In Memoriam: Robert Toland

A good man passed away on Friday at 3:15pm.  I don’t really know how to write much past this sentence.  But on the drive home tonight from a school activity, I just kept thinking that I needed to sit down and write a bit.

I guess I should say, Robert Toland was a believer, a man of God, as I should lead with the hope in this story.  The hope that means that death is not the end, but the beginning… that death is a homecoming, not a farewell.  That Robert has gone on to stand with that great cloud of witnesses, that he now sees a sight for which many of us long.

Robert was a member of Crossroads Christian Church, the church we are also members of.  We arrived at Crossroads just over a year ago, after Robert had already stopped regular attendance.  Robert was diagnosed with colon cancer toward the end of 2007. It was a late diagnosis, and the disease had already metastasized. The doctors told him it was terminal.

See, the thing is, Robert Toland was only 30 when he learned this. He and his wife, Melanie, have three little girls: Morgan (2), Skyler (3), and Lilia (5). I didn’t know Robert personally. I only met him on a couple of occasions, and heard him share his journey, and his challenge.  But from the moment I learned of his story, I dreaded this day.

Our church and a number of other organizations and individuals rallied around Robert. Last year, everyone got together to produce an extreme home makeover.  You won’t see it on ABC, and Ty Pennington didn’t show up, but you can watch it here.  They rebuilt the Toland’s house so that Robert could stay home as things got worse, and his mobility became limited, as he approached the end.

Robert and his family have been on my mind and in my prayers all summer.  The home we almost purchased (the one that fell through this summer), it was less than a mile from the Toland’s house.

I have to admit, it’s been a long time since I’ve prayed so hard over one family, one man.  And I awoke Saturday morning feeling a little depressed and disheartened, because, well, quite frankly, I wanted the miracle.

I have 3 little kids.  I am in my 30s. I have a wife I adore.  I have it all.  So what if it was all about to end? Robert’s having to face all that hasn’t been far from my brain the last few months.  A year ago, I almost lost Melodia.  I spent a night facing the thought of being alone, with 2 (or if Izzabelle made it, 3) kids. I wondered how I’d do it without her.  And I really didn’t want to.  Melodia came through it, and Izzabelle, too. But that process reshaped our hearts a bit. It stirred a bunch of things up; it made me re-think death’s reality. It made me a bit fearful.

In March, just 6 months past the trauma with Melodia and Izzabelle, 6 people, all in their 30s, that were either friends of mine, or friends of my friends, passed away. That, too, made me a bit fearful.

It’s funny (odd) the stories we hold on to.  I mean, the older we get, the more we encounter death, the more real it becomes, or the more it becomes our reality, no longer untouchable, unimaginable, unattainable… it becomes more tangible,more common place, more frequent. Just after I graduated college, my favorite professor, Larry Finger, was diagnosed with cancer. I met with him, and we chatted for a bit about it, and how it was going.  He told me that he’d prayed when his kids were little, “Lord, let me live long enough to see them graduate college.”  His daughter had just recently graduated. He said to me, “I got what I asked for.  I’ve much to be thankful for.”  Larry Finger passed away less than a year after that conversation. I couldn’t do much that day, the day he died.

Today I busied myself with cleaning the house.  Melodia was out for some “me” time.  Izzabelle was napping, and Wil and McKinley were playing in the front yard with the neighbor kids. I just need something to do. I’ve been adding some worship and Christian music dvds to our collection. Just recently I added an old (recorded  circa 1995, out on dvd 2002) Ray Boltz concert dvd – The Concert of  a Lifetime. I popped that in to the dvd and had it playing while I cleaned.

I used to often say that much of my theology could be found in songs.  A few artists have shaped my view of God and the Kingdom… Russ Taff, Rich Mullins, and Geoff Moore and the Distance probably had the greatest influence, but many other artists contributed a song or two to the cause of my theology.  Ray Boltz has a couple, but the one that I wanted to hear, as I thought about Robert Toland was “Heaven is Counting on You.”  Part of that song says,

“Many suffered friends even gave their lives
For the message of our Lord Jesus Christ
Now they’re watching they’re seated high up above
Shouting to us as we run

There is a race
There is a prize
There is a price to pay
And the saints beyond
Are cheering us on today”

The theology I’ve long held (or have wanted to hold, wanted to believe) is that those who’ve gone on before us, are indeed watching us, they’re watching us, and they’re cheering us on as we run this race.

