The Inertia of Sadness

It might be that something as simple
as raking leaves
might be the very thing
that brings about some hint of change,
some notion that finally stops
the downward motion
of the last few weeks—or months—
that seeping sense of denser gravity
that drains away all but duty.

Desire lost its fire somewhere between
dream and drudgery.
It might have started with nothing more
than a parking space at Wal-Mart
that looked empty
until you got right there ready to pull in
and only then could see
the nearly new car parked across four spaces.

And then someone at Medicare
decides that you have to pay
three months retroactive
and Blue Cross/Blue Shield of Kansas—
after collecting your COBRA payments
for six months—informs you that they
are cancelling your insurance—also retroactive—
and you’ll have to pay back
everything they’ve paid for the last three months.

And somewhere in that helpless anger
you know that the only way
to escape the danger is to focus
on what you can change
that won’t land you in prison.

And so you find yourself
raking up the leaves
that have matted the grass
for the past five months,
and realize that it actually is a lovely day
and you like the way the lawn looks now:
a fresh bit of green and the texture of fresh earth.

In might not be a new birth
but there is certainly something
welcome and refreshing
in having done a thing that needed doing
and you will lie down tonight,
warm and grateful
that you were able to rake leaves today
and not lie rotting underneath them.

H. Arnett
3/19/19

Posted in Metaphysical Reflection, Poetic Contemplations, Poetry, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Off the Tracks

Just saw a picture of a derailed train, purportedly in New Mexico. Even though no one was injured according to the report, derailments are always a bit unsettling to me; trains are notoriously pathetic at off-rail navigation and locomotion. What was more unsettling was reading about what caused the derailment.

It wasn’t sabotage, a stalled car on the tracks or poor rail maintenance. It was wind. Not a tornado, straight-line wind.

Having skipped most of my physics and engineering classes on the way to my shop-teaching degree, I don’t know what level of wind it takes to blow a train off the tracks. I’d reckon it involves a number of factors such as weight, wind speed, angle of thrust, surface area, friction, and so forth.

I also suspect that it’s not a matter of the wind suddenly knocking the whole train right off the track. I assume that we’re dealing with a train that was chugging along at thirty-five miles an hour or faster. If that is indeed the case, I speculate that if the wind manages to destabilize two or three cars, that’s sufficient to get the entire derailing process in motion. Maybe a really strong blast of wind hits at just the wrong moment. The weight, inertia, and vibration of those few cars presumably initiate a chain reaction that works in both directions, pulling the others off the tracks until the whole thing is lying on its side.

Ever hit that point in your life? You know, where this or that part slides off-kilter? Next thing you know, another key piece comes sliding after and then all it once you feel like you must be Casey Jones riding Old 97 right off of the mountain? You just hope you end up on top instead of underneath all that twisted bunch of scrap iron. And not scalded to death by the steam…

Maybe there was a warning shudder or two? A little hint that something wasn’t just right? If we’d slowed down a mile or two back, might have been okay. Too late for that now, though. But that’s okay.

It might take a while, but with the right help and equipment, most lives can be salvaged. Our God has been dealing with shipwrecks, train wrecks, and brain wrecks for quite a long while; he can probably sort us out of this pile and get us back on track.

We may very well carry a few dents and run a little slower for a while. Likely as not, we could have to leave a car or two at the bottom of the ravine. We might also have to consider the possibility that there are some days when even the strongest train needs to slow down a bit more. Or maybe wait a while for the storm to ease up.

It’s usually better to miss a deadline than be one.

H. Arnett
3/14/19

Posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Metaphysical Reflection, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , | Comments Off on Off the Tracks

Slip Sliding Away

Among the questionable interests that I indulge is a love for scampering around on big rocks and boulders. Not the sort of scampering that requires bags of chalk and belaying ropes, nothing that technical. Just the sort of climbing around that causes rational mothers to gasp in apprehension but not faint from fear. Bluffs, ravines, outcroppings, the occasional canyon, what-have-you.

