A Mighty Fine Weekend

Posted on June 18, 2014 by Doc Arnett

It has been a very busy June. I’m not claiming to have been busier than everybody else, just busier in a different way than is usual for me. I have spent more time away from home in the first six months of this year than in the last six years: visits to Texas, Arkansas, North Carolina and Kentucky. I topped off a conference in southern Illinois two weeks ago with a rendezvous with and visit from my oldest sister. Our return trip to Kentucky ended with her heading back home alone to North Carolina and me heading to Dauphin Island, Alabama, with my son, Daniel, who lives with his family in western Kentucky.

We stopped for a way too short breakfast visit in Clarkesville, Tennessee, with my two oldest sons, Michael and Samuel and Sam’s wife, Sara Jane. Then we logged another five hundred miles to the Gulf Coast. We were there on a complimentary vacation from one of the companies that works with Dan’s company. Although our planned deep sea fishing jaunt for Friday was cancelled by a couple of thunderstorms, Saturday’s trip with Rocked Up Charters more than made up for it. Working our lines fifty miles off the Florida coast, by lunchtime we’d caught our limit of red snapper and a few grouper as well.

With fresh fillets packed in thirty pounds of ice, we headed back north on Saturday evening and spent the night in Tupelo, Mississippi. By ten-thirty Sunday morning, we were back to Murray, where Dan’s wife, Christie, and their three kids picked us up at the car rental place. That afternoon, Sam and Sara Jane and their three kids made it over to Kirksey from Sara Jane’s parents’ place near Princeton. Mike and Sarah drove over from Clarkesville with their seven kids and joined us by four o’clock and my wife, Randa, made it in from Kansas just after five.

We all enjoyed the fine supper that Christie had prepared for us and the men folk spent a brief while playing guitars and singing. Too soon, Mike and Sam and their families had to leave. All of us were too tired for a late night but it was a good sort of tired. Well, at least for me it was. It was just about as fine a Fathers’ Day weekend as a man could hope to have.

There is a price, both financial and physical for such visits as this when our grown children each live hundreds of miles away from us and away from each other. It is not completely unlike the costs of close relationship with God. There are things that must be given up and efforts that must be made. But there is a price, too, for lack of visiting. In both situations, that cost often runs considerably higher than the first one.

H. Arnett
6/18/14

Posted in Aging, Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Family, Relationships, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , | Comments Off on A Mighty Fine Weekend

Perverse Economics

Posted on June 9, 2014 by Doc Arnett

According to the guy at the tire store, Hyundai and other car manufacturers have set alignment specs on their vehicles to maximize handling and cornering qualities. One result is really nice handling and cornering. Another result is significantly shortened tread life. Angling the tires to improve grip and tracking means much faster wear on the inside of the tires, especially those on the front of the vehicle. The effect is greatly exacerbated by not having the tires rotated and balanced every five thousand miles.

If you’re beginning to suspect that my writings are more the result of experience than reading and conversation, you are on the right track. It’s been over a year since I first learned this during the aftermath of a shop visit to figure out the loud and irritating tire noise we were experiencing. When the technician showed me the tires, I could see the dips/scallops ringing the inside of each tire. “Your tires are chopped, dude.”

No amount of balancing can correct chopped tires, whether you’re a dude or a dudette. Since the tires still had 20,000 miles of tread wear left on them, I decided to endure the noise for a while longer. It’s been a while longer. I managed to postpone spending several hundred dollars. Randa and I, along with every passenger we’ve had for the past two years has paid the price of my frugality. Conversation between front and rear seat passengers became a near impossibility. We practically had to shout over the noise of the tires to talk to one another while sitting together in the front.

In exchange for saving a hundred dollars worth of tear tread, we endured affliction that sometimes verged on the threshold of pain every mile and minute we were in that car.

I finally surrendered last Saturday, drove to Firestone and exchanged half of my rainy day fund for a new set of tires and four-wheel alignment. I guess I’ve gained a new perspective on that old “silence is golden” adage. On the way back home, I turned off the radio just so I could more completely appreciate the quiet ride. “Hmmm…” I thought to myself, “this is why we liked this car so much when we first bought it.”

