The Farrier’s Passing

Posted on November 11, 2025 by Doc Arnett 
On the evening of the day that Lewis Johnson passed away,
it was nearly dark when we made our way back home
from working on our daughter’s barn over in Missouri.

In the hollow spaces formed below the trees,
Randa and I tended to the needs of the horses,
dumping feed into buckets and mucking the paddock.

We thought of Lewis and the last time he came to trim,
moving slow, breathing hard, and taking time to rest
after each hoof had been clipped and rasped.

Cancer and chemo had stripped away muscle,
all the hair on his head,
and his great, black, cowboy mustache.

That was six months ago on a chilly April day
in northeastern Kansas and I remember thinking, 
“This might be the last time he’s able to come and do this.”

It was.

We felt the sadness of those shadows 
beneath the sixty-year-old cottonwood
that spans out over the round pen,

That same great tree he had stood beneath,
grateful for shade on blistering days,
and we marveled at the way he handled the horses:

Thick arms, hard shoulders, and strong hands
spanning decades of knowing and doing,
speaking gently to the geldings and moving smoothly.

One of us held each horse 
while he sliced off frayed layers of the frog,
nipped away the fractured edges of the hoof.

Then, holding the foot between his thighs—
living hide held against the tanned leather of his farrier’s chaps—
planed the bottom smooth and flat.

Finally, bracing the foot against the steel stand,
his hands swinging in the arc of a smile,
he smoothed the outside edge with a coarse file.


And after he’d finished each horse, 
he’d softly rub its neck and scratch its withers,
Pat him a few times and say, “You’re a good boy.”

Then, he’d turn to whoever was holding the rope,
grin and say, “You gotta take time to love on ‘em 
and thank ‘em.”

With glistening eyes, I leaned against the cold metal rails,
looked up after a moment and saw a nearly full moon 
glowing like the touch of God above the eastern ridge,

Framed by the silhouetted shape of autumn leaves
hanging in the hollow space of heavy limbs
in the slight chill of a November night,

Needing every bit of light that a moon could manage.
Posted in Death & Dying, Farming, Poetic Contemplations, Poetry, Relationships, Spiritual Contemplation, Work | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on The Farrier’s Passing

A Single Leaf

Posted on November 3, 2025 by Doc Arnett

In the afternoon following a hard frost,
nearly an inch of slow rain,
and a hurricane two thousand miles away,
I pause by a single scarlet leaf
as large as a man’s hand
that has landed by a small puddle on the concrete patio.

Its color is brilliant even in the muted tones
below an overcast sky,
and the puddle is pocked by slow drizzle
and a scattering of tiny twigs and locust leaves.

In the middle of the moment
of such glowing attention to such a trivial thing,
I wonder if it is somehow indecent of me
to ponder and marvel at such simple beauty
in the midst of such destruction and heartache
that the same Nature brings
in some other place…

Whether resolution or practiced self-delusion,
I realize that even if I bathe my soul in tears
and cloak myself in years of sorrow and mourning,
it would not lessen in the least
the suffering of these other ones.

I remember, too,
that there are other forms of caring
and that the simplest act of giving
gives greater power to faith
than all of life’s lamenting.

I will praise the God who gives
and takes away
and will find goodness in the day that He has made:

I will cherish the flower and the fallen leaf,
offer something other than a cup of cold water to those in grief,
and will consider that a single moment of contradiction
neither diminishes nor increases
the terms of the leases we are given
in these marvelous wonders of Creation called “flesh,”
destined for death and glory
when a renewed Story will be written on new tablets
when all of sorrow is ended.

Posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Nature, Poetic Contemplations, Poetry, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on A Single Leaf

Blessed Beyond Belief

Posted on October 23, 2025 by Doc Arnett

Please forgive me for what might initially seem a little less than dignified and refined. Not that you’ve come to expect dignity and refinement from me but this one starts out with something quite a bit lower than the angels, I reckon.

Our big ole Craftsman style farmhouse in northeastern Kansas has three bathrooms: one on the main level and two for the upstairs sleeping quarters which include two or three guest rooms. During the day, we mostly use the little half-bath on the main floor. Decidedly more convenient than having to use the stairs.

So, needing to expel my properly processed breakfast coffee, I stepped into the little Palace of Necessity.

I noticed the porcelain receptacle had that special blue cleaning fluid in the bowl. So, I walked back into the kitchen and asked Randa, “Do you want me to use the upstairs bathroom so that can soak longer?”

To my absolute astonishment, even knowing my age and disposition, she replied, “Yes, please. That hasn’t had time to really work yet.”

So, I cheerfully trudged up the seventeen steps and turned to my right. As I walked into the bathroom, I chuckled to myself. “When I was growing up, we didn’t even have a bathroom in the house! Now… I can choose one of three!”

