We've had a boring year. Little to report. But that feels good.

The best news is that our daughter, Laura's, family grew with the birth of Pippa Rose.

Ayla, Rory, Pippa and Theo

Our son Dan and his house are doing very well.

Ayla is thriving!

My parents have both gone; Linda's are both still pushing through. Honestly, it's kind of amazing to watch them persevere.

Linda goes four days a week to support them, and our children's families. As I often say, that is why we moved here. But the whole truth is, we came here also so I could pastor the wonderful Central Presbyterian Church of Terre Haute. After six-plus years, I still have moments when I wonder how I ever got this gig.

We wish you happiness, comfort and joy!

With love, Mike and Linda

Riggins Family Christmas 2023

 Probably the last picture of the four of us.  At mom's funeral visitation.

(Click on the images to enlarge them.)

For the second year in a row, we suffered two losses. My amazing, resilient mother, Dotti, died in August. My brother Dennis, the most talented musician I have ever known, died a few weeks later. Yet we do not feel overwhelmed with grief. Mom lived a long and vibrant life. Coming from a poor family, she married a guy who—with her staunch help—lifted her into an upper-middle-class life. They raised four boys and supported churches and community ministries to award-winning levels. She never met a stranger. Dennis had demons. Yet like our parents he was a friend to the world. Linda and I celebrate their memories. 

 

Dan, mom and Lauren in mom's apartment

 

Isiah doing what he does best.

Meanwhile, 2023 brought new life as well. In January our cat, Isiah, adopted us. (He's named for Isiah Thomas.) He and our pit bull Brianna get along. Most of the time. Of vastly greater importance, on June 7 Dan and Lauren presented the world with our 4^th grandchild, Ayla. She is a powerful answer to prayer. She thrives and even played the role of the baby Jesus in our church's Christmas pageant. Her waving pink socks have already become the stuff of legend. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3K6MltSFSg0 (Fast forward to 3:40 to see the pertinent part.) We believe her older sister, Saoirse, roots Ayla on from heaven.

 

Grandma Linda is overjoyed.  Papa Dan too

Ayla makes everybody happy, including herself

Laura and Sam also provided us with news of new life. She expects to deliver their third child in late spring. Older brother Theo has completed half of his kindergarten year. He loves to read. Sister Rory has spunk. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cHSYhafCQM But we love Rory's strength and nurturing spirit.

 

The annual visit to the pumpkin patch

Linda's parents soldier on, partly due to her and her brother Paul's support. Linda spends a few days each week going to her parents' and our children's homes to tend to our grandchildren and to clean. This was our hope when we chose to come to Terre Haute. Pastoring the Central Presbyterian Church was also a powerful draw. It remains a joy and a privilege to serve beside its people. 

 

A fall visit to our old stomping grounds, Leland, Michigan.

We find ourselves a bit bewildered by the complicated and sometimes conflicting emotions life has handed us. But I remember my father's comment, “Well, if you live long enough it starts being an exercise in dealing with loss. Which is better, losing or being lost?” I don't think he had an answer. I know darned well I do not. Yet here we are. Another Christmas has come. Thank God. Be well and may you have peace in your hearts.

Riggins Family Christmas 2022

Our family joined us in Florida last January  (Click on the pictures to view enlargements)

I have tried to start writing this year's Christmas letter several times. I just couldn't. We talk about how our social media posts reflect our best lives (meaning, unrealistic depictions of how wonderfully things have gone). Honestly, this has not been a best year. We expect most of you know why. But here goes.

 

We visited Dan and Lauren in Chicago for Linda's birthday

This year we lost a grandchild. Daughter-in-law Lauren carried Saoirse nearly to term but then lost her. We also lost a beloved dog and a wonderful cousin. While we would never want to suggest the magnitude of the other two losses compare, all three have hit us and hard. Caring people in our lives have shared their stories of similar losses, and that honestly helps. But of course it cannot absorb all the grief. We talk of this from time to time. We know that we have led blessed lives. We know we still have many things for which we must thank God. We know may others have suffered equal or greater pain. And for the most part, we press on without too much difficulty. But wow, how tough it can be.