There’s something about climbing around on rocks that still makes me feel like a kid, though the last couple of decades have slowed me down a bit, as I was reminded late yesterday afternoon.

I was exploring a local ravine, getting ready to make my way carefully down a series of limestone boulders and ledges that form a wet-season waterfall.

I picked out a good spot for my foot on top of a three-foot high boulder a few feet below the top edge and began to ease my way down. Down happened rather more quickly than I anticipated, although it was definitely easy.

In about two beats of a hummingbird’s wings, I found myself spread-eagled and face down on the ledge below that boulder. Somehow, even with my old man reflexes, I’d managed to tilt my head back enough that my chin only slightly slammed into the stone.

After a few shocked seconds, I checked myself over. A few minor scrapes, one hyper-flexed finger, a barely nicked chin and a deeply bruised ego. My hat had fallen down to the next ledge several feet below the one I was suddenly so closely examining. I scuffed off the rest of the mud from my shoes, climbed down, picked up my hat and climbed back up.

Sometimes the pleasure of an easy path with a great view of the bluffs is better than the trail that runs right down its face. We should consider, when hiking and when living, that sometimes there are very good reasons why the other road is the one less travelled. It doesn’t really matter how much adventure may be had if you don’t survive the trip.

As for a few scrapes and bruises, well now, those are just souvenirs. And hopefully, lessons learned. Lessons that will have us singing some other Paul Simon tune. Maybe, if we don’t mind a touch of irony, “Loves Me Like a Rock.”

H. Arnett
3/8/19

Posted in Aging, Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Exercise, Metaphysical Reflection, Nature, Spiritual Contemplation, Sports | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off on Slip Sliding Away

Beyond Bumper Stickers

Sometimes when I’m scanning through the news and views of Other People I Know, I sometimes shake my head and wonder, “Can that really be what you really think? How could you say something like that? How could you actually believe that? Why would you even want to think that way?” Most likely, they’ve had a similar reaction to at least three or eight of the things I’ve posted or been quoted as saying. There’s certainly been no shortage of Things to Argue About in the last, oh, I don’t know: six or twelve millennia?

Maybe there were some advantages to the relative obscurity of personal perspective back before the digital age. At least it wasn’t all the rage to hang all of our opinions across the door or in the front yard or on the bumper of our pickup truck. Maybe it took at least a cursory bit of effort to find out what others thought about the president, the local legislator, or the neighbors. Now, it seems that we wear our opinions in bold font and as if they were more important and more defining than how we treat other folks and whether or not we keep our word.

One of the dangers with this is that we short circuit the relationship-building phase. Before we get to know someone well enough to realize that we have a great deal in common, we’ve already sorted them into the cull pile because they don’t agree with us on gummie bears, gun control, space exploration or bike paths. No interest in getting to know them now. Unless our house catches fire or our grandchild disappears. Then, at least for a very needful while, we’re willing to look beyond those opinions in exchange for desperately needed help.

One of the dangers of opinion-based friendship—particularly from the perspective of someone who persistently tries to foster unity among believers—is that these sortings seem to ignore the very things that are supposed to keep us together. Things like faith, hope and love. Things like mercy, grace and compassion. Things like justice, truth and righteousness. True justice and righteousness, not facsimiles thereof.

Such things are not exclusive to any political party, demographic, ethnic, or religious group, or nationality. And they are more important to me than your bumper sticker. Unless, of course, your bumper sticker indicates that bumper stickers are more important.

H. Arnett
3/5/19

Posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Relationships, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off on Beyond Bumper Stickers

A Fine Treat, Out of Season

Passing by Braum’s on Summit Street, I thought about a fresh scoop of strawberry ice cream. I thought about that luscious smoothness and the crisp crunch of frozen berries. I thought about that creamy goodness, the taste and feel of frozen sweetness. I remembered turning the crank on our old White Mountain ice cream freezer and ripe strawberries on mounded rows in the garden. I thought about all that and just kept on driving, right past the Braum’s store on Summit Street.

