Once upon a time there was a scrawny little boy who was born in Idaho, grew up in Nevada, was too small for most of his clothes, and fell asleep at the family dinner table almost every night. He grew up with two big brothers, one little sister, and held his own in scuffles over the years by virtue of his smart mouth. Which, as it turns out, got him punched more than once by each and every one of his siblings.

Robbie is not so little any more and has gone by “Bob” since the 7th grade when a new teacher, calling roll, asked if Robert Mitchell goes by “Bob.” He answered, “Yes” and the rest is history name wise.

Life in the Mitchell house was full and busy. Four kids in school, an entire family deeply involved in the Fallon Church of the Nazarene, occasional grandmas and exchange students living with them, Dad a juvenile probation officer and Mom a school nurse. Virtually everybody in town knew the Mitchells and respected them. That must’ve been why, when newly monikered “Bob” needed his first part-time job at age 14, his mother used her medical community connections and got him an after school gig as a nurse’s aide at the local convalescent center. Yes, you heard right. A FOURTEEN YEAR OLD BOY WITH NO TRAINING AND WITHOUT APPREHENSION became a nurse’s aide right out of the gate. And I mean he was all up in there doing a lot more than breakfast trays and bedpans. Foley catheter, anyone? ‘Tis true, dear ones. Let us all whisper a prayer of thanks that there are more regulations these days.

Thus began a lifestyle.

I’m not sure if being thrown into the deep end of the medical pool at such a young age molded the man or if the boy was truly gifted in the world of care. Compassion. Hard work. Not being intimidated by the difficult. The sometimes repulsive. The learning curve.

So our young Bob continued with this part time work in the world of convalescent care during high school, went away to college, fell in love with his already big crush on music, including piano, guitar, cello, vocals, penny whistle, you name it, and got a degree in . . . wait for it . . . music theory. Hellooooo? What?! All the while working as a nurse’s aide during summers.

Slightly derailed by a girl and a marriage and cross country moves and children and decisions and “what are we doing and why are we doing it and how are we going to feed all these kids?” types of questions, he and the little wife decided that his former existence in the world of medicine was looking not so bad as far as potential income production. He applied to nursing school, got accepted, and while working full time doing other things got his fast-track degree, became Bob, R.N. and went to work. Sounds simple. Ha.

At Bob’s nursing school pinning ceremony/graduation, our third child was five weeks old and screamed throughout. Bob and two fellow nursing students were at the microphone on stage singing, “You Are the Wind Beneath My Wings” (yep, seriously) while I stood at the back with two little kids and a SCREAMER. Fun times. But I digress. That was 35 years ago in 1991.

If you know us as a family, you realize that Bob did not continue full time work as a nurse. Not for lack of drive or love of the profession or any of that. Life as a critical care R.N. in the surgical ICU was dandy. But God in heaven saw more and called him to ministry at age 34 in 1995. The answer to that true call is always yes even if it makes little sense. And so we went. Was it easy and did everything fall into place? Nope. Nopity Nope Nope. But that’s a different story for another day.

A tiny little nutshell of those ministry years goes like this: He served well. He conquered another learning curve. He put feet to his music degree and his love for Jesus in a combination that was beautiful as he led hundreds of worship services in the precious congregations we were honored to be part of. He even was privileged to serve families and their children in one location as a children’s pastor. So many stories. So many terrific days. But here’s one component of those 28 years in full time ministry that we didn’t talk about much — he kept his nursing license alive by working just enough on the side “in case the wheels fell off.”

I didn’t really understand that phrase he used, but supported the idea that he needed to keep his nursing skills sharp and up to date, so he accomplished that by pursuing whatever he could find. There was some home health care in Washington, a PRN ICU shift twice a month in Arkansas, supervising clinicals for nursing students in Idaho, and more home health care in Oregon.

Ministry continued.

The wheels came off in 2021.

Enough said about that. Life happens. It happens to everyone. We are not special because life happened to us. I’m just thankful for a husband who stayed prepared.

Bob went back to nursing. Because he could. Because the Lord gifted him in that arena as well. Because he is not afraid.

Today he walked out the door for his last shift as a full-time registered nurse and I am so thankful for his legacy of caring not only for me but for his children and for the perception of what it looks like to trust the Lord with your family. Little Robbie saved our bacon. No doubt.

As long as the Lord says “yes,” Bob will still be singing His praises in a part time leadership role at our dear church. Once in a while he might even break out that crazy penny whistle.

Your love, Lord, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies.

Psalm 36:5

Much love,

MM