Restoration

Posted on August 11, 2010 by Doc Arnett

We sat out on the east porch last night,
alone in the heat of brick and stone.
With darkness clothed around us,
we felt the day leaving.

There was the least stir of a breeze,
a slight rustling of leaves
and then what seemed like light
ever so briefly on the trees.

For a moment
I wasn’t sure whether I’d seen something
or if it was one of those things
where the mind makes reality

out of some hint of possibility.

But then, there was another flash,
something more
than what could pass for imagination;
definitely, lightning.

In a few minutes more,
as we leaned back in the stored warmth
of the heavy corner,
we heard the coming of a stronger wind,

sending its sound loud and sure in the night,
a stronger surge,
a tremor among the trees,
a bending of branches

the coming of rain.

H. Arnett
8/11/10

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A Quiet Faith

Posted on August 10, 2010 by Doc Arnett

Even in this pre-dawn darkness, there is a foreboding of high humidity suggesting that the day’s heat index will right easily hit the one-eleven mark predicted. Our guests seem to be sleeping in the contrived comfort of air conditioning, that convention of earlier century technology that has spoiled millions and saved thousands of lives. And has given more than a few of us a better night’s sleep.

Mine apparently is an exception due to too much material for thinking about: my sister and her husband stopping by on their way from Milwaukee to Abilene (Texas, not Kansas), work to be done on the new place, work to be done on the current place, work to be done on the rental place, work to be done at the work place… you get the picture.

Lord willing, Patsy and Lorin will safely conclude their cross country task of moving my niece up to begin law school at Marquette. By nightfall, they will at least be close to making their way back home in Texas. Hopefully, the utility companies will have marked any service lines that could be disturbed by digging postholes for the horse fence. Maybe I’ll remember to pick up the tools needed for cleaning up the grass trimmings back here after having helped out with the day’s registration duties over at the college. I might have time to give another brother-in-law a call about doing some work over on Penn Street.

Elsewhere, a few billion other souls will deal with their dailies; thousands will face the aftermath of disaster while others experience some fresh tragedy. Some will embrace greetings and leavings with too little space in between. There will be the joys and aches and all the mundane things of existence in this place.

We will all, in whatever ways and with whatever responses, further experience the gleanings and meanings of this life we are given. Some carried in the soft breathing of loved ones’ sleeping and others in the prayers of early hours.

All of it held in the hands of him who upholds all things by the word of his power.

H. Arnett
8/10/10

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Shady Character

Posted on August 5, 2010 by Doc Arnett

The forecast for yesterday had called for the temperature to be in the mid-nineties and the heat index to be around a-hundred-and-ten. Instead, with a mix of light to dark clouds passing overhead and a very brief shower, we had a very pleasant day. Temperatures nearly twenty degrees lower brought a very welcome change, particular to the masonry crew that has been working on the new porch/entry on the south side of the administration building.

For over a week, they had been working in the heat, spending most of the day in a very direct sun and with no shade until late afternoon. Since they leave at four, that means very little shade. Only the hod carrier, who kept his mortar mixer parked under a tree on the east side of the building, had much relief at all.

When you spend your day setting up scaffolding, keeping the layers supplied with stone and brick, dumping eighty-pound bags of mortar into a mixer and then hauling the mix over to the scaffolding, a bit of time in the shade seems like a reasonable perk. At the lunch breaks, he is joined by the other two men, readily sharing the shelter of the tree that must seem like an oasis in the heat of this summer.

There are those who seem to spend much of their lives in the heat with very little relief. Others may work in the shadows from time to time, perhaps getting more shade because of the nature of their labor. I did notice that neither of the other two men seemed eager to swap jobs with the mortar man.

While we might daydream of trading places with someone else, I doubt that any of us have it easy in this world. I do believe that we will all be rewarded for our labors. Whether that is a threat or a promise pretty much depends on what kind of laboring we are doing.

H. Arnett
8/5/10

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Precious Memories

Posted on August 2, 2010 by Doc Arnett

There were a few crumbs of yogurt treat on the seat of the high chair after Susan and Daniel left just over a week ago after spending five days with us. The baby carrier is still strapped into the back seat of the car. The stroller is parked against the wall in the basement. A few receipts from eating out are scattered about my usual places of putting things when I don’t feel really committed to neatness and organization.

There are also several new pictures stored on the hard drive: pictures of the croquet game, of Daniel with his mother and with his Grandpa and Grandma and Daniel in a variety of poses and activities.

I still remember the smell of him fresh from his bath and ready for bed. Skin and hair soft and clean, something dreamlike about that. Something sweet and wonderful and rooted in the best of what it is to be human. The feel of his face against my forehead and of his forehead against my chest, the squeeze of his fingers wrapped around my thumb, trying to chew on the end.

I suspect that God has similar memories of every aspect of our “growing up.” I believe that every detail and instance of our change into his likeness and nature is precious and sacred. I doubt that we have any notion at all of how many times we have been lifted up in his arms, how often he has tenderly closed his eyes and drawn us close, delighting in the closeness and aching for the day when we will see him as he is. And know as we are known.