To be fair, we did get indoor plumbing when Dad had the old house torn down and a new one built in its place on the farm in Todd County, Kentucky back in 1961. We basically went from the 19th Century to the 20th in just a few months. Just in time to host the reception for my oldest sister Freeda’s wedding.

I didn’t really think much about what my life might be like when I reached the age of my grandparents. I mostly just thought about baseball, chores, playing baseball and basketball, and reading books. But I can confidently assure you that I never even imagined living in a house like this and having three indoor bathrooms!

It is so easy to perch ourselves in the ratty old outhouse of negative thinking, isn’t it? Start focusing on disappointment, troubles and trials, and disillusionment. Replaying old negative memories and fantasizing about future troubles. Granted, I have the advantage of having grown up with less than I have now. Having had a career that far exceeded any expectations that I had. I reckon that makes it a bit easier to appreciate the little things.

But, as I’ve come to grudgingly admit, it’s really more about the simple effort of appreciation than it is about incidental realization. God and a bunch of other folks have been far better to me than I have deserved.

And, honestly… I’m okay with that. Especially since I can still make it up and down the stairs.

Life is good.

Posted in Aging, Christian Devotions, Humor, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Blessed Beyond Belief

Sixth Annual Cider & Fireside Chatauqua

Posted on October 21, 2025 by Doc Arnett 
In the glow of low fire
fueled by oak and hickory,
four men sit between flame and shadow
less than a mile north of the Arkansas River,
sipping bourbon and beer
and sharing the nearness of autumn night.

They speak in greater depth than ordinary conversation,
having chosen discussion of things that matter—
in this world and in the one to come.

“What things are worth dying for?”
“What guides your life?”
“What have you learned since last we met?”
“What are our ‘God-given rights?’”

And a dozen other questions and topics
that emerge in an extended conversation
both focused and meandering about the threads
of meaning and being beneath the Milky Way.

A few thin clouds,
high and white,
drift above the cedars and oaks,
hickory and ash.

At times,
one or two stand
near the steel circle
that bounds the flames and coals,
feeling the warm glow,
watching the curling wafts of red and orange
that peel away the bark
and feed on the heartwood
grown and formed by decades of slow growth
and constantly adapting to the storms and seasons
that have formed them.

Their shadows stretch
into the woods behind them,
mingling into darker shapes.

They talk late into the night,
sometimes somber in the nearness of loss and pain,
sometimes laughing loudly at improvised humor,
but always receiving more than they give.

They are here not for proving themselves right
and others wrong,
but for the gain of knowing and being known,
to take measure of their own thoughts
against thoughtful response.

Iron sharpening iron
in the forge of a deeper fire
than what burns before them,
searching for some seam of light
that cuts briefly through the dark glass
and keeping the nearness of the flaming Spirit
between themselves and the howling of the world.


H. Arnett
10/21/2025
Posted in Aging, Christian Devotions, Family, Metaphysical Reflection, Nature, Poetic Contemplations, Poetry, Relationships, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Sixth Annual Cider & Fireside Chatauqua

Thoughts from Above the Porch

Posted on October 9, 2025 by Doc Arnett 
Standing two hours before dawn 
on the flat roof over the back porch,
on something that could be a balcony
if my wife’s husband could be convinced
to attach a railing of some kind
that would keep kids from inadvertently
experimenting with gravity,
somehow thinking 
that falling really fast is actually “flying.”

I watch in silent wonder
at a harvest moon two nights past full
backlighting drifting clouds
in their thin-veiled shrouds
as they drift toward the south
and just slightly east.

It is no wonder to me
that those who do not know its Maker
worship the moon,

No wonder that those
who do not know The One
who set its limits
might kneel beside the ocean
or stand on mountain bluffs above the surf
and worship the things made rather than The Maker.

I take them as no less heathen or idolatrous
than those who worship money, power, fame, or sex.
It seems actually a bit less of a stretch
to worship what so clearly seems 
more powerful,
more grand,
more great
than those things that so clearly beget
such corruption, 
such neglect of friend and family,
such saturation of self and ego,
such abandonment of principle.

Watching the mesmerizing changes
of shape and shadow,
light and color in a shifting sky,
I remember that I, too,
am pulled to things that do not bring good
and like the ancient apostle
am often drawn to do other than what I should.

And so, today,
I will confess to Him Who Made Me
that the only good I find in me
is what He has placed
and I will try to live a quiet and peaceful life,
and leave to others the strife of judging
lest I be judged.
Posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Metaphysical Reflection, Nature, Poetic Contemplations, Poetry, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Thoughts from Above the Porch

Morning Moon

Posted on October 8, 2025 by Doc Arnett 


On the first chill morning of October, 
The horses seem to walk a bit slower
Going from pen to pasture,

Their hard-hooved steps
Muted slightly by a thin cushion 
Of browned cottonwood leaves
Soaked by a slow inch of rain that came
In two nights and one day 
And that may bring a slight freshening of green
To what lean grass remains in the pasture. 