I remember when Rich Mullins died, I thought to myself, “Rich Mullins knows now. He knows what he’s always believed is indeed true.”  He knows there’s a God, because he’s standing before Him; he’s with Him.  And the very next thought that came to me was, “He knew then. Rich Mullins knew then, before he ever left this earth.”  Neither death, nor Heaven, nor the sight of God changed what he knew… he always knew. One of Rich’s songs featured the line, “I’ll keep rockin’ until it’s my time to roll.” I loved that wordplay.

So I busied myself around the house, and I prayed. I prayed for Melanie and the kids.

This is one of those things that challenges my faith. Oh, I know, it shouldn’t.  It should be pure rejoicing, a saint gone home… rejoice.  But it isn’t. Perhaps I’m too attached to this world. Or maybe it’s that such a view seems a little too selfish (i.e., what about the people left behind? – I’m outta here, so rejoice). It’s likely some combination of those thoughts.  This challenges my faith.

I think about a wife watching her husband die.  I think about her alone.  I think about kids who can’t understand death, wondering where Papi is. I think about them growing up without him. I think about the four of them questioning God’s ability in all of this… His ability to perform the miracle vs. His hands-off, let it happen. I think about things that challenge my faith, and about things that make me a bit fearful.  And I pray that losing him will not become a stumbling block to their own walk with Jesus, to their faith, to the reunion that awaits.

But I am sad today.  And it’s ok if people say of me, “that seems pretty faithless.” For months now, Robert Toland has lived out on my biggest fears; and it has deeply saddened me that anyone would have to do that.  Some things are just hard – no, they’re impossible – to understand in the Kingdom. Some things, I just can’t think on for too long, or they threaten to break me.

The Toland’s kept a journal on the Caring Bridge website. I read with sadness, Melanie’s words on Friday about Robert’s death.

“Robert passed away today around 3:15pm.  Yesterday, Pastor Pat was visiting Robert and asked him if he was ready to meet the good lord.  Robert answered, “Tomorrow”.

Maybe he knew somehow.

Today, while Denise, Chris, and I (his parents) were sitting with him, he said “I’m ready to say good-bye now”. Then he looked at each of us, and said good-bye individually.  He told Denise and I ”please don’t say anything”.  We weren’t really sure what to think about that comment, but looking back I think he just wanted to die peacefully (without a crowd watching) or maybe he didn’t want us to try to talk him out of it.  I did make sure that I told him that the girls and I will be okay, that I will raise them godly women, and we have support around us to get us through.”

How do I read that without tears and extreme sadness? How do I rejoice?  I know some Christians who are so ready to be rid of this world.  I’m not one of them.  Despite the sin, despite Satan, despite the divergence from the original design, there’s so much beauty here, such great wonder, and there’s friends… and family… spouses… and children.

No, I’d like a long time with all of them.  At the cost of putting off Heaven for many years?  Yes, I think even at that cost.  Oh to be sure, I don’t want to miss out on Heaven.  No way. But our worldly knowledge doesn’t quite provide us more than hazy, blurred, black and white image of Heaven.  Will we know each other or not?  Will we notice who’s there and who isn’t?  Will they’re be any memory of our time on Earth?

Such theological questions probably shouldn’t be of concern to the Heaven-bound, committed follower, but they are things I wonder.  And I think, they’re the the unanswered things that make me wish to stay here for a while longer.

But even beyond my theology is this one simple fact. I’m a dad. When I wasn’t a dad, I didn’t get it. No one who isn’t a dad can.  I’m sure of that. Becoming a dad is much like becoming a Christian. A new world opens up. One sees things as never before.  It is indeed a rebirth of sorts.  As a dad, my worldview is different than it once was. I look at much of what I see through my children and their experiences. At times, I get on my knees to pray for them.  Other times, I get on my knees so I can see the world as they do.

Seriously, we forget, being older and taller, just how much they can’t see (like what’s on top of that table, or on the third shelf up, etc.).  I pay attention to the things that make them smile, and to those that make them cry.  And my heart hurts for them when they hurt; and I both despair and burn with deep anger when it seems like they’re being marginalized, ignored, mistreated, or otherwise dealt with by someone else.