Part of the reason was that it was nearly suppertime and another part was that I knew I didn’t particularly need another few hundred calories. But the biggest part of logic’s little outcome had little to do with self-control or dietary concerns: the temperature was in the upper teens.

Even something as good as ice cream seems the wrong choice at certain times. On a hot summer evening, cruising Summit and looking for friends? Well, then, by all means, ice cream! At seven a.m. with the wind chill nickering at the zero mark? Nah, thanks, I’ll pass.

Similarly, there’s a time when saying a certain thing can be soothing and healing. Said at another time, the same words can be hurtful, even inflammatory. I believe the proverb goes something like, “The right thing said at the right time is an apple of gold in a setting of silver.” Even when surrounded by beauty and value, good words have a special shine and special meaning.

There are times when we need to be especially thoughtful, wise and sensitive about the words we choose and how we use them. Knowing that we can find ourselves quite suddenly is such situations, it is a good practice to pray for wisdom on a daily basis.

And sometimes, even more often than that.

H. Arnett
3/4/19

Posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Relationships, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off on A Fine Treat, Out of Season

Hospital Attorney Retires after Serving for over Forty-three Years

Collage

When Otis Morrow first became City Attorney (Arkansas City) back in 1975, he could not have known that the position would launch him into also serving as the city’s hospital attorney for over forty-three years. That appointment, which continued after his thirty-year stint as the city attorney ended, saw him work with thirteen different chief administrators at the hospital.

While acknowledging that all of them wanted to bring high quality health care to Ark City, the venerable lawyer admits he would have preferred to see more stability in the CEO position. “I would have liked more continuity in the position,” he nods, “I would love to see Jeff Bowman [current CEO] stay in this job. Jeff is very talented, and I believe he is the right person for the job. I hope he retires here.”

Bowman was hired as South Central Kansas Medical Center chief executive last year to replace Virgil Watson. He notes that Morrow has served the hospital board and the community in laudatory fashion for those four-plus decades. “Otis Morrow is a highly respected attorney and a devout servant of this community. His wisdom and counsel over these forty-three years has been invaluable. He is not only admired and appreciated within this community and area, he is highly respected well beyond south central Kansas.”

Both Bowman and Morrow graduated from Arkansas City High School and both attended Cowley College before pursuing their bachelors’ degrees elsewhere. Bowman graduated from Baylor and then worked in Texas for thirty years before returning to take on the challenges at the helm of SCKMC. After Morrow finished his bachelors’ degree at Southwestern College and then finished law school at Washburn University. Immediately after that, he headed north. Seemingly, Morrow couldn’t get back quickly enough.

“I was in Chicago for about a year-and-a-half, working for a huge law firm there. It snowed in December and I didn’t see the ground again until March.” Those who know Morrow well may doubt that it was only the Windy City’s vicious winters that brought him back, although that would be reason enough for many of us. Upon his return, he worked in Newkirk at Albright Title and Trust and then came to work for the city.

“They told me they were looking for a young attorney like me,” Morrow confesses with a foreshadowing grin. “Then,” he chuckles, “I found out they couldn’t get anyone else to take the job.” In spite of the previous experience with cold, harsh winters, and the deep anchoring roots here, the attorney and his wife invested in residential property in Colorado.

“Some years ago, Terri and I bought a place out in Estes Park. I went ahead and took the Colorado bar exam, figuring that one day we’d be moving out there permanently. It never happened.” Here the lanky lawyer pauses, smiles and says softly, “We were just rooted too deeply here in Ark City.”

A man as tall as Morrow can use deep roots. Like the first king of ancient Israel, he stands head and shoulders above most other men, somewhere in the neighborhood of six-five or so. The years may have bent him a bit, but they haven’t kept him off the golf course.