I suspect there are a number of ways in this world that we pay more than we realize for the sake of saving a few dollars. And often as not, punish ourselves and those around us for the choices we make. True economy does not diminish the quality of life any more than genuine spirituality robs us of true happiness. Sometimes it’s not frugality so much as it is pride and reluctance to admit we’ve made a mistake.

H. Arnett
6/9/14

Posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Metaphysical Reflection, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Perverse Economics

A Passing Witness

Posted on June 3, 2014 by Doc Arnett

There’s something I love about these isolated summer storms, the way they form up seemingly from nowhere and with very little warning. Not the kind that come stomping in all full of fury and destruction, flattening fields of ripening wheat and bending waist-high corn stalks over to a low lean. I’m not talking about the kind that ruin crops and tear branches out of trees and send pieces of metal roofing flying off across the fields.

I’m talking about the kind that show up with just a low rumble or two that makes you look up all of a sudden from mowing the yard or maybe sweeping off the patio or maybe even from fastening in a few pieces of soffit on the eaves of the garden shed you built last year. The last you remember about the sky was that it was partly cloudy but mostly sunny and it’s actually kind of hot, especially out away from the shade. And maybe, especially if you were running a mower or a tractor or a circular saw, you weren’t sure that you even heard that first bit of thunder. Something, though, made you look up at the sky, maybe toward the south or southwest and all at once you see that dark heaviness that says “rain” at least and maybe more than that.

And then comes that second clap of thunder and you aren’t wondering anymore whether that was what you heard. You start gathering up your tools and you feel the first stirrings of a cool wind. And you look back again out across the fields and you can see it coming already on the ridge, those gray slants too thin, too low and too vertical to be clouds and you know it’s raining just off there a ways. You step a little faster and get everything inside the shed and close the door and by now, you can see the rain moving across the pasture, hear the wind shuffling the branches of the birches and maples.

Then, just as you’re heading toward the house, the first fat drops hit the hot concrete and you almost think you can hear them sizzling. By the time you reach the back door, it’s gone from sprinkle to shower and coming a little harder and you can hear the rain hitting the car. Just as you step inside, or maybe just before, it turns loose and the rain falls hard and heavy. You can hear the drumming, and you stand near the window for a while, listening to the ebb and flow as it slacks and surges, and you can see the seams of heavier rain. And then, in maybe twenty minutes or an hour or a bit more, it’s over.

The cloud passes and you can still see the tells of rain as it moves on across the fields and hills. An hour later, except for the damp in the dirt and the drip from where the gutter doesn’t quite reach the end of the eave, you’re not even sure it rained.

The sky is so clear and the air feels so fresh and you wonder if you just imagined it, like the feeling that comes over you when you’re pretty sure you’ve just encountered God and no one else could even see it. You can almost convince yourself that maybe it was just imagination but the grass is still wet and there’s that tiny telltale puddle in the big flat rock by the patio. And you know, even if no one else was there to see it: you’ve been blessed by rain.

You sure don’t want to brag about it but you’re awfully grateful and it’s really not your fault at all if your neighbor’s yard is as dry as a bone.

H. Arnett
6/3/14

Posted in Christian Devotions, Farming, Gardening, Metaphysical Reflection, Nature, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on A Passing Witness

The Mists of Morning

Posted on May 30, 2014 by Doc Arnett

The heavy shower that came late last evening
followed by the cooling of the night
has left a light mist hanging above the pasture this morning,
a soft gray forming that leaves the trees blue
on the ridge bordering the bluff beyond the creek.

Early light leaks into the edges,
lifting the thin ledge of shadow,
shaping the morning’s early shift.

At the sound of the door opening,
the horse lifts his head from the grass,
ears tilted forward,
waiting to see whether or not I head toward the fence.

I wish I knew the subtlest clues
that lets him know what it is
that I’m going to do
almost before I have made up my own mind.

I smile, shake my head at that small wonder
and turn toward the stone and pebble path
that leads to the drenched deck
underneath the maple tree,
drooping heavy leaves
just above the hummingbird feeder.

