'Family' for dying woman is a Barrington church

Living alone in a gated community with no close relatives, given a few months to live and unable to speak after the surgery to remove her cancerous larynx, Barbara “Bobbi” Littiken reached out to strangers.

How long did it take her to feel as if she had found a family at the Community Church of Barrington?

The 73-year-old Lake Barrington Shores woman holds up the fingers on her left hand. Her pastor and another visiting church friend translate as if in a game of charades.

“Five?” they say.

Bobbi nods and holds up the fingers on her right hand.

“Ten?” her guests respond.

Bobbi nods again. Then she smiles and mouths the word “minutes” as everyone laughs.

“It took us that long to love you,” shoots back Ginny Newman, an 85-year-old teacher and church member who has built a lifelong friendship with Bobbi in a matter of weeks.

When times are funny, Ginny laughs for herself and for her mute friend, whose chest shakes in silent laughter. But when the situation calls for crying, they both contribute tears.

“She's a blessing to us,” says Ginny, who adds she looks forward to visits with Bobbi. “I told her she's a walking Bible lesson. If we find ourselves in a position to make a difference, it's a gift.”

Diagnosed with throat cancer last February, Bobbi was coping with surgery, chemotherapy and radiation when she saw an article in Quintessential Barrington magazine about the church and its outgoing leader, Pastor Zina Jacque. Bobbi scans the article and points to a description of the Community Church of Barrington as “the church with open arms” and mouths the words, “They are.”

“That's what makes this such an amazing story,” says the pastor, who insists everyone calls her Zina. “She could not have known when she picked us that we are so much like a family.”

Never married and without close relatives, Bobbi met with Zina in August. Using a combination of her homemade sign language, mouthing words and writing on a notebook, Bobbi says the church now gives her “love,” “warmth,” “support,” “family” and “good food.”

Thanks to Bobbi, the church started boasting better food that fall, Zina says, telling how Bobbi is a wonderful cook whose pumpkin bread blew away the usual treats of Oreos. Celebrating its 165th anniversary, the Community Church of Barrington is “family size,” with about 76 people coming to a typical service, Zina says.

The metallic Christmas tree next to Bobbi's couch was put up by church members JoAnne and Wayne Jacobsen and Zina and her husband, Andre, who live in Buffalo Grove. The Jacobsens have become fast friends with Bobbi and sponsored her bid to join the church.

The church had planned to officially welcome Bobbi as a member during its Christmas Day service, but Bobbi was too ill to attend. She tires easily, has good days and bad, and spends much of her time in bed under the supervision of a health care professional who comes to her home.

“If she can't come to the church, why can't the church come to her?” asked member Jennifer Bulandr. The following Friday, more than a dozen members of the congregation gathered in Bobbi's home as Zina performed the “Welcoming Service For Our Sister.”

“It was super, without being sugary,” Ginny says. “It was very touching. There were 14 of us, and the box of Kleenex was passed around.”

Before she moved to the Lake Barrington Shores subdivision in Barrington, Bobbi lived in Chicago and Arlington Heights. She worked until last month as a registrar for a Catholic school, but she isn't Catholic. Until she found her church in Barrington, Bobbi says she hadn't gone to church regularly since her childhood.

Her little Pomeranian, Riley (“We spoil each other,” Bobbi mouths), remains her companion. She also is involved in a knitting guild that coincidentally meets at her new church in downtown Barrington. Zina models a stylish and warm cap Bobbi knitted for her.

Bobbi says she's not looking to the church for a divine miracle, just human connections that make what mortal life she has left better.

“I'm going to die anyway,” Bobbi mouths. “You've got to have love and support around you to make it. Otherwise, you'd be gone in a few days.”

Her new church, which seems to focus more on earthly concerns than on heavenly rewards, fits Bobbi's broad philosophy that “God is in all of us.”

“My husband and I belonged to the church for three years before we learned it was a Baptist church,” laughs Ginny, who still teaches English and health at a school in Kenya whenever she can. She says she's just glad Bobbi found her church.

“It's like when you have a real good recipe or saw a good movie. You want to share it,” Ginny says.

“We are authentic and sincere,” Zina says. The pastor defines her church by using the Greek word “ecclesia,” which she translates as simply “those who are called out and gathered in order to follow the ways of Jesus.”

Bobbi got her English degree from DePauw University, where she was a member of Alpha Phi sorority. She also has a master's degree from Northeastern Illinois in gerontology with a focus on the psychosocial aspects of aging.

“Everyone should take a course about loss, depression, death, etc.,” Bobbi writes. She knows death is expected to claim her in a few months. As for a heaven, “I hope so,” Bobbi mouths with a smile. She pauses as if she would like to say something more, but all that emerges are a few gurgles from the hole in her throat.

“That I can't speak is frustrating,” she mouths.

Zina and Ginny say Bobbi doesn't need her voice to be understood in their church. Putting her hand on Bobbi's shoulder, Zina says, “When your eyes sparkle, I can hear your voice as beautifully as if you're speaking.”

Knowing what lies ahead, Bobbi hugs goodbye as her friends leave and mouths the one thing of which she is certain.

“We will,” Bobbi mouths, “travel this together.”