H. Arnett
8/2/10

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Tall Grass

Posted on July 30, 2010 by Doc Arnett

The grass in the pasture was four feet tall while most of the lawn had stopped at around eighteen inches or so. The fellow who mows the yard at the church just up the road agreed to bushhog the place for us. Boy howdy, did that make a difference! For the first time this year, the place on the hill looks like someone might care a bit about it. The whole two-and-a-half acres could use raking and baling but we may have to settle for something less than that. Maybe we can burn it off next spring…

Between now and then, we’re going to try and see if we can’t turn the forage right around the house into something that looks more like a lawn. With the baby sleeping, the mower wheels set at their highest cutting and the temperature in the low nineties, Susan gave us a start on that Tuesday.

If you’ve ever tried to cut really thick, really tall grass, you have a pretty good idea of what she was doing. Every foot is a battle of sorts: the thick sod resisting the push of the wheels and the grass resisting the push of the blade. Instead of a steady onslaught, Susan had to force the mower forward, give the motor and blade time to work through, and then push on again. An hour of that sort of effort produced a thick mat of chopped clippings and a more even section on about one-tenth of the yard. By that time, Daniel was awake and one of the wheels had come unjointed, making the mower almost impossible to push. After another two rounds, Susan decided that her part of that particular project was done for the day.

Fortunately, she was able to rest for a while by strapping Daniel into his backpack carrier and priming the siding on the new horse shed. While Grandpa shoveled out a trench for the foundation block, Susan sang and painted in the shade of a pine tree. Daniel went to sleep, soothed by the sounds and motions of his mother’s nearness.

When we have learned to hear and feel our Father’s closeness, we experience a similar peace and comfort, whether we are working or at rest.

H. Arnett
7/30/10

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Getting There

Posted on July 29, 2010 by Doc Arnett

In a couple of hours, this visit with Susan and her eight-month-old son, Daniel, will come to an end. She flew here to Kansas City from Kentucky Saturday, via Chicago and an hour delay because of lightning. We have had a wonderful time.

We did some touristy stuff, visiting shops at Weston and eating first at the diner, then at O’Malley’s. We gave her a windshield tour of the architecture of Saint Joseph and ate at our favorite Mexican restaurant. And we showed her our new old two-story farmhouse. Yesterday, she worked like a field hand, pushing the lawnmower through the dense fescue of the yard that hadn’t been mowed at all this season until a neighbor came over last week with a bushhog and then helping paint the new horse shed.

We also spent a bit of time playing with Daniel and taking care of him. The backpack carrier that I bought at Once Upon a Child was worth at least five times what I paid for it.

All grandchildren are exceptional, of course, even those who don’t live in Lake Woebegone. As my just turned ninety-five-year-old mother said to Daniel a few weeks ago, “I believe you’re the happiest little fellow I ever saw.” Of course, neither she nor we have had to deal with the days and nights of cutting teeth or having the croup. Therefore, we can maintain such claims with a clear conscience.

There is something about a happy baby that draws attention and touches people. The responsive smile of a small child brings us a very special joy. For a moment, we don’t contemplate what was deserved or what we had earned; we simply enjoy the gift that we have been given.

To delight in one’s children and grandchildren, to absorb the knowing of those we love, to give and receive for the pleasure rather than the reward: in these things, we emulate the One who has made us. In them, we become what family was meant to be.

H. Arnett
7/29/10

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Come On In

Posted on July 23, 2010 by Doc Arnett

I’d invited another couple to come over and visit a while yesterday, setting the visit late enough to be after supper and early enough to leave some evening left. They had, indeed, already eaten when they arrived. We hadn’t.

We had a good visit, sharing stories of growing up and raising children, the sort of talk that helps folks get to know each other and lays the foundation for deeper bonds later. They seemed to enjoy the increase in acquaintance as much as we did; they stayed until just after nine.

By that time, I figured our favorite restaurant would be closed already but decided to call them anyway. The manager answered the phone. In response to my question, Rafael answered, “We’re open until 9:30.” I thanked him and hung up the phone. When I told Randa what time they closed, she observed, “That’s only fifteen minutes from now.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, resigning myself to a peanut butter sandwich.

But then, I remembered that El Maguey’s also provides carryout. I called back and placed our order. Just as I was finishing the list, Rafael recognized my voice; we’ve been regular customers there for eight years now. “Is this the man who just bought the house over on 36 Highway?” he asked. I confessed it was.

“You can come on in,” he invited, “That’s fine. We’re open for you.”

Indeed they were. When we walked in five minutes later, our table was ready for us. Plates, drinks and pico de gallo were waiting; the quesadillas and grilled shrimp were there in a couple more minutes. While the other customers were finishing their last bits and leaving, we started eating. While his workers were busy closing and cleaning, Rafael came by two or three times to see if we needed anything else. It was obvious that he was delighted to have us come in, even though it meant working a little longer.

