Goodbye 2016

On board the USS Midway

The perfection of Jesus’s divinity was expressed in the perfection of his humanity, and vice versa. He was God because he was so sublimely a man, and Man because, in all his sayings and doings, in the grace of his person and words, in the love and compassion that shone out of him, he walked so closely with God. As Man alone, Jesus could not have saved us; as God alone, he would not; Incarnate, he could and did. ~Malcolm Muggeridge 

Our Christmas cards went out in the mail already, but the year wouldn’t be complete without a letter. The week after Christmas is the perfect time to complete it. Or, rather, procrastinators feel compelled by the new year to act.

We mark our years by the places we visit and the people we see; 2016 was no different.

 

Mike’s year started off at the U.S. Supreme Court in Washington, D.C., to watch the arguments in a First Amendment case called Friedrichs v. California Teachers Association. The organization he works for, the Mackinac Center, had performed a supporting role in the litigation. The Supreme Court only holds about 150 people at a time; even lawyers admitted to the court must queue up at 5 a.m. to be guaranteed a seat. Tip: when standing in line for four hours in January, bring comfortable shoes, handwarmers, energy bars and a newspaper to read.

Then we were all off to sunny southern California for a mid-winter vacation. We saw the USS Midway in San Diego, Lego Land, SeaWorld, Disney Land and the Reagan Library. More importantly, we played at the beach in January. Rachelle’s parents joined us and we visited Rachelle’s brother Mark in Bakersfield (our first time visiting him since he moved to California 10 years ago). A brutal (by local standards) snow storm of ½ inch nearly kept us from getting to the airport for our departure.

In March, we trekked to Walla Walla, Washington, for Grandma Bigger’s 95^th birthday and saw many aunts, uncles and cousins.

In May, we drove to Boston for two days of sightseeing and then over to New Hampshire for what was, perhaps, The Happiest Wedding Ever, featuring Rachelle’s last roommate Lindsay Jones and Ben Hansen. At the end of the month Mike and Rachelle’s dad, Rick, met Mark in Indianapolis for the bucket-list experience of attending the Indy 500. Later in June Lindsay’s parents Phil and Bev Jones stopped by during a post-wedding road trip. We were still exulting on the Happiest Wedding Ever.

Amy, Janet, Rachelle in Connemara

July found Rachelle joining soul friends Amy and Janet for a seven-day visit to Ireland. Amy lives in Olympia, WA, and Janet lives in Melbourne, Australia. So, Rachelle had the easiest trip, and still managed to get a travel virus and spend three days feeling miserable. She perked up in the invigorating sea air on a ferry ride to Inis Oirr, an island off the Galway Coast. It was cold, rainy, and gusty with some big waves. Her Viking stomach returned as she watched her fellow passengers not feeling quite as well. Despite a chilly, rainy, summer in Ireland and not feeling great, it was a great trip with good friends. Highlights: Slieve League in Donegal Co., Marble Arch Caves (in N. Ireland immediately after Brexit—interesting stuff!), the Guinness Factory Tour, music and Irish dancing in Galway, and the Cliffs of Moher—breathtaking!

Cesky Krumlov

Then in August Mike took a work/study trip to the Czech Republic, spending most of a week in Prague. The people there are courageous, having thrown off Nazi and Communist occupations in the space of forty years.

Grandma Bigger & Dad Bigger on Mackinac Isl.

In September Rachelle’s Uncle Darold and Aunt Barbara traveled with Grandma Bigger to see our adopted home of Michigan. We rented a house up north, hiked, ate, golfed and rode around Mackinac Island. (Some of us on bikes, others on motorized wheelchairs.) 

Aunt Barbara, Grandma, Uncle Darold

Parents sometimes need time away from kids, which is what we did with Mike’s brother Matt and his wife Vanessa in October for a weekend trip to New York City – our first time there together in more than 10 years. We walked (a lot), visited museums (MoMA and the Guggenheim), watched a play (Something Rotten) and took in the 9/11 Memorial & Museum.

This holiday season we were able to spend time with both sides of our immediate families, with a Reitz gathering in West Virginia and a Bigger gathering back in Michigan.

Ben (12) has taken up fencing. He continues to write adventure stories and has acquired a respectable Nerf arsenal. Kyrie (10) is our Irish dancer and Party Planner-in-Chief. Evie (7) is our gymnast and humorist.

Looking back over the year, we are deeply grateful for the gifts of friendship and prayer. Merry Christmas and a blessed new year!

Mike, Rachelle, Ben, Kyrie and Evie

 

Bye-Bye Superwoman

This post by my wonderful friend Lindsay triggered many thoughts. I loved what she said and how she said it.

And it made me think of the difference between picking up a cross or putting on a cape. I far prefer capes to crosses and this often results in me attempting the difficult thing that gets noticed vs. the humble thing that I need to do. Or giving an easy answer rather than listening. This season is one for sorting out what is what, but even in attempting to do that, I easily gravitate toward the cape.

There are things in this life we are called to do. We are called to be His hands, His feet, and His tear-ducts at times. But some of us, uh-hum, have trouble sticking to the cross and want to solve the problems of this world.

