Easy Does It

I am reminded this week of one thing in particular: life is not easy.  

Now, that sounds like a big “duh”.  After all, besides that fact that we live in a fallen world, if you’re a follower of Christ, He promises that we won’t have it easy.  If you’re anything like me, you kind of gloss over that particular premise most of the time.  Life hands you way too much sometimes – who needs to be reminded that we’ll have a hard time of it?

One of the young ladies who used to attend our youth group a few years back was killed in a car crash this week.  A dear friend is really struggling with depression right now.  Another old friend lost his beloved grandfather last week.  It seems like everywhere I turn, there is tragedy great and small.  I think of others who live with the ghosts of the past, the hurts of actions years gone, the pain of grief or guilt that nothing can relieve.

On the one hand, because I’m a fixer (and probably because I’m a mom), I want to be there and help every single one of these problems.  I want to be personally involved in solving the wars of the mind and soul and body that plague everyone I know.  But I can’t do much more than pray for most of them.  And yes, I know that praying is a very big deal, and can work wonders and miracles (and frequently does).

I often joke that growing old isn’t for wimps.  I’m not “old” yet (except to my kids), so I know I don’t know the half of it.  But it does feel like the older I get, the more I am aware of the heartache around me.  And while I’d like to fix it all, or better yet, wave a magic wand and make it disappear, I know that God is using these things.  For me, He’s keeping me in tune with His whispers to care for others by intervening on their behalf to Him.  For them, I know that while the circumstances are difficult, He is working to bring them closer to Him – even when it seems He is clouded by the events themselves.

No, God doesn’t promise that life will be easy.  Which is why we have to help hold each other up in the midst of the chaos that life brings.  I’ve often seen firsthand how we reciprocate for each other – I may be the strong one right now, but in a week, a month, an hour, I may need the help of someone else who has the strength to point me back to God’s strength and goodness. 

We have all been in the place that we need someone to show us again that God is great, and God is still there.  For Him, it is easy.  His burden is light.  He invites us to share that easy burden – and give the hard one to Him.  Because He is the only one who can truly take it.  I hope that in the days to come, I can remember that, whether holding someone else up to Him, or marching through those times myself.

Once Upon a Time

I’ve been called an overachiever many times in my life.  Usually when I go to great lengths to do something crafty or make homemade goodies for my kids’ activities.  This week, I remembered not only do I come by it naturally, but I’m proud to do it, too.

When I was a kid, most of our stuff was homemade.  Homemade lunches – which I thought were so much better than the school ones; homemade clothes – which I liked better because I got exactly what I wanted; homemade goodies for class parties – which everyone liked!

When it comes right down to it, I find that I value more the things that I know someone took time to do themselves.  I’m not saying I don’t buy a whole lot of store-bought stuff.  But since my family (like so many others) can’t have certain kinds of foods, or at least the crud they put into so many foods, I prefer to make stuff myself.  And they are more fun to make and eat, in most cases.  (Now if only someone else would do the dishes…)

I have these very vivid memories of the things that my mother made for me when I was a kid for class parties and birthdays.  The cupcakes she surprised me with in seventh grade.  The Holly Hobbie birthday cake.  The double-decker fudge that we gave to my sixth grade teacher for a Christmas present (best present ever, really).  And the heart-shaped cookies personalized for each student in my class for Valentine’s Day.

That’s what I was reminded of this week.  My mother was visiting my house over the weekend, and left on Valentine’s Day.  That meant that she was part of the crazy valentines that we made – gnome heads made of Hershey kisses and felt, with googly eyes – and helped my boys make heart sugar cookies.  They squished them into cookie sandwiches (“the best kind, mom!”), and I methodically wrote out each student’s name onto the top of each one, teachers included.

I reminisced about when she used to make those for my classrooms, even as I grouched over the long names and spacing things correctly.  She laughed at me, and reminded me that often she did those kinds of homemade things because we couldn’t afford something fancier.  I immediately gushed back how I wouldn’t have wanted the “fancier” things.  Because I didn’t want them.  Still don’t.  I loved the homemade so much that I choose to do them now.

Not because I have to, but because it’s something fun that my children will remember, just like I remember doing them with my mum.  Because of the giggles and oohs and aahs of the other kids in the classroom.  Even because of being called an overachiever (again).  Because I know where I get it – from the heart of a woman I am privileged to call my mother.  Who did her best by her kids even when times where tough and money was tight.