We slip off the halters
And the geldings pause beneath the catalpa,
Sniffing and sampling the thick clumps of fescue.

They move on toward the north end,
Knowing there might be a bit of orchard grass
Still scattered about beneath a pale white moon
Slipping toward the horizon
Underneath the bright blue sky
Of a whole world moving through its seasons.

Back at the barn with a bag of fresh feed
Riding on one shoulder,
I pause beneath the cottonwood, 

See the full, fading moon framed above the barn, 
Caught for a moment 
Between the lower branches
And the steel frame of the high gate 
And marvel at its soft beauty,
Its gentle light in these autumn nights, 
And how good rest feels
Following the long days of harvest.

Posted in Farming, Nature, Poetic Contemplations, Poetry, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Morning Moon

High Goals & Lumps of Coal

Posted on October 6, 2025 by Doc Arnett

I remember hearing and reading a few decades ago, “Set your goals high. Then, even if you fail to reach them, you will still have accomplished much.”

I suppose it sounded good to some folks… but I wasn’t one of them. “Why would you set goals so high that you knew you’d never reach them?” I wondered. It seemed to me more like self-deception than self-improvement. Maybe it was just that contrary streak that ran through me but I never could buy in to that approach. It was more effective to me to set high but attainable goals and do my darndest to reach them. That way, instead of consoling myself that I’d accomplished much trying to reach for the stars, I could endure the rock-solid, all-the-way-through-my-soul sort of disappointment that comes from knowing I was fully capable and just didn’t do it!

The truth is, I haven’t really done an awful lot of setting long-term goals for myself. Lots and lots and lots of daily to-do lists but most of my bigger projects have mostly been a matter of just deciding to go after something without a highly detailed, lock-step plan. Even though I’ve done a few things that a certain little tow-headed Todd County kid never thought he’d ever do, it’s mostly been a matter of following something that had sprouted in my heart. Not so much a finely tuned pursuit of carefully selected ambitions as just heading where it seemed God was leading.

I’d wanted to be a college professor ever since a month into my Introduction to Education course with Vernon Shown at Murray State University in 1975. But it wasn’t until I had a bunch of knucklehead sophomores at Calloway County High School in 1984 that I knew the time had come for me to make the change. Being a college prof meant earning a PhD so when Ohio State University offered me a fellowship, I went to OSU. Earning that degree was just about the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life but it wasn’t ambition nearly as much as it was simply getting my union card so I could teach college.

Once again, I wasn’t shooting for the stars, just following what unfolded as the course of my life. There is, though, one particular ambition that is mighty lofty: trying to be a true Christian, a genuine disciple of the Carpenter.

I’ve drawn a few splinters, made a mess of things more than once, and possibly have served more as an object lesson in grace than as a role model of righteousness. But… that is still the goal.

While reading in Ephesians this morning, I was struck—yet again—with Paul’s admonition: “… put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.” Man, talk about shooting for the stars! Talk about impossible goals! Talk about going way beyond!!!

“Created to be like God.”

Sounds pretty much impossible, doesn’t it? Like something we could never accomplish? And yet… there it is. In bold, plain, simple language. “Righteous and holiness.” Yep, exactly that. Still that. Always been the goal, always will be if we are sincere about following Jesus. Much easier to just go to church, pay lip service, and continue living like the creatures of the world we were before our supposed conversion.

I know that I’ve still got quite a ways to go. I know that I’ll come up shorter than a turtle trying to climb a fence post—but I’m not giving up. It’s the reason I was made a new self sixty years ago.

And I know that God’s still working on this old lump of coal… and He’s given me a Spirit of power, not one of fear. You know, that old, “through Him I can do all things” thing.

Posted in Christian Devotions, Higher Education, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on High Goals & Lumps of Coal

Sand and Sandals

Posted on October 2, 2025 by Doc Arnett

It was only a gentle dozen years ago that I decided to accept my daughter Susan’s invitation to do a mud run with her in central Kentucky. My son Dan and his wife Christie joined us. I was nervous as a squirrel with anxiety disorder before the race but ended up having a great time.

I also learned a bit about footwear choices.

Vicariously, I learned from Dan that running three-point-two miles without socks is a terrible idea. Wet feet plus hills plus distance equals lots of blisters. Experientially, I learned that trail sandals weren’t the way to go, either.

Getting the occasional pebble on a dirt trail was an acceptable consequence for the comfort of Keen. Going through the pond was a different matter.