And I guess, herein, you see the selfishness of my post tonight (or, at 1:30am, I should say, this morning). Because this isn’t an “in memoriam” of Robert Toland so much as it is my reflection on just how much it stinks to have Robert’s family lose him, to have his kids lose him, and on just how much I fear this for anyone else, including myself.

Robert’s death reminds me of so many things that are wrong with the world, and of the few that are right with it (like his wife, his kids, his friends). I didn’t want him to punch out.  I wanted the miracle.  For him, for his wife, for his kids, for all of us. And yes, for my kids.

From all I know, Robert was a good man, a beloved husband, a loved daddy, and he’s gone. I suffered through over a week of Michael Jackson memorials, memoriams, and media coverage.  And yet, this is the lone printing – the extent of the coverage – of Robert Toland’s passing (as recorded in the Buffalo News):

Death Notice:

TOLAND – SSG Robert A. III nd7-9PMa
TOLAND – Ssg Robert A. Iii, U.s. Army October 2, 2009 of Sheldon, NY; beloved husband of Melanie Szubski Toland; dearest father of Lilia, Skyler and Morgan; loving son of Denise (Chris) Siracuse and Bob Jr. (Lisa) Toland; brother of Eric Toland, Charlotte and Anthony Siracuse, Mitchell, Amanda and Crystal Toland; grandson of Editha Germain and Sara Olson; also survived by many aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and one nephew. Friends may call Tuesday 2-4 and 7-9 PM at the WOOD FUNERAL HOME, 784 Main Street, East Aurora. Funeral services will be held on Wednesday at 10 AM at the Crossroads Christian Church, 1050 Girdle Rd., Elma, NY (please assemble at church). Interment in St. Cecilia’s Cemetery, Sheldon, NY. Robert was assigned to the U.S. Army Warrior Transition Unit, West Point, NY. Donations to the Christian Youth Corps, 9579 Main St., Machias, NY 14101. Donations and sentiments can be made at www.caringbridge.org.

This, to me, is one of the great ironies of this world, one of the “wrong” things.

And I know I’m going to be sad for yet a while longer. Maybe, until I’ve no time left on this rock… like the sadness I have when I think of Larry Finger. My heart breaks at the thought of the days (and nights) that yet face Melanie, Lilia, Skyler, and Morgan. It just isn’t right that it should be so.  How do we reconcile it?  I don’t know.  But I do know that tonight, I prayed for God to cheat.

I know we have free will (well, according to a good chunk of theology). And I know that, people choose their own path, they can choose to believe or to ignore it all. They can choose God or no God.  Faith or no faith.  Believe Jesus was more than just a carpenter or believe it isn’t so.  People choose.  But tonight I prayed for God to cheat.  I prayed for him to “tip the scales” – for the Toland family.  I prayed that He’d make it impossible for them to doubt, disbelieve or walk away. That He’d stand someone at every choice that threatened a path of disbelief. I prayed that He would tip the scales so that they would have their reunion with their husband and daddy. And I prayed that such a prayer wouldn’t disqualify me from the Kingdom, and wouldn’t dishonor God – but that He would see fit to use this as an opportunity to demonstrate His great mercy.

I pray more and more these days for Mercy and Grace. I pray often that the story of the thief on the cross (Luke 23:43) is not merely about the timing of salvation as it is about Grace and Mercy.  I pray often that God’s Grace and Mercy outweighs His wrath. And as I think about the Toland family (and for others with stories like theirs), I pray that He makes it impossible for Melanie, Lilia, Skyler, and Morgan to walk away, fall away, or otherwise miss the Kingdom as they make and live out their choices on this rock. And I pray for a complete renuion for them, in the Kingdom.

Lord, tuck those kids in every night since their daddy is no longer able to – Lord, hug them, hold them, and do this for Melanie, too. Thwart any attempt by the Evil One or by anyone to cause them to stray, to doubt You, to doubt Your love, or to doubt Robert or his.  Let them always remember his love, and Your love.  Be over them as a cloud, and move where they move… until finally, they, too, are taken up to be with You. And I pray that Melanie’s final words to her husband, “I did make sure that I told him that the girls and I will be okay, that I will raise them godly women, and we have support around us to get us through.” – will be realized in full.  Make it so, Lord, make it so.

And for those of you reading this, I pray you will join me in praying for Melanie, Lilia, Skyler, and Morgan. Pray also for me and for the Wilsons, that we would live our love and arrive at the same Grace and Mercy.