This is a perfect morning
for sitting in a dry chair,
remembering last night’s conversations,
sipping steaming coffee
and contemplating the long slant of sunbeams
slipping between the tall elms in the fencerow,
bright shafts of revelation cutting through
the thin myths of this world’s momentary illusions.

H. Arnett
5/30/14

Posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Metaphysical Reflection, Nature, Poetry, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , | Comments Off on The Mists of Morning

Mountain Dew & Snickers

Posted on May 28, 2014 by Doc Arnett

My constant friend and occasional critic, Charlie Wilson, stopped by the other day. “Picked up any hitchhikers lately?” he asked with only a slight hint of sarcasm and with no discernible trace of contempt. “As a matter of fact…” I started but he cut me off with, “Yeah, I read your thing on Facebook about the guy who ran out of gas.”

This surprised me. Not the fact that Charlie could read, I’d suspected that for quite some time. It was the source that caught me off guard. “You’re on Facebook?” I asked with no attempt to mask my surprise or suspicion.

“Yep,” Charlie replied matter-of-factly, “figured I’d better know what people are up to. Can’t count on them to let you know with a phone call or actual conversation or some other polite Old World technique.” He then gave me a hard look, “You know when you write stuff like that, some people think you’re just bragging.”

“Oh, no,” I responded, “I was just trying to get people to see that actually doing something to help somebody in need was really more Christian than some of the other stuff people do that might make them feel religious.”

“Well,” Charlie answered, “that might be what you were after but I’m telling you what you got. At least from some people.” I wondered if Charlie himself was one of those people but I decided not to ask. Besides, there was something else on Charlie’s mind.

“Next day after I read that, I pull off on the K-120 ramp at the Highland exit and there’s a guy there with a tractor-trailer rig on the side of the road. He’s got a Bobcat on the trailer and the tractor is unhooked, pulled up about a hundred feet in front of the trailer. Made me think about that guy of yours that ran out of gas.”

“Was the driver walking up the road looking for help?” I asked. “Nah, just sitting there leaning against the trailer like he was waiting for somebody.”

“Did you try to help him fix his truck?” Charlie looked disgusted. “You think I know anything about fixing a diesel rig?” He shook his head and looked like he wanted to spit on the floor. “Sheesh, man! You know I couldn’t fix a piece of toast if somebody softened the butter and showed me which side it was supposed to go on.”

“So, what did you do?”

Charlie grinned and looked like he’d just simultaneously cured cancer, Alzheimer’s and the common cold. “I went and bought that man a Mountain Dew and a Snickers.” I pondered this for a few seconds. “The guy’s truck is broken down and you gave him a cold drink and a candy bar.”

“Exactly. If my truck was broke down on a hot day and I hadn’t had any lunch, that’s exactly what I’d want. A Mountain Dew and a Snickers bar.” Then he added, “I sure wouldn’t want me touching that truck.”

“Well, I’ll be, Charlie, I guess you have a point.”

He got up to leave, then turned and looked at me with a sudden look of suspicion, “Hey, don’t you be writing anything about me. I don’t want any of those people thinking I’m bragging.”

“Charlie,” I assured him, “if I write a word, I’ll be sure and completely change your name. They won’t have a clue. And if anybody does suspect and asks me if it was you, I’ll insist that this conversation never happened. It was a complete figment of my imagination.”

“But, Charlie…” he paused and turned back, and I said with complete sincerity, “Good on ya.”

He grinned and walked out the door.

I thought for a moment and then grinned myself. If something I wrote or said led one person to buy some stranger a cold drink and a candy bar, I haven’t wasted my life after all.

H. Arnett
5/28/14

Posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Relationships, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Mountain Dew & Snickers

A Mighty Good Get-Together

Posted on May 27, 2014 by Doc Arnett

Based on the forecast for yesterday, it would have been a pretty safe bet to call off the barbecue; a fifty percent chance of thunderstorms is usually sufficient cause for postponement of outdoor activities. Whether by faith or favor, we decided to move forward with our plans anyway.

