Dark Waters

Posted on June 22, 2010 by Doc Arnett

As the current series of storms continues in the upper Midwest, with one thunderstorm after another chasing the rest, it was bound to happen sooner or later; a levee in Holt County broke. The breach sent floodwaters rolling across fertile farmland and forced residents of the area to leave. The flood level in some places has now eclipsed the high muddy mark of 1993.

Floodwaters leave a stubborn stench and stain as they drain away. Days of digging, scraping, shoveling and cleaning follow in the aftermath along with dozens of decisions about what to clean and redeem and what to give up as lost.

It seems more desirable to think of God as holding all levees, keeping the surge of the storm away from us, protecting us from life’s roiling tempests. We likely prefer to think of his mighty hand covering us, shielding us, forming an invisible barrier of exemption from the harshness of a hostile world.

While seemingly more desirable, such an image promotes distortion, an inaccurate focus on material circumstances. It is ripe for disillusionment and disbelief when the waters do, indeed, cascade around our feet and rise toward the ceiling. I actually prefer the image of a God who is there with us, feet in the mud, strong arms lifting sandbags, who fights the flood with us but finally says, “You know what? You’re going to have to leave this place for a while.”

Our God allows the furies of this world to remind us of proper perspective and righteous priority. He leads us to a safer place, helps us clean up after and is always with us, no matter how high the waters on either side of the levee. He knows that we sometimes make the wrong choice and is able to clean away the muck we make of our lives.

H. Arnett
6/22/10

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Plan B

Posted on June 16, 2010 by Doc Arnett

Apparently, the rain storm that moved through yesterday morning had not concerned itself with the weather forecast I’d seen online just before midnight; the forecast didn’t list any chance of rain and instead indicated “partly cloudy.” Being equally indifferent to my expectations and the meteorologists’ prognostications, the storm proceeded with its own plan for the day: lightning and thunder preceded, proceeded and accompanied by varying amounts of rainfall.

And so, we set more trashcans under the multiple leaks over the stairs in Irvin Hall and went on about our usual business. I got a six-minute haircut during the noon half-hour and helped myself to the rest of Randa’s turkey wrap for lunch. Back at home in the late afternoon/evening, I mowed the yard, ate supper and applied about forty-six pounds of leveling compound to the floor of what increasingly looks like it could become a bedroom in the basement.

On some days when the weather is not what was predicted, we go ahead and do pretty much what we had planned to do. On others, we change our plans and do something else, something rather different from what we had expected. Most often, doing something is far more productive than lamenting the distance between what we had hoped for and the reality of our lives. But, of course, it must be admitted that it is the nature of what we do that determines whether or not it is a better choice.

Doing nothing at all is better than doing something bad.

H. Arnett
6/16/10

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Prayer for Today

Posted on June 15, 2010 by Doc Arnett

May your faith be replenished
by him who does not waver.
May your hope be strengthened
by him whose promises never fail.
May your love be fanned into flame
by him whose grace led him to die
for those
who hated him,
who abused him,
who tortured him,
who put him to death.

May your strength be in him
who conquered the grave,
who saved you
while you were yet in sin,
whose love is indescribable,
whose power is unimaginable,
whose strength is incomprehensible
whose mercy extends to the whole earth.

Amen.

H. Arnett
6/15/10

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Home Place

Posted on June 14, 2010 by Doc Arnett

Back in ’93, we had what was called a “thousand year flood.” Saint Joseph, along with pretty much all of the upper Midwest and the Missouri, Ohio and Mississippi River basins, saw water levels that were unprecedented. Devastation was widespread as homes, businesses and even entire towns were basically destroyed by the black roiling waters. According to the local TV forecast this morning, the Missouri River at Saint Joseph is expected to crest at “its highest level since the Flood of ’93.”

The good news is that the highest level since ’93 is still several feet lower than ’93. The bad news is that for some people, that will still not be low enough. Along the lower areas of the flood plain, families are preparing once again for evacuation.

Naturally, some of us hill dwellers don’t understand why these people go through this again and again. “Why don’t they just move out?” we ask one another, with blended tones of perplexity and criticism. Part of it is pure economics, I suspect. There is a rather pronounced disadvantage in selling flood plain property and purchasing out-of-the-flood-plain property. Selling cheap and buying high seldom results in monetary advantage.

Another reason is the determination angle; some folks just aren’t going to let a river run them off from their home place. And, that last little bit is another reason: home place.

It’s the years of living and belonging, of knowing folks, of having shared some of the worst and best that life can send your way. It’s memories of the kids playing in the driveway and building the room onto the back of the house, and cookouts and picnics and the time the neighbor got sick and everyone pitched in to fix his roof. In other words, it’s pretty much all the same things that make any of us grow attached to a certain place, regardless of how the rest of the world views it. And once the notion of “home” is fully formed in us, it can be awfully difficult to pry us away from it.