So I’m proud to be an overachiever, to spend a little bit of my time doing something fun, and a little silly, with and for my boys, to show them the same thing my mother did, once upon a time…

Gettin' Up There

I am coming up quickly on what I consider a milestone – 35 years old.  I know that in the grand scheme of things that is not actually that old.  To my mind, I often wonder how on earth I could possibly be that old already though, because I swear my brain is still trying to catch up after getting through my twenties.  And don’t get me started on how fast time flies with my kids.  

Compared to some of my friends, I’m considerably older, others, much younger.  (I figure with your good friends, it doesn’t matter.)  I did come to a realization the other day, however, in relation to my age, sort of.  I have discovered that I am becoming braver.

That sounds kind of silly, just putting that out there like that.  But since I’ve turned 30, I’ve done more things that I’m scared of than I ever expected: traveling to a foreign country, twice (once doing the flying in totally by myself); learning how to drive a motorcycle; and my most recent adventure, snowboarding.

As I write this, I am currently pretty sore and really, really stiff after a weekend of snowboarding with some great youth from our church and some of my friends as well.  (And before you think, wait, isn’t she living in the desert? – the answer is yes, I do.  But the high country has some great snow resorts, for a very short season)  I am also physically exhausted from 5 hours of riding in vehicles and getting home late and staying up too late while there, etc., etc.  See, I told you I was getting old.

However, I do have to say that I’m kind of proud of myself.  Aside from getting so frustrated a few times that I literally cried – hey, you fall so hard face-first (downhill) that the wind gets knocked out of you and see how you feel.  But I know that probably even 10 years ago I might not have even bothered to try.  It was one of those “bucket-list” things that probably would have stayed there in the bucket.  Why?  Because I was too much of a chicken!  If something could cause me harm, bodily or emotionally, I shied away from it.  Much calmer to live my life of relative “ease”. 

But then I had kids.  It’s funny how those little (okay, not-so-little these days) guys have inspired so much in my life.  I ask them to learn new things all the time: food that looks weird, a book with smaller print, ice skating, and much more.  And I while I am always cheering them on, I am also always pushing them to face the things they are afraid of, to try it out before they decide they just can’t do it.

I’m sure some of that is my New Englander upbringing – a “git’er done” kind of mentality, that you just suck it up and do whatcha gotta do.  That mind-frame worked really well for me during my year of involuntary single-parenting (gotta love military deployments) – and I realized that it could and would work elsewhere. 

After all, if I’m not willing to go after the things I’ve dreamed of experiencing, then how on earth can I ask my children to do the same?  If I give up on something just because I’m scared or I’m tired or worry too much about how I look doing it, how can I be a good example to my boys? 

Joshua 1:9 says, “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.”  You know, I went back and read the whole chapter – it says “be strong and courageous” 4 times in that chapter.  God was speaking to Moses, and then through him to the people of Israel, but those words apply to us right now as well – okay, yeah, I mean me.  I am not, by nature, a brave person.  But God clearly tells us, not just in Joshua, but in many places in the Bible, that I do not need to be afraid.  That I need to trust Him to take care of me, to bring me through what He has planned out already.  I tell my own kids those words, but didn’t always apply them to myself. 

As I try things that are just a little crazier than I used to, I like to think I’m growing.  I’m not testing God, I’m pushing myself beyond my comfy little bubble and relating to others.  At the same time, I’m building a strong foundation of tangible evidence for my kids that they can try new adventures – and even if they get hurt (because I’ll tell you what, I get hurt), they can be strong and courageous, and God will be with them.  Even as their mom, I can still do new, fun things.  Things that they might be willing to try with me someday.  And it makes me feel a little better about getting “old”. 

Christmas, er, New Year's Greetings!

I've been a bit of a slacker this year, which means my "Christmas" cards have now become New Year's cards, and I never even put up my Facebook equivalent before Christmas - though I could have.  *sigh*  Well, folks, here it is.  Better late than never....

Merry Christmas everyone!  I saw a joke on FaceBook the other day about how you’d think with our daily updates and check-ins with everyone throughout the year, maybe you wouldn’t get these kinds of cards.  Sorry, here it is.  J  Only because I enjoy hearing about everyone else, and since there are so many of you who live so far away from us, well, this is the only time I get to brag.  Thanks for bearing with me.