We take solace from the blessings the year has brought, especially from the important people in our lives. Our three surviving parents soldier on, giving us incredible examples of perseverance. Our church continues to support us with kindness and love. And our children and grandchildren just keep blessing us.

 

Rory loves swinging.

Daughter Laura has taken a leave of absence from teaching. Four year-old Theo and two year-old Rory have proven too big a magnet. Theo has become an expert on the solar system, Rory on attracting her big brother's attention.

 

Someday Theo may actually grow as tall

Dan and Lauren split their lives between Indianapolis and Chicago, where he pursues his masters in public health/data. Lauren recently got an employment upgrade, with a job that matches her values and commitments. We are happy for this piece of good news. 

 

The four brothers at our mom's 90th birthday celebration

As for Linda and I, we keep moving forward. She makes regular trips to Carmel to clean and to indulge her grandchildren, and to Bloomington to support her parents. I do my part to support my mother and what remains of her business, and I have the opportunity to pastor a superb congregation. We do recognize that our gains outweigh our losses.

May your losses not prove to heavy to bear. And may blessings adorn your lives.

Communication

Earlier this week I met with two men. We had trouble communicating in each case. Verbally. In the end, I felt we had communicated well. Non-verbally.

“Jon” joined me for breakfast at a local coffee shop. He brought along a caregiver. Jon has entered the haunted tunnel of dementia. These days he can track with a conversation for a few minutes, but then spins off into a fixation on some idea he's gotten into his head. That morning he asked me what rank I'd reached when I retired from the military. I gently told him I never served. Our eyes met, but his registered no understanding. Then he asked me again.

Jon served in the US Army for over twenty years. He retired a lieutenant colonel. He did at least one tour of duty in Vietnam. He became a chaplain, and in times when his memory was clearer, he shared stories of men and women he'd listened to, stories of tragedy they'd shared, worship he had conducted in the field. I asked him about one of those services. This time he understood and for a minute or so he smiled and reminisced.

The coffee shop where we meet is quieter than most. That's why I prefer it. Jon speaks very softly. At best I catch maybe twenty percent of what he says. I may ask him to repeat himself a few times, but mostly I try to guess his thread from the few clues I can gather. The rest of the time I just smile and nod. Or frown and nod, depending on what mood he appears to be conveying.

When the server brought the check I realized I had stayed longer than I meant to. The next man I was to meet would be waiting. I said as much to Jon and his caregiver and asked to be excused. Jon leaned forward. I grabbed his wrist and leaned in as well. He said, “I so enjoy these visits with you. Thank you for having time for an old man.” He smiled, and the twinkle that used always to inhabit his eyes made an appearance. I made some feeble statement, an attempt at graciousness, and took my leave.

Sure enough, “Ahmal” was standing outside when I drove up to the duplex we rented for him. “We” are a not-for-profit group working to resettle Afghan refugees. Ahmal's English is improving but still limited. I know possibly five words in his native Dari. We “talk” by saying simple things in English, accompanied by gesturing and exaggerated facial expressions. Both of us have phone apps that we can speak into, which then transcribe the words into the other's language. It takes a few moments to read these messages but it serves well for more complicated thoughts.

Ahmal needed to communicate something even more complex and, as it had to do with the few hundred dollars he has to his name, critically important to him. He called a friend who speaks Dari and English and put him on speaker. We sorted things out. I thanked the friend and said goodbye. Ahmal understood I was terminating the call and burst into a lengthy, impassioned speech. He kept looking at me and then looking away. At me and away. When he finished speaking his friend said, “Well. I am not sure what to say. Ahmal says to tell you he knows today is goodbye and he is full of feelings.”

That day was goodbye. Ahmal has chosen to move from our city to another in the USA where he has relatives already established in housing and jobs. I will say he has a blemished track record in our city. I have mixed feelings about him. But I often ask myself what my mental state would be if, like he, I had been forced to flee for my life, leaving behind my wife and children. I believe he speaks with her every day. She tells him the Taliban have come around a number of times. They want to know where he is.

