Still Night

On the last night of the decade, a blue moon shone full and bright. The snow that came just before Christmas seemed to glow in that light. Tree shadows interwove across the brilliant white. I cannot imagine that a night could be any brighter without some sort of cosmic cataclysm. When moon shadows show up as clear and crisp as those did on that night under a full moon shining through winterclear air, it’s hard to think the night could be brighter.

But it was still night.

Even in our most lucid moments, even when all that we consider seems to be clear, even when our minds seem to make sense of every detail in our lives, is there not something that seems to say “There is still mystery?” Even in those scenes of greatest beauty, when the grandeur before us compels us to marvel, is there not some hint that there is spectacle yet to be witnessed? Even in those moments of most tender intimacy, when it seems that souls share the same heart and mind, when friends and family wrap us warmly in closest embrace, is there not still a sense that we do not yet know as we might be known?

Perhaps all of that is witness of the perpetual searching of human, the constant hunger for more, the seeking that is hallmark of mortals. And perhaps it is evidence that our spirits and souls know more than we can comprehend. Perhaps it is signal that the spiritual in us is drawn to something greater, something vast and wonderful and unending. Perhaps it is the whispering of God, drawing us in the beauty of the coldest night, joining us in our closest encounters, urging us to love as we are loved.

Even though we cannot fully comprehend that truth, that beauty, that love, we may know that it is real. There were those who touched it, saw it, walked with it. We also have their testimony, as well as the other. We will make it through this night.

H. Arnett
1/14/10

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Good Help

There is evidence in this attic of previous projects. Scraps of wood, pieces of wiring and mysterious mats of insulation with no perceivable connection to anything in this building. Most telling, though, are the old rafters and wooden shingles from a previous roof and a brick chimney vent taken down to just below the level of the newer roof. There seems to have been a minimalist philosophy of sorts.

Rather than completely tear out the old, it seems that the former workers merely removed what was necessary in order to do their work. The old wooden shingles, possibly nearing a hundred years old now, are so dry and thin and dusty that it would take little more than a spark to start a fire.

It is less concern about fire and more concern about breathing that has Paul and me wearing masks as we check out the wiring. I marvel at his complete willingness to join me in this task. In addition to the inescapable odor of the fire and smoke, there is nothing that can be moved here without stirring up dust and dirt. It fills the air as we move from section to section, careful to step, kneel or crawl only on the joist edges so that we don’t break through the ceiling and create more work for ourselves. We know that our hair, clothes and skin will bear the unmistakable traces of where we have been. When we climb down a couple hours later, we will look as if we have been working in a mineshaft.

Even though we know that, we continue, knowing also that the work we are doing here is important and will make the building safer and healthier. Another carpenter long ago surveyed a work that needed doing, a work that would bring him in touch with the dirt and filth and shame of this world. A work that left redemption in its wake and evidence in his body of the price he paid.

He also sent someone else to work beside us, providing in his Holy Spirit a completely willing presence and power that enables us to perform whatever work we are given.

H. Arnett
1/13/10

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Deep Stuff

On the morning after the most recent snow, I-29 on the northeast side of Saint Joe looked like a huge shuffleboard court. Cars and pickups lay strewn around the edges of the interstate. Most looked as if they’d simply been parked rather carelessly in the median or on the shoulder but some had rolled up onto their sides. All would stay pretty much where they were until some greater force came to move them back to a better place.

All around the city, especially on the side streets that have not been plowed, neighbors and strangers continue to help one another. Even front wheel drive and winter tires make very little difference when a car ends up “bottomed out” in the deep snow. Some times, a bit of a push is enough and sometimes it takes some digging. Sometimes, it’s going to take something more dramatic.

I wouldn’t think that any of us have never been in need of some help after a storm. An extra push, another shovel and shoulder, a length of chain, someone else to come to us in our need, our inconvenience, our disaster. Our response of help to others might be based on our empathy, spurred by remembrance of our own needs in times past or in anticipation of those in the future. It might be that we consider that it’s just the right thing to do. And it could be that it’s simply an act of appreciation for the one who came to us in our helplessness, gave us what we did not deserve and spared us from what we did deserve.

At any rate, I do know that showing love to friends, neighbors and strangers is a good thing, in and after any storm.

H. Arnett
1/12/10

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Boots & Mittens

Woohoo! It’s already up to eighteen degrees here in River City this morning! On its way to a predicted twenty-six degrees… It’s almost comical how pleasant an unpleasant thing can seem after a couple of weeks of pain. Almost.

Humans have a remarkable capacity to quickly adapt to a remarkable variety of factors: cold, heat, and deprivation of a number of sorts. Equally remarkable and much less impressive is our capacity to become spoiled in a very short time. Someone else shovels our sidewalk a few times and we come to expect it. Someone else does the laundry and we soon feel that is the natural order of things. Someone else sweeps our floors, empties our trash and turns out the lights and we rather enjoy that particular division of labor.