If I had to use only one word to describe the year, it would be “learning”.  Learning to figure out how to live as a family again after a year-long deployment; learning how to adjust our lives and schedules to help with a medical condition; learning how to be quiet and listen – or sometimes just watch – when God is trying to do something for and with us.  Learning isn’t easy, but I’m happy to say that I think we’ve learned a lot this year.  And we’re not done yet.


As individuals, here’s the rundown: Coleman is 8 and in 3rd grade this year, and his teachers say he’s like a new kid.  He was diagnosed with ADHD last February, and thankfully we’ve been able to adjust our eating habits and schedules and lots of other little things to improve the way he handles the effects of that.  He is much more confident of himself and is more willing to try new things, like going hunting with Dad and grandparents (and actually handling the dead animals).  He also discovered a new favorite sport this year: hockey.  I know, we live in the desert.  But after a couple introductory lessons Coleman has decided he wants to keep at it – and he’s pretty good at it, too!  He also still plays baseball and soccer, which he also excels at.  The boy can play!

Joseph is 6 and in 1st grade now, which astounds me to no end.  He’s the biggest kid in his class, of course, but he is still our gentle giant.  He started losing baby teeth this year, which he thinks is the coolest thing, and he’s getting to be a real ace when it comes to math and reading.  Of course, it helps that he’s learning extra stuff from his big brother, who’s been trying to teach Joe multiplication tables already (and he gets it, at least a little!).  Joe has also been trying hockey, though he’s not as steady on his feet (silly ice) so hasn’t decided if he wants to keep at it long term.  Soccer, though, he’s the fastest kid on the team even though he was one of the youngest this year.  He also played teeball in the spring, and we’re hoping he gets to move up to pitched ball this year, because he loves playing.

Dominic is still here in AZ, though we get mixed messages whether he’ll deploy again or not within the next year or two.  He’s still playing with those big toys as crew chief and technician for the Blackhawk unit here.  Dom was also pretty proud to get a deer this hunting season (a little 3x3 for those who care).  Though he won’t tell you, we’re all pretty proud of Dom volunteering to speak at our boys’ school on several occasions.  He also gets “voluntold” for several classes and extra responsibilities at work, which oddly means he’s doing a good job, so they have him do more.  And of course he’s still teaching the high schoolers and occasionally the junior high at our church, plus helping out with our own kiddos activities. 


Me, I’m as busy as always.  I was thrilled to be able to go back to the Dominican Republic over Thanksgiving on a planning trip – and hopefully be able to return next summer as well.  I feel like God really softened my heart this time and helped me be able to see a little more “God-like” even back here at home.  Of course, on the homefront I’m working 3 days a week at my church office, plus volunteering one day at our local crisis pregnancy center.  I’ve become the “soccer/baseball/hockey mom” (minus the minivan), and help out with stuff at the boys’ school as well.  I’m still singing at church, and help Dominic with the youth there, too.  It has been a joy to see those teenagers mature and grown, even as we have seen those we used to minister to years ago continue to do so. 

What have you learned this year?  We’ve learned much physically, emotionally, and spiritually around here.  God has been so good to us – continuing to provide for us with steady jobs in a crazy economy, giving us safety with vehicles, including a new-to-us car this year, and becoming a central part of our lives, especially in seeing Coleman and Joe grow, “in wisdom and stature”.  We look forward to the new year knowing God will continue to work and teach us – and we pray the same for you!


Have a merry Christmas and a blessed new year!   

With love, Hilary ,Dominic, Coleman & Joe Rigo

P.S.  See, you even get to see the same photo everyone else will get....  :)

New Old Story

I grew up in the church – literally, we were there almost every time the doors were open when I was a kid.  There are pictures of me from my very youngest years on up as part of Christmas programs, or dragging my friends to vacation Bible school, or just random Sunday School and Awana photos.  To me, Bible stories have always been part of the regular list of books and bedtime stories that I could recite at any given time.  It’s one of the ways I help my own kiddos get to sleep at night.  

I mean, doesn’t everyone know at least some rendition of Jonah or Moses or Joseph – or Jesus for that matter?  They’ve made movies about them, after all.  Now, sure, we don’t always get all the details right, but for some reason in my head, I thought everyone knew Bible stories.