As a parent, I'm faced with this dilemma time and time again. I want my children to have the best childhood possible and yet, in attempting to bring that about I have to wonder if I'm doing everyone a disservice. There are times when we do fun things, yes. But I can never protect them from all evil, can never be the answer to all their problems, never know exactly what they need in the moment or what they need to be learning to be prepared for in their futures. I can only hope to keep turning them toward the cross, reminding them of their hope, redirecting them outside of themselves and teaching them to love God and not seek my approval. Which sounds far easier than it actually is. Because I want to be SuperMom.

Kyrie told me last week that I was the "Perfect Mom." I think I actually laughed that such a statement would come from her. But I set about correcting her that no one is perfect and I most certainly am NOT. Later, tucking my wise 9-year old into bed, I said, "Well, you certainly know I'm not perfect." And with his wise little eyes that hide nearly everything he's thinking (which scares the caped woman to no end), he responded, "No, but you are a good mom." (Pretty diplomatic really.)

Being a mom is a cross in one sense, not because it is oppressively burdensome, but because when done well it does require the laying down of one's self.  A new mom said to me recently, "I just didn't know you are never off; you never have time that is just yours." And while I'm thankful for more time to myself these days, I sometimes have to stop the important thing I think I'm doing and give 100% to my family.

At the same time, my children are learning that I have other roles, and that I don't have all the answers. They will be better neighbors, friends, spouses, people for knowing that the world doesn't revolve around them and for learning early that I can't solve all of their problems. They have to learn to pray, and to seek God.

And so I try to start my day looking to the One Who Knows and remember not to get irritated when the day doesn't follow the plan. And not get tired and give up in the face of difficulties either. Capes vs. crosses.  One seems light but is utterly impossible. One is heavy but leads to life.

Surrender

 We were in church a few weeks ago when our pastor shared this story about his mother. It had just happened that week; she was visiting from Alabama when her health very rapidly declined and it did not look good. On so many levels, it moved me. 1) Where can I find a doctor like this? 2) How can I witness to God's truth in the world in my life like this man did? and 3) How like my father-in-law's recent healing this was? He had given up, done all he could and was saying his goodbyes and quit flailing and then he was healed.  Mostly, I just sensed God's presence in the telling.

This week, Fr. Kenneth's mom went home (to Alabama) and he shared this story in writing. I had to share it.  God is at work; He is alive; and He cares.

On the second Sunday she was hospitalized, a few of us gathered in her private room after church. I wasn't expecting to see her cardiologist, but an hour or so in he walked into the room with some residents, as they made rounds.

Dr. Mathew is a charming, articulate Indian man with a slight limp who I never saw without a sharp suit and tie. He said, "I know your son gave a lecture in church this morning, but now I have one."

He looked directly at my mother and said: "Have you surrendered yet?"

Mom looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"When someone is drowning, flailing around in the water and going under, when is the right moment to attempt a rescue?" Dr. Mathew asked. She did not answer.

"Right away?" I said, very unsure of myself.

"No, you must wait until the drowning man has stopped struggling, otherwise they will carry you down with them."

He looked at my mother and very firmly asked, "Have you given up, yet?"

She raised her hands and said, "I surrender."

Dr. Mathew said: "Tell HIM, not me!" Again, mom looked lost.

"He means God, mom."

"No, I mean a PERSON who is GOD: Jesus Christ! Have you read his words in Matthew? Why are you anxious? Why are you worried? Jesus says he clothes the fields with lilies. The birds sing to God and God is OBLIGATED, then, to feed them. Trust in him."

The residents looked like they were used to this but also clearly respected the old man. I smiled, on the outside and the inside. A true physician, this one, I thought.

He then went on to brilliantly lay out all of the cardiology and what they were attempting to do with medicines and therapies, as we all listened carefully.

As he left, he said: "We can do some things with medicine and surgery but only GOD can can heal."

-Fr. Kenneth Tanner

Reflections on Politics, Death, the Imago Dei and Parenthood: A Letter to My Baby

 I know I should break up the seriousness with a funny story or a photo or something. But on this very somber and serious Friday when I received news of a friend's just-diagnosed Stage 4 pancreatic cancer and reading the news brings back remembrances of my childhood with Iranian hostages, gas lines, and anti-American demonstrations, I read this beautiful letter written by a brilliant friend, Leeann Walker Gibson, written to her unborn child. I was privileged to meet Leeann when she was on the brink of adulthood and I was her admissions counselor at Patrick Henry College in Virginia. That was years ago and now she is expecting her first child. This letter summed up so much of what I want to convey to my own children. This is my prayer for them too.

Dear precious child,

I wish I was bringing you into a perfect world, but I’m not.  And I don’t think there’s been a time in your life thus far I’ve been more aware of this fact than this week.

There's plenty of crazy in this world to go around, and I've seen it for years in my chosen field of politics and policy. You'll come to see how people will prefer the easy way out, favor name-calling and demonizing to dialogue.  Sometimes it is ridiculous to the point that it would be funny, were it not treated as a national past time that can divide family members and neighbors.  Truly, it’s heart-wrenching, what people will do and say to each other under the banner of "freedom."  It is not hard to tell the difference between honest policy debate and those who take politics to be a blood sport and are glad of it.