Some of those familiar with those deep roots have seen Morrow use that long frame of his with notable power and prowess on the links. Gage Musson, who directs Cowley College’s Wellness Center and is recognized as an apt golfer himself, says that even though Morrow might be forty years older than him, “I wouldn’t want to play against him for money. No way. Dude is a lot stronger than he looks.”

While appreciative of Morrow’s strength and talent, Musson and other wielders of the irons might not know that the game is responsible for Morrow’s lifelong profession.

“When I was a kid, I played a lot of golf and I played with a lot of guys. Many of them were lawyers—some old and experienced, some just starting their careers. Listening to them, watching them interact with each other, I fell in love with the lifestyle.”

A love of his hometown, a love of his profession and a love of people has fueled Morrow through over forty years of service. His professionalism, dedication, and accomplishments have been recognized by the Kansas Bar Association and many others. Commemorations in his office document honors such as “Outstanding Alumni” (with wife, Terri) of Cowley College, declaration by the city of “Otis Morrow Appreciation Day,” service awards from the Salvation Army and others. All were well-deserved and well-received.

He’ll soon have another plaque to add to the collection when city mayor Jay Warren presents him with an award for his years of service to the hospital. South Central Kansas Medical Center board members and administrators will officially recognize Morrow’s service at their monthly board meeting on Thursday, February 28th.

Many people who’ve never met him and some who’ve never heard of him may very well owe their lives, at least in part, to Otis Morrow’s work in helping assure that Arkansas City has continued to have a local hospital over the past forty-three years. And counting.

Posted in Profiles, Relationships | Tagged , , , , , , | Comments Off on Hospital Attorney Retires after Serving for over Forty-three Years

Pausing Before the Woods on a Foggy Evening

Driving back into town on Chestnut,
I saw several deer grazing on brown grass,
just past the edge of the woods
in that flat span between trees and pavement.

The dense gray overcast made it hard to tell
exactly what time of day it was
but the clock and their feeding
made me think it must be somewhere close to dusk.

If I had just kept on driving by
they wouldn’t have batted an eye
but stopping the car
sure brought those heads up.

A couple stepped closer,
ears tilted forward, eyes focused,
a few millennia of instinct
only slightly dulled by decades of proximity.

All five moved in close together for a moment,
facing one way or another,
and then bounded into the thin edge
of cedars and oak and elm.

As the older ones paused
and looked back at the car,
the two yearlings butted and pawed
at each other, amidst the saplings.

I felt a twinge of guilt
for having interrupted their feeding
but would have to admit
I was grateful for our meeting.

I’m guessing that any perception of blessing
was probably pretty one-sided.
Most likely, they soon resumed their eating
and I still made it to my meeting on time.

I’ve seen worse interactions
between white-tailed deer
and passing motorists
who thought they were headed

somewhere else.

H. Arnett
3/1/19

Posted in Christian Devotions, Metaphysical Reflection, Nature, Poetic Contemplations, Poetry, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off on Pausing Before the Woods on a Foggy Evening

Walking through Life’s Places

I spent the first three years of my life on our dairy farm just north of Russellville, Kentucky. At least, I think it was north of town, don’t really remember. I spent the next ten years on our dairy farm in Todd County, between Pembroke, Elkton and Trenton. We didn’t own two farms; Dad sold the first to buy the other. He subsequently sold the second farm to a young couple and consigned my services to them for six months so I could finish out my eighth grade year at Trenton.

By that illusion of stability, I was able to complete all of my first eight years of school at the same place. Same school building, same gym, same cafeteria, same place to pile cinders from the coal-fired furnace. For the most part, I had the same classmates for all eight years.

Since then, I’ve lived in twenty-four different homes in at least ten different towns, cities, communities. Just for the record, there were no evictions or convictions involved in any of those relocations. Just different opportunities of economic or educational purpose and sometimes both at the same time.