Then I saw the blank look on the face of one of my friends the other night as we were talking about Passover, in reference to the Israelites and how it began, and the connection to Esther in its timing, etc.  And my friend didn’t know what Passover was, or why it was important.  I tried, rather unsuccessfully, to explain in a shortened version what happened and why (thankfully, one of the other gals there told her the full story, “reads-like-a-novel” version was in Exodus).  She was fascinated, and in the course of the evening admitted that several of the stories – ones that I take for granted – she just didn’t know them.  She is a new follower of Christ, and hasn't had the extreme exposure to all things "Christian" throughout her life.

Now, at first, I just felt like a heel for making assumptions.  Then later, as I thought about it some more, I was entranced.  How marvelous it would be to be able to look at the Bible stories that are so “commonplace” for me as if I’d never seen them before!  To be able to discover the wondrous ways that God connects all the stories in His love letter to us.

I’m sure that once upon a time I had that kind of joy and wonder when I learned all the stories.  And I find myself praying for the return of that, to be able to enjoy the stories again anew and see the wonder in them as I did the first time.  To hear God’s voice clearly in the telling, and know that the grand Story that He began thousands of years ago is just as important to – and for – me today.

I dare you to try it – really read, really pay attention to the age-old stories that you already know.  And see just what God is telling you.  And be fascinated by it!

Masterpieces Under Cover

You know, I work with teenagers.  Don’t have any of my own yet (though the day is fast approaching and it scares me a lot!), but I like to think that I know how to talk to them at least a little bit.  Which is why it’s funny to me to think how shaky I can get talking to ones I don’t know – especially when I’m having to get after them.  

Case in point this afternoon – there is a group of 4 guys on the edge my work property right now, who actually look like pretty accomplished skateboarders.  However, 15 minutes ago they chose to collapse one of our picnic tables and set it up as a ramp.  That irked me just a bit.  Thankfully I had a long walk from my office to where they were to figure out what I was going to say.

I decided to go the calm route.  More flies with honey, right?  I told these guys (well, the 3 that were left after one took off seeing me coming) that I didn’t mind if they hung out, but using the tables the way they were wasn’t cool, and while I figure they’re good at what they do, I didn’t want them hurt.  And then I held my breath for a second. 

I mean, I don’t know these kids from Adam.  And while the teens I work with are a great bunch of kids, I know that not all teenagers are.  Would they cuss me out?  Ignore me?  Threaten? 

What I got was a clear look right into my eyes, and then a “yeah, hey, that’s respectable” – and then they put it all back.  Without my asking, they voluntarily put the table not only back the way it was, but back where it belonged, too.  

I realized that often when we treat people like the human beings and created masterpieces that God made them to be, we discover they are, in fact, precisely that.  Because I was respectful to them, not demanding or scared or angry, they were respectful back.  Because I could see in them the person that God sees – at least a little glimpse – I could treat them the way He does.  They may hide that canvas under tattoos and strategically torn jeans and a don’t-care attitude – but I think I got a little peek at the masterpiece underneath.

This Morning's Coffee

I have a favorite travel coffee cup.  One of my best friends gave it to me for my birthday, and it has one of my favorite verses on it (Proverbs 3:5-6).  And I am one of those people who gets sentimentally attached to things like that.

This morning, I gave it away.

When I pulled into the parking lot at work this morning, I wasn’t thinking about the man I had just let finish crossing the street before turning the corner.  Then I heard him call to me, “Do you have any food for a homeless man?”

Now, most of the time I just refer them to the local office or give them the gift certificates that I keep at my office for just such a time.  But this time, after asking him to wait a few minutes, I grabbed the certificates, and then ransacked my own lunch for the fruit, pizza and cookie that I had packed.  Then I grabbed the coffee cup, which had a yummy pumpkin spice blend in it today, and would have been the precise temperature to be able to drink comfortably.  I’ll admit, I hesitated for a moment.  After all, it was in my favorite cup.

But thankfully, it was only a moment.  Because I quickly remembered that I could get more coffee, and another cup, without too much trouble.  And I just spent a week in a country where I am rich by comparison to their everyday lives, reminding me of others' needs a little more clearly.  And God told me to – enough said.

As I passed over the bag of food and my coffee, he expressed his thanks with bright eyes and a small smile.  I asked his name.

“Emmanuel,” he replied.

Emmanuel.  “God with us.”  How appropriate.