After Randa took the pork loins out of the brine marinade and dried them off, she mixed up and applied the dry rub. I began my part of the experiment by pouring out some cheap charcoal into the grill and dousing the briquettes with lighter fluid. Judging by appearance only, I was a bit skeptical but I stacked them into a pyramid and flicked my Bic. While smoke sifted about the grill, I swept the concrete apron in front of the garage. The birch trees make that sort of a regular job throughout the month of May.

After dumping the apron sweepings into the compost heap, I checked the charcoal. It was covered with white. So, I spread the briquettes out, adding some fresh Kingsford hickory charcoal for added smoke and flavor and put the grill plates back in place. Then I brought out the loins and set them on the top rack, closed the hood and started putting up the edge strips for adding soffit panels to the garden shed addition we’d built last year.

An hour later, I added some more fresh charcoal. Another hour later, the loins were done and the company was come. Randa’s brother and his wife, Kevin and Cheryl, brought their splendid contributions to the project. Randa’s son, Jaylon, and his girlfriend, Leah, showed up a little later with Jay’s cousin, Landry. They brought more food. Randa finished up the homemade yeast rolls and I finished grilling the corn and the veggies.

Except for the corn, everything was delicious. (Next time I notice that the cob has turned a dark color, I’ll leave that package of ears in the store.) We finished up with chocolate coconut pie then headed out for some croquet. In a legendary surge, Landry went all the way from the first wicket to the last wicket on a single turn and won the first game. Everyone felt so sorry for the old man sobbing in center court they let me win the next one.

Afterwards, we sat in the shade of the oak tree, enjoying the breeze and talking. When everyone likes each other and they all pitch in one way or another with the fixings, it sure helps out on the work and pleasure of a family get together. Good food and good friends usually make for a good time and one of these days we’re going to have a mighty fine spread with the Best Friend we ever had.

H. Arnett
5/27/14

Posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Family, Relationships, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , | Comments Off on A Mighty Good Get-Together

A Small Inconvenience

Posted on May 23, 2014 by Doc Arnett

About three-quarters-of-a-mile before we got to our house yesterday evening, I saw him walking along the road. He walked like a man who was tired before he started, steps drifting a bit and his clothes were dirty, his hair a bit messy looking. Randa and I were in the small pickup and had the dog with us. There would have been plenty of room in the back of the truck but I’m not sure whether or not it’s legal to have passengers there in Kansas. So, we went on home.

There’s something that always bugs me whenever I pass by someone who’s in a situation like that. I remember Jesus talking about feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and so on and how he said, “Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me.” So, in the minute it took us to get up the driveway, my conscience and I had reached an agreement.

“If you’ll get the dog and the trash cans out, I’m gonna go back and give that guy a ride,” I told Randa. “Okay,” she responded, with no visible evidence of surprise. She slid off the seat and Layla jumped out after her. I turned the truck around and headed back toward Wathena. About a quarter-mile past the big curve, I spotted the guy, smaller than me and in his mid-forties.

I pulled over. He grinned and headed toward the truck. I asked him where he was headed. “Troy,” he answered. “Well, get in and I’ll give you a ride.”

He looked down at his dirty jeans and asked, “You want me to get in the back? I’m pretty dirty.” “Nah,” I answered, “just get up front here with me.” I didn’t care if it was legal, I wasn’t having it reported back in heaven that I’d made Jesus ride in the back of the truck.

As I swung the truck around, he explained “I ran out of gas just out of Wathena but I don’t have a gas can with me. I’ll find somebody at Troy that can bring me back over.” Troy is another four-plus miles from where he was so I suggested we just go back to my house and get a gas can. His vehicle was less than a mile from Wathena.

Since he’d already worked a twelve-hour shift and walked two miles, he was in a pretty agreeable mood. In less than ten minutes, we had gas in his vehicle and he was on his way home. My minimal bit of effort had saved him another hour-and-a-half of walking and the gas station at Troy might have been closed by that time. Disappointments have a way of stacking up once you start collecting them.