There is an even darker shade of this crazy, highlighted recently by events that occurred in your 29th week of life – events that took the lives of four American diplomats.  Part of me doesn't know why I react so vehemently to these murders, when I know senseless deaths occur not just in remote corners of the world, but right here in our country, on a regular basis. Children starve, and starve to death.  In the face of such darkness, I understand why people would ask why I would want to bring someone into this messed-up world.

The simple answer is that I don’t think the world’s problems are quite as complicated as some make them out to be.  The very worst of this world – every indecency, all violence and abuse, rage and murder, dissent and discord all take root in a common moment – when a person or group of people fail to see the image of God in others, when respect for life because it is sacred ceases.  Where there is no sense that every other person we encounter is created in the image of God, we begin to treat them as less than they are.  For this reason, and that alone, have atrocities as murder and slavery – and the more accepted, everyday sins of pride and – ever found safe harbor. One of my favorite writers put it this way: “There are no ordinary people.  You have never talked to a mere mortal.  Nations, cultures, arts,civilization—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat.But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, andexploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.”

I believe you can and will make a difference in this world if you believe this truth and behave accordingly.  Never expect to change the fundamentals of humanity, which have hobbled on in their twisted, deformed state for more than six thousand years – but by all means, expect that you will be transformed and an agent for transformation if you submit your life to truth.  You will not solve world hunger, but you will feed the hungry.  You may not end greed,but you can inspire others with your generosity.  You will not cause all war to cease, but you can be a peacemaker.

I wish I could explain it all, but I can't. What I do know is that Christ Himself is our peace, just as His Word promises. Sometimes He brings peace by speaking directly to your heart in times of trouble; sometimesit’s through a common grace, such as the beauty of a verdant river front dividing the blue sky from the deep blue river on a day that left you unsettled.  His peace is real, and it’s bigger than all the darkness of the world, and that is why I can have confidence for your future and mine.

I bring you into the world not because I have hope for this world, but hope for what can be done in this world while we look forward to the next.  I know you will encounter trouble and trial and see death and suffering in this life.  I may try to shelter you from it, but I can't protect you from the reality of fallen humanity.  You come into the world to be a light in dark places.

And though it won't always feel that way, being a light so simple, really.  "Love your neighbor as yourself."  See the fingerprints of God Almighty on your parents, your siblings, your friends, your classmates,your coworkers, your spouse, your children, strangers walking down the street, the homeless beggar on the corner, see His image on your enemies.  And you will realize the folly of being short with a loved one, of making cruel jokes at the expense of another human being.  You will realize that debate for debate's sake does not solve problems.  You won't say things just because you were blessed to be born in a country that affords you that right; you will choose to say what is useful for edification and building up others.  Hatred and bigotry will have no foothold in your heart or mind, because you see things - at least as much as you can this side of eternity - as they are.

Few others will see the world through this lens.  Accordingly, they will not behave as you do.  Don't expect them to.  But share your light. Loving your neighbor opens doors for you to share why you are different.  Don't just be a nice person.  Be radical in your love toward your fellow immortals because of the love God has demonstrated toward you.

Turn the “how could your mother have brought you into this world?” question into, “why aren’t there more like you?”

Back to Reality...Kind of.

My mom left today to go back home. Knowing she can't run up on Amtrak in a few hours is tough and we were sad to see her go. The airport is 11 minutes from our house....12 minutes if you miss your turn like I did today. Pretty amazing. There are only four flights a day so you have to plan carefully.

I'm starting to think about school....I am not ready but none of the teachers, parents or kids I know are either.

We have some wonderful neighbors. Next door is a pastor and his family. His wife told my mom yesterday she really wanted us to come to her birthday dinner Friday night but knew we needed a babysitter and her 17-year old daughter had plans. Today she told me she wanted us there so badly she had asked her daughter if she wouldn't be willing to change her plans for her birthday. And her daughter responded: "Of course I will Mom." We are feeling really blessed to have such a wonderful family next door.

Now we need to buckle down and get into a routine. I still have some unpacking to do.

Today we set up a local bank account. Next up...

Library card.

The Choosing of Godparents

This post was written by Everleigh's godmother: http://onenovembermorning.blogspot.com/2012/07/getting-it.html who is about to depart to spend a year of her life in Costa Rica. I got a little weepy as I read it because this is exactly what we wanted when we chose her to be Everleigh's godmother.

All of our children's godparents are so absolutely perfect for their personalities that it sends chills up my back. When I think about answered prayers, the times we prayed about whom we wanted to designate to assist us with their spiritual guidance comes quickly to mind. That decision, like their names (which so perfectly fit them too), was clearly guided by a GOD who knows so much better than we do.

In the days when I don't feel like a very good mom or when I worry about some of their particular characteristics, I remember that God has guided from the very beginning.


 

Interlude

Ben and Kyrie asked me to take photos of the house when I called to tell them we had moved out.

Add caption

An evening in Portland with good friends: Heidi, Amy, Janet

At Montage, a Portland tradition