Woodworking

Posted on July 30, 2009 by Doc Arnett

About fifteen years ago, Dad took me down to his basement workshop to show me a corner cabinet he was building. As I bent over and ran my hand along the edge of the cypress stock, he commented, “I know I don’t do as good of work as you do; you’re a furniture builder and I’m just a cabinet maker. But I think it’s turning out pretty well.”

His comment took me by surprise as I was more used to him pointing out what was wrong with something I’d made rather than complimenting my skill. I straightened up, turned and looked at him. He continued staring down at the cabinet as I said softly, “No, Dad, you do OK. This is looking good.” “Well,” he responded, “I know you’d do a better job on it but I think they’re going to be happy with it.”

I wonder what he would think about the project Randa and I are working on now. Since Sunday evening, we’ve been busy as beavers after a dam breaks: cutting, fitting, sanding, seaming, painting, staining, varnishing, stitching, sewing, hemming, hammering and such. You can probably figure out which of the verbs have been my responsibility and which have been Randa’s. Knowing that Dad has been lingering on death’s threshold for over a week, we’ve put in long hours each day, hoping to have the casket finished by the time it was needed.

Yesterday evening, about six-thirty, we got the call that it is needed. I think Dad decided we’d had enough time and that he had, too. Today, Lord willing, we’ll put in the lining, put on the handles, finish the trim on the lid and have the coffin ready for the five hundred and forty mile trip to Murray, Kentucky.

I think it’s turning out pretty well and I hope he’s happy with it. He always liked oak furniture and in spite of the time pressure, I think Randa and I have managed to make something that’s a bit better than serviceable. I hope it’s something that Mom and my sisters and brothers will be pleased with.

Just in case Dad and I need something to talk about later, though, I’m not going to fill that little gap in the corner trim.

H. Arnett
7/30/09

Posted in Aging, Death & Dying, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Woodworking

Breakfast on the Porch

Posted on July 29, 2009 by Doc Arnett

Red beards of bee balm
burn in the low slant
of early morning sun.

Stretching from the shadows,
purple cones of butterfly bush
catch the angle of light
in the corner between the east porch
and the dining room.

Already,
a few bees work the blooms
and hummingbirds take turns at the feeder.

The morning air is cool,
inviting
in this after-passing of yesterday’s rain.

Steady drizzle
alternated with sessions of hard showers,
hours of rain coming in the way
that soaks into the ground,
leaving little run-off in fields and pastures,
a good refreshing for the crops.

In this the last week of July,
there is an unbelievable green that greets the eye,
a witness of mild heat and frequent rain.

The bed of roses
bursts with pink and red by the window.
Lilies bloom above the stone retaining wall.
Hostas gleam huge and green,
striped with white and yellow
beneath the overhanging shade of trees on the bank.

I sit for a few minutes longer,
indulging in this lavish beginning
of the day the Lord has made.

7/29/09

Posted in Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , | Comments Off on Breakfast on the Porch

Patterns

Posted on July 28, 2009 by Doc Arnett

From the time of my childhood, I’ve seen how some people respond to others, monitoring their actions, responding to them in kind, returning sleight for sleight, insult for insult, hurt for hurt. With them, even family members have to earn their place at the table, so to speak. Love and approval seem to be so intertwined that it is scarcely possible to distinguish between the two. Do something good, get something nice. Do something bad, pay the price. I’ve seen actions that were surely unintentional punished for years: exclusions from invitations, kept from communications, ignored at social gatherings.

I’ve seen others who choose to use the way of forgiveness and forbearance. Insults and sleights are ignored and peace is offered in a hundred different ways. Rather than fuel the insatiable fire of retaliation and the sinister ways of silence, they continue to love, embrace and live. Rather than counting the cuts, they just use salve and smile, welcoming the continued associations rather than grieving the self-inflicted separations.

There are powerful lessons in these things and powerful forces at work. Either we teach our children and ourselves that love is unconditional or we teach them that it is earned and subject to change without notice. Either we teach that relationship is more important than justice or that neither blood nor love is more important than what is deserved. Either we learn to live by grace and mercy or we writhe in the agony of actions dictated by law and judgment.

Is it really that tough to choose?

H. Arnett
7/28/09

Posted in Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Patterns

Bird Brain

Posted on July 27, 2009 by Doc Arnett

There was a small clump of something in the middle of the alley early this morning when I left on a quick errand. When I returned, it was still there and in the better light looked quite a bit like a small bird. I drove over it slowly and carefully, figuring it would either stay safely in its current place under the middle of the truck or participate in its own Darwinian moment. It didn’t budge.