Some of the people that had passed him by while he was walking that two miles might well have been people that know him but didn’t recognize him as they drove by. It is very likely that some of them live in the same town. I’m pretty sure every one of them would want someone to stop and help them out if they were the ones stranded and starting a long walk at the end of an already long day. Every one of them probably had some perfectly good reason for not taking time to offer a dirty stranger some help. In this culture we’ve chosen to create and perpetuate, we assume everyone has a cell phone and no one needs our help. Forty years ago, he wouldn’t have gone a hundred yards without someone stopping and offering assistance. Now, he could walk seven miles without so much as a single person pulling over to give him a ride.

It would be a much better world if we would really get serious about “Whatever good you desire that others do to you, do you even so to them.” Especially when we’re all tired and dirty.

H. Arnett
5/23/14

Posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Relationships, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , | Comments Off on A Small Inconvenience

True Conversation

Posted on May 20, 2014 by Doc Arnett

A stiff breeze in early morning put a chill in the air. It took most of the day for the sun to wear that away but by early evening, the temperature was right pleasant outside. With the locust tree blocking the direct light of the sun and the breeze having tapered off considerably, it seemed so nice at seven that Randa suggested we sit out on the patio for a while. So we did.

I tried to coax the cat up onto my lap but she was feeling too much like herself to oblige that invitation. The dog would have been more cooperative on that point but she is about thirty pounds heavier than would make that a mutually enjoyable experience so we arranged for her to take her own place on the concrete. I sipped on a class of tea and Randa soaked up the ambience of northeastern Kansas.

We talked about the new grass growing on the bank above the retaining wall and the way the winter killed so many cedar shrubs in the area. We talked about the rabbits nesting in the pile of old utility poles and the rose bushes just beginning to bud by the living room windows. We talked about the horse and the splendid ride Randa had this weekend over at Honey Creek with her very good friend. We also spent some bit of time with our eyes closed, lying back in the lounge chairs feeling warm sun on our faces and gentle wind on our skin.

Sometimes the best part of visiting is in speaking and listening and sometimes it is in feeling comfortable enough to know that no entertainment is needed. My suspicion is that those who are most afraid of silence are the ones who fear the emptiness within them. I believe that those who are most comfortable with God don’t feel like they have to be making a racket all the time just so He won’t forget where they are. Genuine love does not have to hear itself talking to know that it is real.

H. Arnett
5/20/14

Posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Nature, Relationships, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , | Comments Off on True Conversation

Courting Miah

Posted on May 15, 2014 by Doc Arnett

As we near Little Rock on our way from Glenwood to Cabot, Jeremiah mentions a couple of possible “tour sites” for the afternoon. With absolutely no flattery intended, I tell him and Misty, “I don’t care about doing any sightseeing; I just want to hang out with you guys today.”

It’s not that I’m trying to be low maintenance and it’s not that I doubt that Little Rock, Arkansas, is just chock full of interesting artifacts. The simple truth is that all I really want to do for these few hours before my plane leaves is to visit with them.

It’s not sympathy for the fact that neither of them got much sleep last night or that Jeremiah might be slightly tired and possibly sore from our mud run the day before. I’m not opposed to sympathy and have, in fact, occasionally been caught off guard by the emotion. Once, I actually allowed myself to indulge in considering how things might look from someone else’s perspective. I try to fight it off most of the time and am generally quite successful in the effort.

My quasi-consideration is actually nothing more than pure selfishness. I would rather spend the afternoon watching my granddaughter Miah. Notice I said “watching,” not “taking care of.” I’m quite content lying on the huge corner couch in the living room and allowing Jeremiah and Misty to handle diaper changes and feeding. I’m watching.

Miah is about fifteen months old now and quite adept at motoring around. She is also cuter than a baby rabbit’s ears and has killer class dimples on each side of a ready smile. She is a bit slow to warm up to old bearded men but I’m pretty patient. I’ve been working on her ever since Friday evening when they arrived at the cabin. I have invited her to let me pick her up but have respected her polite refusals. It’s easy to lose a lot of ground by pushing for an extra few inches when it comes to dealing with small children and other colleagues.

