaking moment yesterday. And when I turned toward the sound booth (again, pretty sure it was oriented differently 20 years ago too - in the middle of the back instead of off to the side like it is now), the sensation got even more powerful.  You see, it was in front of that sound booth where Rob and I were first introduced and we stood and talked that very first time we met - the time when neither one of us wanted to leave each other's presence.

As I continued to talk with the associate pastor and as I watched my sons walk around this church where their father and I met, my mind swirled with the thoughts that I hoped Rob could see it all.  I hoped he could see his sons checking out the stage in the church where he had played for years on the praise team.  I hoped he could see his sons close to the altar of this church where he told me he prayed so much for a Godly wife and more children.  And I even hoped, for a moment, that he could see my tears because being back where it all began was making me miss him all over again.  

It never ceases to amaze me how many dimensions there are to missing him.

The associate pastor gave me the cell number of Rob's best friend at this church, Ray.  Ray was a groomsman and he played his guitar for the singers at our wedding.  

Ray and Rob were both guitar players at their church and they were very close during the 5 years Rob attended church with him. I wish we had not lost touch with Ray over the years but it just sort of happened.  Rob moved out of that town when we married.  Rob got busy with seminary, the ministry, having more children, and just life in general.  But he never forgot his friend.  I have found Ray's name and the names of all of his friends from this church and the church as a whole listed in many of Rob's prayer journals, especially when we heard that the church was going through a church split and the original church was renamed.  He never forgot this church and what it meant to him at a time when he so needed what they offered.  In fact, this plaque he received from the church hung in every study he occupied in his 17 years of ministry - right alongside his diplomas and degrees.  

After the boys and I left the church, I called Ray as I sat in the parking lot.  It was both a wonderful and a painful conversation.  I had tried to find Ray and his wife, Ronda in the days after Rob died but the number I had in my book was not right so he did not know Rob had died.  Having to tell someone is like reliving it all again.  But that wasn't the most painful part of the conversation.  From my experience with Ray, he is an encourager.  And he really loved Rob.  He was saying such wonderful things about the Rob I fell in love with - my Rob - and with every word, it felt like there was a knife piercing my heart all over again.  Ray was telling me how much he cared about Rob and what a great friend he was.  Ray said Rob was so full of integrity, so much the real deal, so genuine, and was so dedicated and loyal.  Ray also said wonderful things about me.  Ray said that they had been praying for a wife for Rob and that they were all so happy when God sent Rob a good woman.  Ray told me he so much wanted his friends to be happy and that he had never seen Rob happier than when I came into his life.  Ray, speaking with that smile you can just hear in his voice, said, "I'm the kind of person who likes to see my friends happy and I can tell you this, Janna.  You made Rob happy!"  

It was wonderful to hear those words.  But at the same time, it was heartbreaking.

Simultaneous seems to be the definition of my life now.

It was so soothing and yet so sad to hear Ray talk about the time period in which I was falling in love with my Rob.  It was good to be reminded of that time from someone who was there. 

Falling in love with my Rob was so much fun.

Remembering that yesterday was good -

even through the searing pain of knowing it is over.