After I parked the truck, I walked back over for a closer look. That closer look indicated that it was indeed a bird. Specifically, it appeared to be a headless sparrow. Further investigation suggested that its head might be tucked under its wing. “Maybe it’s sleeping,” I thought, “though it is a bit odd that it would have stayed asleep with a truck driving over it and with a person walking up to it.”

“Hey, little fellow,” I greeted it, with no thought as to whether or not any neighbors might be witnessing a middle-aged professor attempting to have a conversation with an mentally impaired bird. No response. So, I reached down gently and nudged it slightly with the back of my finger.

His head popped out and he squawked, looked up at me as if in a fog. “Come on,” I urged, “you’ve got to get out of the alley before you become part of it.” No response. Obviously, my little sparrow was in training to become a high school English student. I nudged it again. It hopped. Once. So, I reached down with both hands cupped to pick it up and move it. Apparently, this was sufficient motivation for the little guy to flutter over to the dew-covered grass under some nearby bushes. “Mission accomplished,” I congratulated myself and returned to my garage project.

I had to leave again in a few minutes on another errand. That sparrow was back in the alley. Asleep on the dry warmth of the asphalt. He didn’t even twitch when I drove by, my tires passing within two feet of him. I wonder how often it is that we squawk at those who urge us to flee the coming danger, continuing our slumbering comfort rather than gaining a place of greater safety.

H. Arnett
7/27/09

Posted in Humor, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , | Comments Off on Bird Brain

The Noise of Wings

Posted on July 22, 2009 by Doc Arnett

Dark brown urine, change in skin color and loss of desire for food or drink. Those are signs, indicating that the time of his passing is close at hand. The decline that began when he tripped and fell leaving the pulpit on a Sunday evening in early March is near its culmination. A longer, slower decline had occurred over the past several years, both physically and mentally. He had moments of sharpness so acute as to bring marvel and others more inclined to bring embarrassment to those who listened and knew the Charlie Arnett of earlier years.

Fervent in preaching, devout in belief and constant in showing care to neighbors and church members, Dad has walked all but his last few steps upon this earth. He will leave the legacy of many good men: his virtues well known and his faults mostly private. This writing will do nothing to change that. Eventually, in all appraisals, we either choose to accept the bad with the good or else toss the whole lot. In the tossing, we deprive ourselves more often than not.

I have not visited in Kentucky since I saw him in the hospital in March. He was weak then, at death’s door for a day or two, but recovered to some degree for a while. My oldest brother, Richard, and his wife, Joan, have devoted many hours to providing care for him and Mom in what is sometimes a grueling duty of love. There are others who would have given more had circumstances been different. In the end, we will all be left with our own private griefs, our own sorting of memories, our own admiring and forgiving.

As to Dad’s own accounting before him who will one day open the books, it will not be the nearly seventy-eight years of preaching, the decades of working and the giving to others that will matter most. What will matter most is the verse he quoted to me in the slow dark hours of that March morning in the hospital: “I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I’ve committed unto him against that day.”

Go calmly into your rest for that day, Dad, go calmly and quickly. They’re ready for you.

H. Arnett
7/23/09

Posted in Aging, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on The Noise of Wings

Faux Painting

Posted on July 22, 2009 by Doc Arnett

Somewhere between wallpaper and the Ralph Lauren faux paint center at Home Depot, Randa and I decided to have a go at some non-traditional painting techniques and figured that our small bathroom would be just the place to practice. You know, treat the walls as our canvas. Inadvertently, the floor sort of became the easel, but, hey, you can’t make a pillow without ruffling a few feathers.

Test Plot One: start with several heavy dabs of three colors of paint, applied with sponge. If this looks too much like several dabs of paint, try smearing them around with a ten-inch drywall knife. Conclusion: try Test Plot Two.

Test Plot Two: apply different colors of paint directly to flat trowel and apply to wall, floor, exposed plumbing, old clothing, etc. Please be aware that the old clothing is being worn by a significant other, who may not have been aware that she was wearing old clothing until you pointed it out, after application. Conclusion: too much paint on floor. Note to Self: good to do this little experiment before putting down floor tile.

Test Plot Three: apply different colors of paint to wall with heavy brush streaks, then smear immediately until all of wall section is covered with the desired amounts of paint and desired effect is obtained. Apply very limited amounts of red with a small brush. Then, while significant other is trying to decide whether to change clothes or change addresses, add a few more finishing touches with the trowel. Result: too much light color and hey, enough with the trowel already.