Our friend, Jesus, is no less eager to receive us as his guests. No matter how late it is.

H. Arnett
7/23/10

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Here It Comes

Posted on July 22, 2010 by Doc Arnett

It may be that today’s heat index will indeed reach the projected one-hundred-and-twelve degree mark. If it does, I’m hoping that my acquaintance is mostly cognitive and minimally experiential. Just in case, I’ll drink lots of water while working in the air-conditioned sanctuary of my office. Should some aspect of the day’s duties call me into that heat, I’ll watch myself, taking it even and deliberate, moving slowly enough to avoid exhaustion and quickly enough to not get painted.

I’d reckon there are nearly as many people who do not properly prepare and pace themselves in these heat waves as there are people who don’t spend as much time in prayer as they should before stepping out into this world’s oppressive force. One thing for sure, if you’re not ready for it, it will put you flat on your back.

H. Arnett
7/22/10

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Rest from the Storm

Posted on July 21, 2010 by Doc Arnett

Dark skies to the west and south and north and east matched the radar image on the national weather service site yesterday evening; it certainly seemed that thunderstorms could easily develop. So, being the prudent and cautious couple that we are, Randa and I decided that was the perfect time to go work on the roof of the horse shed. One thing for sure: we weren’t going to need sun block.

By seven, the heat index had dropped to at least twenty degrees lower than it was the evening we’d put the tarpaper on the roof. With slate clouds bellying by overhead, I backed the truck up to the east opening of the shed. After I scored a line across the back, Randa broke off the tabs to create the starter shingles. I set a ladder across the tailgate and fastened the first row as Randa handed them to me one at a time. Then, we moved up onto the roof. The air felt like rain could start at any instant as I climbed up the ladder.

As we worked, with darker clouds pushing toward us from the southwest, a cool breeze came up, rustling the leaves of the huge cottonwood tree and sounding like rain. “That air sure feels good,” I commented as we nailed. “Yes, it does,” Randa responded, “a lot better than it did Saturday.”

The sky darkened up still more. Out loud, I wondered if we should quit before we got soaked or just keep working. We kept working and a few minutes later, while Randa had gone down to run an errand, it started raining. Randa ducked under the shed. I kept putting down shingles, weaving the new course into the old ones on the building we’d built onto for the horse shed. In a couple of minutes, the shower was over.

An even fresher air followed the rain. Randa came back up the ladder and we finished the east side just after it got too dark to see my cut marks for the shingles. In spite of the threat of rain and storm, it had turned out to be an almost perfect evening for working on a roof in the hottest week of the summer.

Sometimes the Lord brings us refreshing in the midst of our labors and sometimes we have to work on in the drenching sweat and sapping heat. We give him thanks for cool water and for the strength to work until our work is done. Sometimes, it is the storm itself that gives us rest.

H. Arnett
7/21/10

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Long Day

Posted on July 19, 2010 by Doc Arnett

Randa and I put in about seventeen hours Saturday. Most of that was spent prepping this house for showing to the prospective buyers scheduled to tour at four in the afternoon. We started just after five in the morning. I spent most of my day trying to create the illusion of an organized basement area while Randa focused on cleaning the upper floors. At three-thirty in the afternoon, while doing my final touches in the basement, I dropped a glass bottle on the floor. It wasn’t empty. Gotta love those Shop-Vacs!!

Then, after the young couple left and we spent an hour of so talking, we went over to the new place we’re buying and where we’re building a small shed for the Arabian horse that Randa put on layaway a month ago. We’d put on roof decking but needed to cover it with tarpaper to slow down the buckling from the rains until we could put on shingles.

As soon as we stepped out of the truck, we began to sweat like a couple of field hands in a tobacco field. There was no breeze, no air stirring at all. Just an oppressive sweltering stillness.

By the time we’d worked fifteen minutes, I was drenched with sweat. Even with the sun down, the heat index was in the mid-nineties. Having the hammer stapler jam up three or four times did not facilitate the rapid completion of the project nor lower the frustration factor. I had to finish the last strip of black paper by hammering in roofing nails instead of using the staples. By the time the last nail was hammered home, it was past dark.

And so we drove home in a pickup truck with no working AC, our clothes soaked with sweat. The air that felt so hot and oppressive while we were working was rather refreshing plowing through the windows at fifty-five miles an hour. It was nice, for sure. But the cleaning, cooling surge of the shower, the slight, just right pounding of water against skin and muscle, now that was downright rejuvenating!

After all our work on this earth is done, after all of our tears and sweat have been poured out, after we have finished our last day under this world’s sun, we will lie down to a rest unimaginable. A cleansing of peace and solace from all our afflictions, all our laboring. There, in the comfort of Abraham’s bosom, we will await the returning of our Lord.

Unless, of course, he comes back before we get done.

H. Arnett
7/19/10

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