And that, my friends, is why it’s so important for believers to remember that this world is not their home.

H. Arnett
6/14/10

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Time for Pruning

Posted on June 11, 2010 by Doc Arnett

Yesterday was a bit humid but moderate in regard to temperature. Really, just a nice June day. In the time of the evening when the air begins to cool but before the mosquitoes set in, Randa and I began trimming the roses by the porch. They have been particularly lovely this year, having responded quite enthusiastically to a drastic trimming early in the spring. They provided an absolute profusion of pink low along the east wall, a wonderful accent to the stone base and brick wall.

We worked together, snipping off the spent blooms and tossing them into a large trash can. Randa was more inclined to leave blooms that might have a day or two left before their shattering; I more followed the path of pragmatism that would rather sacrifice that extra time of wilted petals than come back for more trimming in a few days. I did, however, work my way around any forming buds, leaving them to show their colors after a little more sun and time.

It is a patient work, this culling out of what is dead and the leaving alone of what has promise. It is often easy to make the wrong snip, to take away what could have soon been lovely. It is easy, too, to overlook the brown crown of what was once a flower, leaving it dark beneath the leaves and green. In examining ourselves, in deciding what should flourish and what should be taken away, we should exercise at least the diligence of trimming roses.

And perhaps, from time to time, ought to get a second opinion.

H. Arnett
6/11/10

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Window Watching

Posted on June 10, 2010 by Doc Arnett

While I was writing yesterday morning, Randa came into the office and quickly walked over to the northeast window. Openly the blinds, she said, “Look at this.”

A reddish orange glow filled the sky beyond and above the tree line, bright, vivid, surreal. I looked, briefly, returned to my writing. “We ought to go down and sit on the porch for a few minutes,” I thought, “Watch the sky for a while.” I decided to do that, just as soon as I finished the piece I was writing, which was nearly done.

Five minutes later, I completed the contemplation and posted it to my blog. Downstairs, I walked through the living room and stepped onto the porch. The sky was a colorless block of gray, not even the slightest tinge of color. Apparently, the first bit of morning found the sun shining briefly through a low opening in the clouds that closed as the front edged eastward. That glorious burst of color lasted only three or four minutes.

There are times when our duties, or at least our perceptions of them, keep us from indulging in some pleasure, no matter how pure or simple. Dishes need washing, grass needs mowing, bills need paying and on and on. There’s a price to pay for deferring those demands. Simple tasks often become more challenging if neglected.

But there is also a price to pay when we fail to notice or fail to take time for the unexpected opportunities of simple satisfaction. In a world where the ordinary can become spectacular, yet last only an instant, we ought to live with our eyes open.

H. Arnett
6/10/10

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Prep Work

Posted on June 9, 2010 by Doc Arnett

If you really want to know how level and/or smooth a concrete floor is, you can start with a long level or some other object with a true edge. Drag that across the floor from any two perpendicular directions. Look, listen and feel. In regard to looking, visually check for space showing beneath the edge that indicates low spots. In regard to listening, bumps or “hills” will usually cause some auditory signal such as a click or a clank or other noise of similarly sophisticated description. As to feel, well, you will feel the bumps.

If you need a good place to learn and apply your learning, come on over. I’ll take you downstairs to the current project center, which is to eventually become a bedroom. Lots of opportunities there for learning about level, smoothness and the lack thereof in both cases.

I’m not sure whether this particular floor was a joint project sponsored by Hire the Handicapped and the American Society for Blind Masons or if it was just done by a series of less than competent workers. A third option is that it was done in a few stages by only one incompetent worker. Whatever the explanation in regard to origination, one thing is clear; this is not exemplary concrete work.

Bumps, dips, swirls, rough patches, pockets, ridges and ruts. It looks like some fifth grader started out making a 3-D topographical map of northeast Oklahoma. At some point, the parents stepped in and said, “We’ll never get that loaded into the back of the station wagon,” and decided to build a garage underneath the house. “If we park the car over here in this corner, that’ll cover up most of the worst section.”

And so, I’ve got some work to do before the prospective bedroom has a finished floor. Of course, there is another way to find all those defects; I could just start laying floor tile. That’ll show you where the rough spots are. Problem is, it’s a bit late for repairing the concrete at that point. Doesn’t matter how nice the tile is if it doesn’t have a good foundation. Which is kind of why salvation always begins with faith and repentance.

H. Arnett
6/9/10

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Enjoying the Garden

Posted on June 8, 2010 by Doc Arnett

It has been thundering for a while this morning, the low rumbles that come tumbling in slowly, like thinking on a morning when you weren’t quite ready for waking. We sat in the slight darkness on the sun porch, eating our toast and eggs, watching hummingbirds dispute access privileges at the sugar water dispenser near the bee balm and butterfly bush.

