Author Archives: Doc Arnett

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About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Ark City, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-nine years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-eight grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.

Mists Across the Valley

Sad news on a rainy day gives way to a brief interlude of beauty in mid-afternoon. Rising mists after a storm lead to the forming reminder of God’s grace and the intercession of the Spirit with “groanings too deep for words.” Continue reading

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Two Soldiers, Two Chains, and One Angel

A homespun version of Peter’s escape from prison brings up lessons about prayer, faith, and God’s deliverance.

With a bit of humor thrown in… Continue reading

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Messy Days

The freeze and thaw cycles can sure turn a barnyard into a messy, mucky place! Sometmes, we don’t have a choice about the messes we have to deal with. But… we don’t have to carry the stink with us! Continue reading

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To Have and Have Not

To have walked in thunder and welcomed rain…
to have felt the fear and still have loved… Continue reading

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Sugar Bowl-Part Une

They’ll be playing highlights from last night’s Sugar Bowl game for years to come. My favorite was seeing Ole Miss’s quarterback turn into Superman. Continue reading

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Moon over the Moors

Seams of fog drifting in the low glow of dusk bring a surreal change, making northeast Kansas seem like Scotland. Continue reading

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Empty Plates & Empty Chairs

For most, holidays bring a mix of joy and tears. Embrace both, give thanks for the good, seek healing for each loss, do not let the Past rob you of Today’s joy. Continue reading

Posted in Aging, Christian Devotions, Death & Dying, Family, food, Poetic Contemplations, Poetry, Relationships, Resurrection/Return, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Through the Eyes of a Little Boy

I can take my Old Man Me, look at my life—both past and present—and twist myself up with guilt, regret, disappointment, and disillusionment. Or… I can remember that little kid and ease down to my knees, bow my head, and give genuine thanks for being blessed beyond imagination. Continue reading

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Cold Days and the Way of Faith

These single digit temps cleaning up the horse pen remind me of bitter cold mornings in an unheated milk barn sixty-five years ago… and of how faith sustains us through all things. Continue reading

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The Mystery of Fog

Even as a young kid, I loved foggy mornings… Continue reading

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