When I dropped him off back at the duplex I got out too. We embraced on the sidewalk and he said, as he usually does, “My brother.” I replied, as I do, “My brother”. We both meant it.

Riggins Family Christmas 2021

Three years ago a young woman came into our lives. With giveaway nonchalance, Dan asked if we'd like to meet her at an Ethiopian restaurant. As veteran parents we knew: this was significant. And so it is. Dan and that woman have gotten married, bought a house and now the piece de la resistance, expect their first child in May. Lauren and Daniel Hall Riggins, I know I speak for Donna, Larry and Linda when I say we could not possibly be happier about all of it. Dan finished his residency in pediatrics and now practices at Cook County Hospital in Chicago while pursuing a masters in public health/data at Northwestern. Lauren has nearly completed her PhD in education/public policy.

(Click on the images to see them in larger formatting.)

Laura, Sam, Theo and Rory are, as Sam often says, “Livin' the dream.” Though at the customary cost of the grinding fatigue known only to parents of young children, they lead a blessed life. I know I speak for Cindy, David and Linda when I say we could not possibly be more grateful for it. Three and a half year-old Theo loves the Solar System, vehicles and playing pretend with his stuffed animals and Grandma Linda. Fourteen month-old Rory shows a certain flair for comedy. Her imitations of others and sense of timing would make Gilda Radnor proud. (If you don't know who that is, shame on you and we'll wait for you to do a YouTube search.)

 Rory's baptism brought together many from both sides of her family.

Halloween as the Solar System

 

And as an old lady.
 

Last summer, Linda's parents Betty and Jerry made it all the way to their summer home in Wisconsin, to Dan and Lauren's wedding in Indianapolis, and Up North again for the rest of the season. Jerry presented an original poem at the wedding. He walked up in obvious pain, placed his notes on the lectern, and delivered his profound and hilarious work in a clear voice. Blew the room away. My mom Dotti continues to serve as a terrific example of positive determination in the face of the vicissitudes of aging. We do not get to pick our parents. How did we get to have the ones we do? 

 

My mom with her great-granddaughter, our great-niece, Matilda

Dalioanna (Lauren's protege), Dotti and niece Lanie, Thanksgiving in our Terre Haute home.

As for Linda and I, we truly feel thankful for the life we have. If our bodies have gotten a bit more reluctant we nevertheless enjoy good health and virtually no limitations. Our two daily dog walks are chances not just to exercise, but times to catch up, check signals and process any issues we may face elsewhere in our lives. Speaking of the big picture, last June we celebrated our 40^th wedding anniversary and our 46^th year of being together. Now that's pretty significant, if you ask us. Thanks be to God.

Wedding Thanksgiving

Our son got married over the weekend. We love Lauren, our new daughter-in-law. Truly. Both of them bowl us over with their drive to do good. As I said in my toast during the reception, they want to change the world and we hope they will.

My wife Linda and I took note of the great number of people who played a part in making the wedding weekend wonderful. We are filled with gratitude that the bride and groom have so many in their lives who love them so much. We plan to reach out personally to many of them. But I need to say thank you to so many I had to create this post. Otherwise I'd be saying thank you so many times it might become a habit. Can't have that!

First, of course, thank you to Larry and Donna, the bride's parents, who threw a genuine bash. And thank you to Adam, her brother, and his beautiful young family, for welcoming us into it.

Thank you to Jerry and Betty, my in-laws, for taking me into their family 46(!) years ago. Jerry delivered a poem during the ceremony, and I mean delivered. Only a few in attendance knew him; when he shuffled forward to speak, a small man in obvious pain, I imagine most were hoping he could just get through it. But he recited his original work in a clear voice. His various images of light (comets, fireflies and more) enchanted us. He had us laughing out loud and weeping in turn. He is my Yoda, and I mean that with all seriousness. He quietly teaches and lives out a life worth living. I have consciously sought to imitate him. What a gift he has been to hundreds of people.

Thank you to my brothers for the work they put in to help our whole family join in the festivities. Thanks to Tim and Dennis, each of whom in his own way had to come a long way to get there. Thanks to Matt for shepherding our mom to and through the big day. And Dennis, mom is still talking about her turn on the dance floor in her wheelchair. Thank you.