Test Plot Four: apply dark and light colors in a four or five to one ratio with heavy brush streaks, blend immediately but on a limited basis with flat trowel. Use very, very limited amounts of red. Solicit close and constant supervision. Result: OK, I think you’ve got it! Now, let’s repaint all those test sections and then, paint the bathroom.

Conclusion: much of what we do in life, we do with the best intentions and with the least bit of expertise. Watch yourself and your actions closely and remember what worked and what didn’t. Swallow your pride, don’t be afraid to make mistakes and let things get a bit messy. On the other hand, admit that those mistakes and messes just might, possibly, to some limited degree, be your fault. And, by the way, sometimes it’s good to wear old clothes.

H. Arnett
7/22/09

Posted in Humor, Remodeling/Construction, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , | Comments Off on Faux Painting

A Fine Memory

Posted on July 20, 2009 by Doc Arnett

Ernest McElwain raised Angus cattle on his farm in Muhlenberg County, Kentucky. He also led singing at Horton’s Chapel Church of Christ where my dad preached for a few years back in the Sixties. I remember Bro. McElwain standing at the front of the congregation, patting time on the edge of the hymnal. In the vault of a young boy’s impressions, he was about six feet tall and would have weighed around two hundred and twenty pounds. In actuality, that recollection could be off by a few inches and by several pounds.

What is accurate in that memory is that he had a strong, enthusiastic voice that managed to stay on key regardless of how many followers might have drifted off a bit. He rarely said anything other than to announce the number of the song and identify which male member was to lead the prayer following. Occasionally, he would comment quietly, almost as if to himself upon finishing some hymn, “That is a beautiful song.”

There are two songs so strongly associated with Ernest McElwain that I cannot hear them without thinking of him. One is “Jesus, Lover of My Soul.” I don’t remember hearing anyone else in the fellowship leading that song and I still find something pleasing and remarkable in a west Kentucky farmer taking such obvious delight and comfort in its delicate wordings. The other is “Savior, Like a Shepherd Lead Us.” Though others did indeed lead that song, none did so in a manner that could un-rivet my association of it with him.

It would be good, I think, to make some positive, fine association with the memory of a young person. To have some good thing so firmly entrenched in their mind that the decades of life could not undo it. To be stirred in memory from time to time with such fine associations.

I haven’t seen or spoken to the man in over forty years but whenever I hear that song, I think of him. No matter who is singing, the voice I hear belongs to Ernest McElwain.

H. Arnett
7-20-09

Posted in Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off on A Fine Memory

Turning Point

Posted on July 15, 2009 by Doc Arnett

His mind comes and goes. One moment he will be talking in complete awareness, fully comprehending and making sense and in the next he’s going to milk the cows he hasn’t been around in over forty years or drive the tractor up the chimney to cut the hay on the roof.

He spends most of his time in his bed. An occasional short walk outside will leave him weak, barely able to walk back into the house. The pride of his life has been independence, often using his mind to figure out how his body could accomplish some task that most carpenters would need the help of one or even two others to do. He put up rafters by himself at times, hoisting up one end and tying it off with a rope, then pushing the other end up the ladder and heaving it into place. Then on to the next one.

I knew that he’d worked as an independent electrician in the initial years of TVA, often installing their first ever electrical service for the families in whose homes he worked.  He’d also done carpenter work during and after owning the dairy farms on which I’d grown up in southern Kentucky. He’d built the stock barn on the farm in Todd County. Through all those years, he’d preached, continuing up until a few months after his ninety-fifth birthday.

Having no memory of him having a “regular” job, I asked him a few years ago if he’d ever worked for anyone else. “I worked at a Kroger store.”

“When was that?”

“Back when I was in my twenties.”

“How long did you work there?”

“Oh, for a couple of weeks. Then I quit.”

I leaned forward toward the table, looked at him more closely and asked why he’d quit. He hesitated, looked down for a couple of seconds and then confessed, “I didn’t want someone else telling me what to do.”

Through the farming, the preaching, building houses for sale and most of all of the other things he’s done throughout his life, he’s managed to avoid that very thing. I see a good bit of that in myself and varying degrees of it in each of my siblings. The drive to accomplish things on our own, to invest whatever degree of effort it takes to finish a thing and to do it well. The same trait that makes us occasionally annoying to live with, occasionally too stubborn to listen to others, occasionally too willing to do a thing alone. Like the blade of most traits, it cuts on two sides.