With every step, as I begin to lift my foot, the tiny bit of separation between sole of foot and insole of shoe created a small but powerful vacuum that sucked in sand, grit, gravel, and the occasional tiny stone or piece of stick. By the time I sloshed my way up the opposite bank, it felt like my sandals were packed with wet BB’s. Unpolished BB’s, mind you.

I’ve done multiple mudruns with nearly all of my kids, three daughters-in-law, a nephew, two of my siblings and several friends. Whether running alone or with family, all of my races since that first one have been run with tightly laced athletic shoes.

I still get some unwelcome stowaways but nothing like the crowds the sandals brought onboard. I still like wearing sandals in other situations, though. Especially while riding around on my little tractor or my fast orange Zero Turn mower. I’ve worn them so much this summer that I actually have sandal suntans on both feet. I like the coolness of fresh air circulating around my pedapods and the convenience of no socks. For some situations, at least.

They don’t work so well for tromping around in the horse lot. Too much sand and grit in the round pen, too many small stones and sticks and other drawbacks in the paddock. I avoid the muck pocks and take time to shake out my sandals when I’m done with the chores. But mostly, when it’s time for actual working on surfaces that tend to overly share with my footwear, I wear hiking boots subverted to work boot applications.

There are times in life when we inadvertently encounter different terrain than what we’d expected. Even when wearing the perfect footwear for the long hikes, we may still encounter the every now and then of something caught in a shoe.

Sit on the nearest boulder, shake out the boot, wipe off the chance scruff from the bottom of your foot and reload. And when you know that your path is going to include some rough stuff, some gritty circumstances, some twerps and twigs and such, maybe consider wearing something more apt than sandals. There’s even a time and place for flip flops. Hiking the Grand Canyon ain’t it.

We can’t avoid every unpleasant situation in life. But there are plenty of times when we can just walk around the muck instead of charging right through it. Consider the terrain, avoid the pain.

Posted in Christian Devotions, Metaphysical Reflection, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Sand and Sandals

Something to Think About

Posted on September 30, 2025 by Doc Arnett 
Something like light, something like love,
Something like warmth hearthed from above.

Something like softness, something just right,
Something like peace in the fading light.

Something like rest, something like sleep,
Something like slumber in the evening’s keep.

Something like the sound of soft, flowing streams,
Something like the smiles of gentle dreams.

Something like comfort, something like touch,
Something like the nearness of just close enough.

Something like strength, something like hope,
Something like knowing more than is shown.

Something like laughter, shiny and bright,
Something stronger than the darkest night.

Something fond and familiar like a lover’s face,
Something deeply reassuring like a true embrace.

Something worn yet strong like work-toughened hands,
Something ancient and fresh like rain-nourished land.

Something pure and refreshing like a rock-bedded spring,
Something warm and caressing like  a familiar waltz swing.

Whatever things are noble and true, pure and right,
Think on things lovely and excellent, both day and night.*

*Phillipians 4:8
Posted in Christian Devotions, Metaphysical Reflection, Poetic Contemplations, Poetry, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Something to Think About

Harvest Rain

Posted on September 24, 2025 by Doc Arnett

With apologies to those who are concerned with harvesting huge fields of corn rather than with tending tiny pastures for horses, I confess that I loved the gentle rains that came to our little corner of Kansas in the past twenty-four hours. Hardly ever more than a sprinkle, often like a mist, and occasionally a bona fide shower, it came slow and gentle. It came so gradually that it barely even ran off of the patio and sidewalk.

No gushing over the retaining timbers at the base of the round pen sand, no spilling down the ditches, no sweeping layers of dirt and muck out from the paddock. Just a sort of seeping from the clouds, quickly soaked up in the cracked seams of dry earth that formed in the late heat of summer. Nearly every drop, it seemed, drawn into the dirt to nourish the stems and stalks, the blades and leaves.

Sometimes, that’s how I read Scripture—trying to absorb every nuance of meaning, every nourishing bit of truth. Hoping to let nothing pass by without benefit: instruction, conviction, reassurance, edification, encouragement. Some sort of cultivation of greater understanding, some gain of insight, some stronger sense of faith, hope, or love.

Of course, it would be well beyond exaggeration to claim that’s how I actually read. It seems to me that would be rather impossible. I do mull over a particular verse or even a phrase within a verse from time to time. Sometimes building an entire sermon on what seemed like some random fragment until it floated up off the page and engaged my thinking for several days—or even years.

But what I find is that whether my contemplation lasts for five seconds, five minutes, five hours… or even longer, it’s always worth the time. The nourishing growth lasts longer than the showers and the land is blessed beyond the day.

Posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Farming, Gardening, Metaphysical Reflection, Nature, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Harvest Rain