On Being a Know-It-All

September 5, 2018 / colleen arnold / 2 Comments

I am such a know-it-all; we all are sometimes. And of course, we don’t know everything….

Neil and I were in Tuscany. The scenery was magnificent: narrow medieval streets, beautiful vistas visible from walled cities, history so alive I could feel the ancients walking the cobbled roads with us. Despite all this, the most remarkable part of the trip was my discovery of arugula.

We were seated at an outdoor café in the tiny village of Cortona (home to Betty Mayes and “Under the Tuscan Sun”). Before the waiter even took our order, he brought bread and salads. The bread was warm and fragrant, but the salad got all my attention. Simple sliced pears arranged on a bed of green leaves, and drizzled with good Italian olive oil, it was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. But it wasn’t the perfect pears or the fine olive oil that impressed me, it was those peppery leaves. “Neil, taste this salad! The greens are amazing!”

He raised his eyebrows with a questioning look. “You mean the arugula?” Continue reading →

The Lifelong Challenge: To Love, Not Control

August 22, 2018 / colleen arnold / 8 Comments

It was a hot, hazy August day in Virginia Beach, and one that taught me a lesson about my impossible desire to be in control.

Neil, Gina and I were on a mini-vacation before she started kindergarten. We had a cozy base camp on the beach with chairs and umbrellas, a well-stocked cooler and a giant pail of sand toys. We even invited a babysitter along, so Neil and I could truly relax.

At one point, I realized Gina and the sitter weren’t anywhere in sight. “Neil, do you see Lisa and Gina?” He scoured the shoreline but couldn’t see them either. “They probably just went on a walk to look for shells. They’ll be right back,” he said calmly as he popped a beer can and settled back into his beach chair.

After about 15 minutes they still hadn’t reappeared, and I got worried. “I’m going to look for them,” I told Neil, and headed off in the direction I last saw them. Along the way I saw plenty of 5-year-olds picking up shells and building castles with imaginative abandon, but no Gina. I saw plenty of teenagers splashing tentatively on the shore, discretely checking around to see who was watching them. No Lisa. Continue reading →

Learning to Do Nothing: Finding God in The Stillness

August 8, 2018 / colleen arnold / 10 Comments

Neil’s favorite place was our side patio. He sat there for hours musing about life and music and books and God. Back then I thought it was a terrible waste of time – I equated being still with being lazy. There were so many practical things that had to be done! There was always more yardwork, more housework, more children’s activities. It seemed downright irresponsible to just sit outside frittering away time watching clouds and bugs. Oh, how my mind has changed!

One of the unexpected blessings of my empty nest is that I have learned how to do nothing. It seems like a less than lofty goal in today’s world, but for an overachiever like me, it is an amazing accomplishment. While the world tells me that I need to be productive and active, my personal peace needs time to download. In the silence I can hear my thoughts and listen for the tiny whisper of God’s voice. I cringe at the thought of all the times I talked mindlessly to Neil while he was sitting quietly on the patio. I wish I had one more minute with him to let him know I understand now.
Continue reading →

Lord, I Don’t Want To Worry, But…

July 25, 2018 / colleen arnold / Leave a comment

Recently a strange and unexpected thing happened in the cemetery. It reminded me once again that worry does not do a bit of good!

I believe that Neil’s ashes belong in holy ground, not on a shelf or scattered, but it took a while for me to decide where that holy spot would be. Only recently, I chose a local cemetery plot, and our priest blessed it and stood with me as Neil was buried. Until I select a permanent tombstone, the grave is adorned with only a simple marker. Even so, it’s a lovely spot: peacefully quiet, shaded by a dogwood tree, and close to other people we knew. I’ve developed a habit of strolling through the cemetery after church, and it has become a comforting ritual.

On one such evening, I saw from a distance bare earth where I estimated Neil’s grave should be. Hoping it was just the summer sun playing tricks on my eyes, I hurried ahead. Nope, there was the marker, right in the middle of bare, dry earth where last week had been green grass. Continue reading →

Trust the Pilot, and Trust God

July 11, 2018 / colleen arnold / Leave a comment

I recently had to remind myself of this post from 2016. Maybe you need to hear it again, too. Trust is a funny thing…..

Have you ever been in a hot air balloon? A propane fire heats the air inside the balloon, which allows it to float upward; as the air cools, the balloon descends. The pilot can’t really steer, but he goes up and down until he finds a wind current that carries him in the direction he wants to go. The balloon can’t travel any faster than the wind, and if there’s no wind the balloon just sits there in the sky. Fascinating, right?

Neil and I thought so too, so we celebrated our first wedding anniversary with a hot air balloon ride. It was a glorious summer morning, with a clear sky, no humidity, and comfortably cool temperature. Neil and I bravely climbed over the chest-height sides into the wicker passenger basket. It seemed sturdy enough, but there was no roof or side rails – nothing much to protect us from the fire above and the ground below.

As the fire lit up and the balloon gently started to rise, my brain automatically evaluated all the things that could go wrong. Hmm…a gust of wind could tip the basket and dump us free falling through the air like sky divers without a parachute. Or the wind could change direction and whisk us off course like the poor Wizard of Oz. Or the fire could die and send the whole balloon crashing to the ground. I am not afraid of heights, but as we floated above the buildings and trees, the openness of the basket was disconcerting. Shouldn’t this at least be enclosed, I wondered? Continue reading →