It is an easy temptation for us to become overly adjusted to a certain level of spoiling and lose our compassion for others less spoiled. Being poor does not guarantee empathy for other poor people any more than being rich guarantees indifference. Each rung of the economic ladder seems to carry its own inclinations. What would be good, in a number of ways, actually, is to deliberately cultivate a habit of gratitude both for the blessings we receive and for the sparing from worse afflictions.

To apply a bit of a twist to an old adage, it is better to give thanks for the coat than to curse the cold. Better yet to live a life that is controlled by something more powerful than the weather.

H. Arnett
1/11/10

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Arctic Express

Some days, it just doesn’t pay to be an informed person. A man can stand a bit of trouble when it comes his way. A woman can tolerate some degree of disappointment when it happens from time to time. But to see it coming at you like a train can make you feel like jumping right off the track. Even when your section of track happens to be suspended over a big gully. You just might go right ahead and jump anyway. Take your chances with the rocks. There are times when we’d like to know ahead of time and others when we’d just as soon only to have to endure the train wreck and be spared the knowing about it ahead of time. Not have to endure the dread and the event, too.

Well, Gerty, I tell ya, I’ve ruined that for the Old Minus Thirty Artic Express headed our way; I just took a look at the twenty-four-hour forecast for Saint Joe. It ain’t pretty!

Today, our high will be below zero. Tomorrow morning at this time, the prediction is for minus nineteen. That does NOT include the wind chill, which will send ‘er down another fourteen or fifteen degrees. If I end up on a jury trying a manslaughter case in which the defendant is accused of killing someone who recently talked about “global warning,” I can guarantee a hung jury if not an outright acquittal!

Truth is, I actually am glad to know about this next round of record setting lows for Saint Joe. I’ll go ahead and do that heat tape on the water pipes project I’ve been putting off for a while. Might be I ought to apply an even more diligent preparation in response to those warnings I’ve been hearing about the Lord’s Day.

H. Arnett
1/08/10

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Behind the Seens

It was a long day’s work with very little to show for it. It was not that the work was fruitless and it was certainly not that there was any lack of effort. We spent much of the morning doing the preparatory things that were necessary for the assault upon the Unsafe and Unseemly in the attic: moving old trim pieces down to the basement and the old gas pipe from the attic outside. Then, while Paul and I went to Lowes to get electrical supplies, Kevin and Travis finished resetting joists in the small bedroom and then started the tear-out on another wall.

Paul and I spent the rest of the day in the attic, tracing the maze of flexible metal conduit, fiber jacketed wire and Romex. We removed the loose wire and replaced two unboxed splices. We also ripped out a couple of hot wires that seemed to serve no other purpose than to scare onlookers and precipitate expression of great appreciation that the building had not self-ignited at some point in the past.

When we climbed back down from the attic around six last night, there was no evidence visible from underneath that we had done anything. Kevin and Travis’s work was obvious; naked studs stood as stark evidence that the old lath and plaster had been stripped away. Even though what Paul and I had done took a fair amount of effort and without doubt made things safer, there was no way for others to perceive that without a deliberate investigation.

It is often that way with the work of our lives and we have no idea how much tragedy we have been spared because of the unseen labors of others. In no small way, this includes their prayers on our behalf.

H. Arnett
1/07/10

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Fire Prevention

In the aftermath of the apartment fire, my brother from Ohio, my brother-in-law, Kevin, and his stepson, Travis, have been working with me tearing up, cleaning up and otherwise doing the lugging, lifting and dumping that are all part of what it takes to begin restoration of the apartment.

Kind of like the attention a huge screw-up brings to a previously unnoticed recruit in boot camp, our apartment is now fixed on the radar of certain city employees such as fire inspectors and code enforcement officers. In anticipation of that expected attention, I am seeing the building with new eyes.

 While Kevin and Travis focused their efforts on removing several hundred pounds of old bedroom plaster and lath, Paul and I embraced the delectable task of stripping out old wiring in the attic. We cut off wire, loosened connectors, pried loose metal junction boxes and pulled out wiring. That included some of the old knob-and-tube strands which though no longer used could arouse suspicion that I didn’t want coming from persons with the power to cut power from a building. When it comes to inspectors, the less reason to provoke curiosity, the better.

 We also found splices that had not been housed in metal junction boxes or in any other kind of junction box. These, as you may know or well guess, are not safe, not approved and not liked by people whose business it is to identify Little Things That Kill People. When we probed areas of the attic that I’d never looked at before, we made discoveries even more perturbing.

 To squeeze through a narrow opening, I crawled over an old wire. Once through the passage, I kneeled on a pair of joists and pulled out my tester.

Finding out the wire was hot by use of a non-contact tester is a much less emphatic process than finding out by the Twist, Twitch and Spasm Method.

Finding out that this particular wire was hot become more memorable when I pulled on it and found it unconnected at one end. What made the discovery most vivid, though, was seeing that its exposed hot wire was covered with nothing more than a couple of turns of very old black tape. I imagine that an inspector discovering such a thing would lose no time in ordering power cut to the building and order a full regimental inspection that included everything inside or outside the building and everything within a twenty foot perimeter of the building. Lord willing, the end of this new day will find that wire in a trashcan and the attic in safer condition.