I think about Dad now, relying on others to get him out of bed, to help him dress, sometimes needing help to even find the bathroom. Eventually, every pride comes home to a nest with no feathers.

H. Arnett
7/15/09

Posted in Aging, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , | Comments Off on Turning Point

A Good Example

Posted on July 13, 2009 by Doc Arnett

It was hot Saturday. Hot and humid. The kind of day that makes your collar wilt as soon as you walk out the door. Makes your clothes stick to you like a soggy sack. Pulls the curl right out of your hair. Makes two hours of work feel like ten. The kind of day that makes the sweat pop out and then just lie there because the air has already absorbed all the moisture it can absorb. It seemed like a mighty fine day to me for sitting in a recliner with a tall glass of iced tea in one hand and the remote control in the other, searching for specials on the Antarctic. My neighbor thought it was a good day for a bike ride.

He and some other zealots left Saint Joe around six in the morning, headed east on Highway 36. Out around Cameron, they turned south for a ways. Then, they turned east again, then south again. After that, I lost track. They ended up somewhere out in the area of Grain Valley, well east of Kansas City. In all, they logged a hundred and twenty-two miles. In one day. On bicycles.

As Larry Mahan would have said a few years ago, this wasn’t their first rodeo. The neighbor rides just about every day. Some days, he only does forty miles or so. Others, he’ll go for sixty. So, he’s in pretty good shape. His body fat proportion is probably somewhere in the neighborhood of point-oh-eight or something like that. Very lean and strong. So, long rides are something that he’s accustomed to and therefore is able to do without undue stress. “I was pretty wiped out when I got home last night,” he admitted on Sunday afternoon. “My legs didn’t want to work when I first woke up this morning but I’m starting to feel pretty normal again.” Well, of course, after all, it had been several hours since his marathon.

If I practiced forgiving and forbearing, giving and caring the way he practices bicycling, it’d probably feel pretty natural, wouldn’t it? Imagine if I applied similar time and effort to mercy, justice and righteousness! What if I logged turning the other cheek and returning good for evil with the same discipline and devotion? I suspect I would find myself developing a spiritual stamina that would far surpass my current meager level. It is the doing of a thing that cultivates endurance. No other way to it.

By the way, did I mention that my neighbor is seventy years old?

Posted in Spiritual Contemplation | Comments Off on A Good Example

Still Back on the Road Again-Part II

Posted on July 13, 2009 by Doc Arnett

The hitchhiker I’d picked up just west of Troy, Kansas, sat holding his notebook and Bible and telling me about his traveling ministry to the “Lord’s little lost sheep.”

“I was sitting in this homeless shelter in Texas at meal time. I had my Bible laying on the table and no one would sit down with me. ‘Lord, they hate me,’ I said. ‘No one will sit with me.’ And then the Lord said, ‘It’s not you they hate, Willie; it’s me.’

“So, I argued with him, ‘No, it’s me.'”

With northeast Kansas rolling by, William Jones looked over at me, “And then the Lord told me, ‘Put your Bible down in your lap.’ So, I put my Bible down in my lap. My table was full in no time. Then, the Lord said, ‘OK, Willie, now take your Bible back out and lay it on the table.’

“I did that. As soon as I did, everybody got up and left. ‘See,’ the Lord said, ‘I told you it was me.'”

Willie went on to tell me about other reactions people had to his Bible. Some would say, “Keep that Bible away from me,” and others would state, “I don’t believe all that stuff.” Another, according to Willie, took him to McDonald’s and bought him a meal. “I was raised up around religion,” the man told him, “but I don’t believe in it. I don’t believe it’s real.”

“I told him, ‘Well, he’s real, all right, whether you believe in him or not. And you just fed one of his little sheep.”

Well, I do believe, and I’d just given that same little sheep a ride and a chance to cool off on a hot day. But he’d given me more than that. He’d reminded me of the power of simple faith and the willingness to give up everything to follow the Lord. “My kids are all mad at me. Even though they’re all grown, they’ve disowned me. My own Dad thinks I’m an idiot; he won’t even talk to me.”

I guess Willie’s family is right; he’s definitely been touched. And, he’s touching others. As for me, I’ve been picking up hitchhikers for nearly forty years. Some, I gave a ride across town and others across the state. I’ve shared a little time and money and one I gave a place to spend the night and a bus ticket on to Memphis from Fulton, Kentucky. Whether it was little or nothing or quite a bit more, I’ve never picked up a one but what it turned out that I received more than I gave.

Posted in Spiritual Contemplation | Comments Off on Still Back on the Road Again-Part II