A major thank you to our daughter Laura and her stand-up husband Sam. Wo, it is always a blessing to hear you sing. Your cool head and talent for pulling off events with easy grace did not come from your father or your mother. Sam, like you I did not know exactly how things at the rehearsal dinner would go. But I will say that having you there beforehand gave me a shot of confidence that we would pull it off—as we did. Oh, above all, thank you for Theo and Rory!

Thank you Paul and Kathy for bringing your whole family to the celebration. Kathy, we have long witnessed your love for children. Yet it was wonderful to see you connect so deeply with my grandson. I know we all wonder how many more times the whole Smith clan will gather. It was nice to have this one.

Thanks to Mike, James and Melvin, men who have, as one of you put it, inhabited different cul-de-sacs of Dan's life. Each of you has offered him love and support at critical junctures. As Linda told me when we drove away from that lovely visit with our dogs in the park, you can sometimes tell when a friend will last a lifetime. You represent three of those times.

Thanks to the people who showed kindness to our dogs in the elevator, to the guy at the convenience store who helped me load all that ice into my car, to the skilled cooks at the Bosphorous Cafe from which we got the rehearsal dinner and to whomever invented the map app on my smart phone.

Finally, thanks to all who attended the wedding. The bridal party was incredibly diverse: Indian-American, African-American, a Muslim wearing her head scarf, Causcasians. The entire room had a similar mix. If the future looks like this we will be grateful for that, as well.

When older folks complain about Millenials and still younger generations I try to find a gentle way to say, in effect, you must not have spent much time in direct contact with them. I have had the privilege of doing so for many years and they fill me with hope for the future. Thanks be to God for all of the above, and for more beside. And thank you for reading all the way to the end!

God's creation

When I started questioning the existence of God in my youth, I found comfort in creation. I still do. The beauty, the complexity, the order sewn in the midst of disorder argue strongly for the reality of a Creator.

Sunday morning the moon led me on my drive to work. She was fat and full, hanging just above the horizon. I live four miles due east of the church building; my route runs west in straight lines. There she was, playing peek-a-boo behind scudding clouds. She seemed closer and larger than usual. I could easily make out lunar terrain. The air was perfectly clear and still. Dawn had just risen, the faintest of pink light behind me. But the western sky was still cobalt. The moon's sharp white was indescribably beautiful against that backdrop.

I thought of the perfect mechanics of lunar motion. The moon's rotation is so perfectly in tune with her orbit she always shows exactly the same face toward earth—and, according to calculations that go back to the Greek classical period some 2,400 years ago, she always has. As with earth, every square millimeter of the moon sees light on a regular schedule, with an always-shifting fifty percent of its surface light, fifty percent dark. The phases we see result from the interplay of angles between sun, moon and earth. I see God in all of this. I cannot imagine it as the result of random chance.

That afternoon our family all gathered in our home. The stars of that show, of course, were our grandchildren. Newly three year-old Theo buzzed around, playing with toys saved from his mother and uncle's childhood, some of them made by my father, and asking how to spell everything. Sister Rory, five months old two days before, loves sitting on laps, watching big brother and smiling every time an adult smiles into her face. She is even more beautiful than the moon.

I purposely maneuvered to see my mom's face as our son pushed her wheelchair toward her first in-person meeting with her great-granddaughter. The light broke out on mom's face. She beamed. Tears fell out of her eyes. She was happy. “Ohhhhh!” she said, “Would you just look at her? She's so pretty!” (Fact check: this is a true statement.)

Live long enough and we all acquire scars. My mom has lost so terribly much the past decade-plus. We know she grieves inside, and can get terribly frustrated at her diminished powers of communication. But she has born it all with dignity. She and her great-granddaughter have become for me another testimony of the existence of God. She has kept her faith (though she often tells me, “You know, I'm still mad at God for taking your father.”).

But that moment. That instant when she fell instantly and deeply in love with another human being descended from herself. I see God in that. I cannot imagine it as the result of random chance.

I am grateful for such testimony. I wish that all could have the “eyes to see” Jesus talked about. I thank him that I do.