Yesterday, I talked at some length with a man who grew up right here in Ark City. Graduated from high school here, and then two years at the junior college. Finished his bachelors at another college a dozen miles away but still in Cowley County. Earned his doctorate of jurisprudence in Topeka. Except for a year-and-a-half in Chicago, he has spent his entire career in this area. Since 1975, right here in Arkansas City, Kansas. Still here, still working.

I haven’t lived in the same place for more a few years in my entire life.

I don’t have a lot of regrets and yet I can’t help wondering about the differences that has to make—to know the same places and faces for all those years. To have relationships that have held for that long. For children and grandchildren to grow up with that same sort of familiar comfort, to know and be known.

But then, I also realize that sometimes children choose something else, even when their roots in a place run back for multiple generations. We do not make their choices nor do they always pattern them after the ones we have made. We all sort through the options, trust in faith and take our chances.

And, having seen samples of both, I’ve come to know that where we live doesn’t matter nearly as much as how we live. Ultimately we’re all just passing through. Those who walk in love will always find good neighbors and make good friends.

H. Arnett
2/27/19

Posted in Aging, Christian Devotions, Family, Relationships, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Walking through Life’s Places

In the Midst of Miracles and Wonders

In the midst of miracles and wonders,
great truths and small ponderings,
Jesus asked at least once
whether the gathered throngs
tagged along for heaven’s truest dishes
or only for the loaves and fishes.

At the Community Church
on a recent Lord’s Day morning,
two sets of siblings,
too young to give thought
to others’ suspicions,
waited impatiently for the snacks
that are usually set out
at the back of the sanctuary
and grabbed the pouches of juice
while the box was still being emptied.

They wandered around the front
until Pam signaled them over
beside her at the lectern,
and they stood there together
at the top of the sanctum step
for the opening song.

I studied for a moment
the ten-year-old,
hair unwashed and uncombed,
nylon jacket sleeves too long for his arms,
dirt and leaves caked to the sides of his shoes,
nervous smile as he looked out
at fifty strangers standing and singing
The Joy of the Lord.

I thought about my own discomfort
and then about:
the children who came to Christ,
publicans and sinners,
cups of cold water,
“the least of these”

and how pleased heaven must be
when the children of the poor
are welcomed to help themselves
to the snacks at the back of the church
and to the Feast of Fellowship
shared at the front.

H. Arnett
2/25/19

Posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Poetic Contemplations, Poetry, Relationships, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , | Comments Off on In the Midst of Miracles and Wonders

Beauty and Blessing from the Gutter

This is our fourth winter living in Ark City just a few miles north of the Oklahoma state line. Yesterday was the first day we’ve had a really good, covering snow. After a few more days of gray and cold, the sun eased out late in the afternoon.

As I drove the few miles home, I lamented to myself having had to work too late to have a chance to get out and get some good snow pictures: woods, creeks, ponds, lakes, fields, hills or what have you. Too little daylight left.

As I pulled into the driveway, I saw a sheath of snow hanging from the hood of Randa’s truck. It had eased forward in the afternoon and curled down past the bumper. I quickly dug my digital 35mm SLR camera out of my backpack. Afraid the vibration of a closing door might be enough to break the sheath, I eased out and walked over to the front of the truck.

Several minutes later, I headed toward the house. I happened to look up and notice a few small icicles hanging from the gutter that edges the eave over the porch. Late sun patterned brilliant lines through the frozen shapes. When I stepped up onto the porch and looked back, I could see that the icicles that had formed along the bottom of the gutter were not even touching the bottom of the gutter. They were hanging from the upper edge but still had the right angle shape formed from the lower corner.

While the sunset faded into dusk, I took a few dozen pictures from different angles, fascinated by the way the light and background shapes played into the reflections and refractions.

We are often so mesmerized by distant spectacles that we fail to grasp the glory of what waits at our own door. God’s greatest works sometimes take the smallest form.

H. Arnett
2/21/19

Posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Metaphysical Reflection, Nature, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off on Beauty and Blessing from the Gutter