A flock of blackbirds hopped about, noisily feeding on whatever it is that blackbirds eat this early in the morning. One or two even pecked around the bark mulch between the hyacinth and the roses. I finally stepped out the front door and welcomed them to seek life elsewhere. There’s nothing soothing about their cackling and squawking.

Most around here might say there’s nothing soothing about the hard rain that is falling now, either. The sound of its racking against the roof and rushing along the aluminum gutters doesn’t speak of peaceful mornings and easy hours. Yet, even in this spring of too much rain, there are reminders of God’s good hand upon our lives.

We have endured through tragedy, persisted despite affliction and been spared from many torments. We have been blessed beyond deserving and been preserved through our greatest trials. And if, on a particular day, we do not welcome more rain, we may well give thanks for a good roof and a dry place to sleep.

There are many in the world who would trade places with us and well believe they have found Eden.

H. Arnett
6/8/10

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The Great Cover-Up

Posted on June 7, 2010 by Doc Arnett

It was a good thing it was small because if something that ugly was big, it would be bad. Very bad. I’m talking about the micro-bathroom on the main floor of this house. It has a toilet and a sink and barely enough room for your feet when you’re using either one of them. It’s forty-six by thirty-seven and we’re talking inches. By most any standards, that’s small. But small is not ugly; this bathroom was ugly.

Overheard, a cheap light fixture loosely attached to two translucent plastic suspended ceiling panels with orange stains from a roof that leaked at some time during the past forty years. At the floor, dark brown rubber base molding with stains of light gray adhesive showing at the seams and corners. In between, three or eight kinds of other ugly, including the cheapest imaginable trim around the doorframe and over the edge joints of the Masonite-type paneling. I haven’t seen that much ugly in that little space since my cousins got in a mud fight.

I took out the dingy plastic ceiling panels, installed drywall overhead and finished with a heavy texture. I patched every hole, seam and gap and repainted the window and walls. I replaced the worn and/or torn floor tile with new squares. I ripped off the door trim and rubber base cove and replaced them with actual molding. I tore the old non-functioning radiator out of the wall and replaced it with a custom built wooden shelf unit. I made a double-step tapered oak threshold to cover the gap and smooth the transition between the bathroom and the entryway. Around the tiny sink, I fastened ceramic tile as a splashguard. Underneath the tiny sink, I installed a tall, narrow wooden box with glossy white paint that matches the porcelain surprisingly well. The fluting helps it look more like a pedestal than a wooden box built to hide the exposed pipes.

Our bathroom is still tiny but I believe that we’ve eliminated all of the ugly and replaced it with something attractive. That’s not completely unlike the work of the Spirit in our hearts, minds and spirits. But in his work, growth is inevitable.

H. Arnett
6/7/10

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Family Matters

Posted on June 4, 2010 by Doc Arnett

As a small community college, we get a lot of new students who haven’t taken the ACT or SAT or any related thing that would let us speculate reasonably about the basic courses in which to enroll new students. Even though none of the tests predict whether or not any given student will be successful with a high degree of accuracy, the scores seem better than throwing darts at a class list. So, for those students without college readiness scores, we use COMPASS testing during the enrollment process.

Just after we sent yesterday’s group over for their session, one of the fathers in the group of waiting parents came up and began talking to me about his son. During that twenty or thirty minutes, he mentioned some of the challenges he and his wife had with the boy’s adoption and raising. “He’s not as academically gifted as his brothers,” the father confided. One brother was an engineer and the other a physician; this kid surprised his dad by even graduating from high school.

The man went on to describe the three-year process it had taken for them to adopt the kid, who had been in their care ever since he was six hours old. Just after other duties took me away from the conversation, I was called to evaluate writing samples to determine English placement.

One of the three topic choices asked students to describe some important event from their lives. Soon after I started reading the fifth or sixth sample, I realized I was reading the essay written by that man’s son. After describing the same time frame and challenges, the young man identified several of the blessings that came to him as a result of his adoption. He speculated that had he been left in the care of his biological parents, he might very well have ended up dead or in prison.

It was gratifying, touching and humbling for me to have this unanticipated opportunity from the converging stories of two strangers. It was especially poignant to be blessed by what appeared to be coincidences that could not have been predicted: this was the first father in seven years of enrollments to just walk up out of the blue and start talking to me and only the second time in seven years I’d been asked to evaluate the writing samples. I hope that I am being a good steward of the story.

His son’s expression of gratitude was simple, yet powerful. And if an adoption into an earthly family evokes such appreciation, how much more ought we to feel and express for having been adopted into the family of God?

H. Arnett
6/4/10

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