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.