 There’s nothing like a fire in your life to generate all kinds of new scrutiny and examination, even of things unrelated to the fire itself. Just ask a few previous presidential candidates. Even when the opportunities do not come about in desired ways, we should never shy away from taking a fresh, tough look at our lives. A proper response to those discoveries could drastically lower our risk factors.

 H. Arnett

1/6/10

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Storm Salvage

It was not exactly the way we wanted to end the old year or the first decade of the century. While we had no reservations for dinner theater or any of the available New Year’s Eve galas across the country, this still was not an opportunity we sought out. The good news is that our renter escaped without physical harm.

She came home from working her night shift, obviously too tired to make good decisions. The first bad one in the series was the one to put a pan of grease on the stove in order to cook French fries. The worse one was choosing to lie down for a while, while the grease heated up. It was on fire when she woke up. Had the fire department arrived just a few minutes later, the entire building would have been in flames.

And so it was that she ended the year loosing virtually every possession that she had acquired. Between the fire, the heat and the smoke, nearly every article of clothing, every picture of family, every little thing she owned was either destroyed or ruined. As for us, we have the opportunity to remodel the apartment and are discovering the subtle nuances of city codes, “insurance gaps,” and fire restoration. We celebrated New Year’s Day by rigging alternative power to the furnace and replacing insulation under the bathroom. Not a minute too soon, either; it is fourteen below zero this morning in Saint Joe, Missouri.

The good news is that my brother, Paul, flew out from Ohio Sunday to help us for a few days. It is the first time he and I have worked together since we were grown. Even in the midst of trial, tragedy or just plain ole aggravation, there is blessing.

This is one that I treasure.

H. Arnett
1/05/10

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Opportunity

We were over at Wal-mart late yesterday afternoon, not wanting to wait until the absolute last minute to get some of the seasonal shopping done. The place was crowded, which was not a huge surprise. Having walked in to pick up the proverbial “just a couple of things,” we soon found ourselves needing a shopping cart.

After I made my way to the front of the store where the shopping carts are usually lined up as plentiful as lobbyists on the Beltline, I found a young man gathering up his sacks. As he turned to leave, I asked him, “Are you finished with this cart?” He confirmed the obvious. When I turned then to head back toward electronics, I saw a young couple looking around. The man was holding a toddler in one arm and had the look of utter delight that one wears when the beginning of a dreaded shopping excursion begins with the inability to find a shopping cart.

Masking my secret selfishness, I asked, with no trace of reluctance in my voice and hopefully none on my face, “You folks need a shopping cart?”

Owing either to the success of my acting job or his own desperation, he enthusiastically accepted the offer. I picked my packages back up out of the cart and managed to smile as I pushed it toward him.

As he put the baby into the cart, I noticed a young woman looking around with pretty much the same expression as I now had. “You looking for a cart, too?” Of course. Every shopper who had walked through the doors in the last ten minutes was looking for a shopping cart. Just as I resigned myself to an outdoor search and rescue mission, some generous soul came walking in, pushing five carts. “Yes, Elizabeth, there is a Santa Claus.”

And so folks, I encourage you to be the unexpected consideration, the unplanned but at least slightly appreciated kindness in someone’s day today. Even if it is the Christmas season. You’ll probably have more opportunities than you really wanted. Especially if you’re out shopping…

H. Arnett
12/23/09

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This Ain’t No Dream, Baby!

This Ain’t No Dream, Baby

Well, I hope Bing Crosby is happy; I’ve been shoveling his dream for the past three days! And yes, I’ll admit that it is lovely on a day with nothing else to do but sit inside by a roaring fireplace, sipping hot chocolate and watching the flakes twirl down in mesmerizing swirl. There is beauty, too, in the long sloping drifts and the curious lips that form over the edges of walls, and in the pockets that surround trunks and posts and whatever else altered the winds that have blown. Lovely, too, are the incredible shapes that formed in such places as the bends in the stonewall planters and above the old green garden hose hanging against the brick in the lee of the southern wall.

But when the wind sends the drifting snow back across the steps I’ve shoveled four times now, it’s harder to appreciate the beauty. When cars stall out on level streets with the ten inches of snow above the layer of frozen sleet beneath, thoughts other than beauty often enter into the realm of consciousness.

There is a certain deliberateness necessary in times such as this, in the aftermath of our first blizzard in twenty-something years. An acceptance of the inconvenience and duty that comes with the sweeping beauty of such a storm. A choosing of sorts that marvels at the mounded snow deep on the rails of the trailer while shoveling a path to the garage and a rejoicing in the blessings of sturdy walls and firewood stacked beside the door. It is easier to consider that even storms bring wonder when we have a well-stocked pantry and a warm place to sleep at night.

H. Arnett
12/28/09

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