So, I wait for my moments and take them as they come on this Sunday afternoon. On each little venture over to where I am, Miah gets a bit closer. I make funny whispering noises, clucks with my tongue, gurgling sounds, anything to deceive her into thinking I might actually be interesting. She pokes her fingers in my mouth, tries to shove a small toy into my belly and moves one of my sandals to a better place in the living room.

By the time it’s time for Jeremiah to take me to the airport, Miah has leaned over against me on the couch and let me pat her back in an almost but not quite yet hug.

It’s good when dealing with small strangers to let them adjust to you, to simply respond in a receptive way to any overtures they happen to make. At best, we can make it clear that we like them and are safe places for them to visit. Closeness that is worth seeking is also worth waiting for. I think we can see that in God’s patience with us, that he never forces us but always responds when we draw closer to him.

As for my Sunday afternoon in Arkansas, I’m pretty sure this is better than anything Little Rock has to offer.

H. Arnett
5/15/14

Posted in Aging, Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Family, Metaphysical Reflection, Relationships, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Courting Miah

Harmony

Posted on May 14, 2014 by Doc Arnett

I am glad to see Ben load in two guitars as we finish packing the car for the six-hour trip from Houston to Arkansas. He and Sara and I are planning to meet Jeremiah and his family there on Friday evening and spend the weekend in a cabin on the Caddo River near Glenwood. A twelve-hour delay in my scheduled arrival at the airport leads us to a three-hour later start than we had planned. In spite of that, we arrive at the cabin in time to play in the river for a while. We even have time to play guitars and sing a few songs before Jeremiah, Misty and Miah arrive.

The next morning, we head over to Amity to run a Warrior Dash. It is the second one Ben and Sara and I have done together, the first for Jeremiah. In spite of a parking fiasco due to rains the day before and zero preparation for rain by the race hosts, we still have a wonderful time together and the lake is large enough to get rid of most of the mud we are coated with at the finish line.

On our way back to the cabin, we stop at a music store in Glenwood to buy a tambourine and Jeremiah just cannot pass up the opportunity to buy a twenty-dollar guitar. Back at the cabin, we eat a late lunch, then play in the river again that afternoon. While evening is passing from dusk to dark, we sit outside, playing the guitars and singing, passing around the tambourine. Sara disappears and returns with an armload of firewood. I take a break from the singing and gather up some kindling to help her get the fire going.

Just before dark, Jim, the owner of the campground, shows up with the rest of the firewood Sara bought and with his guitar. He plays well and has a really nice voice, both for harmonies and for Neil Young songs, which we all like quite well. Well, Sara actually adores Neil Young and his songs, but that’s a whole different matter. By the time we’ve sung a few more songs, a few more people show up. We pass the tambourine to one of the new guests and sing some more. More people show up.

Misty and Sara sway in rhythm together in front of the fire, singing with Ben and Jeremiah on one of the songs Jim and I do not know but follow along with anyway. I smile in a way that only a father delighting in the talents of his sons and daughters can understand.

Before they were born, every one of my children knew the sound of my voice and the sound of my twelve-string guitar. They have known music for longer than they have drawn breath. Before they saw the light of day, they’d heard the sounds and songs of Gordon Lightfoot, Guy Clark, Neil Diamond, Crosby, Stills & Nash, Don Williams and a host of other singers and songwriters. They knew the rhythms of wood and steel before they could sing; they could feel the pulse of music within them long before they found its source. I cannot describe the joy of sharing it with them as they have developed their talents beyond my own, the pleasure of seeing them joined with strangers in this sharing of music around this campfire with the sounds of the river rapids coming through the near darkness.

A bit later, with Ben and Jeremiah sharing lead, Jim and I join in on the chorus of “Wagon Wheel.” I feel the strength of love and family, the power of music to draw strangers close and children even closer. I feel that strength, that closeness, that transcendent power of shared love. I tilt my head back a bit, hope my tenor will harmonize and let it loose, “Rock me, mama, like a wagon wheel; rock me, mama, any way you feel.”

This moment is worth everything that it has cost me to get here.

H. Arnett
5/14/14

Posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Family, Music, Relationships, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Harmony