Category: Gratitude

Blessing or Bummer?

/ colleen arnold / 2 Comments

Do you know people who are always happy? People who seem to flow along unaffected by the trials that must surely be swirling around them? I think I know how they do it. Instead of going through the day counting all the bummers, they choose to see the blessings instead. Recently I had an experience that reminded me  its possible to be content even when your circumstances encourage otherwise.

Years ago, we planted a small copse of pine trees in the U-shaped center of our driveway. We nursed and mulched those baby trees as they grew up right alongside our daughters. Over the years they hosted birds’ nests, ant farms, totem pole faces, scavenger hunts, and came to be called the “tree garden.”

Bummer: I was shocked one morning this spring when I came out the front door to discover that a destructive night wind  felled one of the larger pines. The fragrant giant stretched across my driveway, well into the neighbor’s yard, while shards of the broken stump reached up like fingers from the mulch. The sight was heartbreaking.
Blessing: Despite the length and width of that huge tree, it didn’t hit my car or my house. It landed within a foot of my deck and inches from my car, safely between the two, and nowhere near the front porch of the neighbor’s house toward which it was pointed. Continue reading →

My Fickle Faith

/ colleen arnold / 4 Comments

Last week’s wind storms wreaked havoc at my house. Lots of damage, loss of power, and on top of that, a little fender-bender car accident. Today I pick up the pieces, literally. There are downed twigs and large branches all over my yard, not to mention the two fallen ninety-foot-tall pine trees stretched across my driveway.

And even though last week I said, “Thank you, God, that those trees did not hit my house or my car!” today I’m thinking: How do I even start to clean up this mess? Continue reading →

The Old Table; Treasure or Trash

/ colleen arnold / 4 Comments

I am sitting at the ancient dining room table writing. As happens far too often, my concentration wanes and I look around the room. My gaze lands on the surface of the table and I notice the many scratches and stains that now live there. It has become worn and scarred from its years of use, not just as a place for meals, but as the central focus in my house.

I study the shabby veneer from my seated vantage point and then stand to see the damage more closely. My hands rub the once shiny surface as if I was reading Braille. I find one daughter’s name  scratched into the spot where she so often sat. I feel pits where impatient toddlers once banged their utensils. I see ink stains where frustrated hands accidently pressed straight through their homework papers.  I touch the burn marks made by meals served hurriedly to quiet hungry voices. Continue reading →

The Honor of the Christmas Card in a Brand New Tradition

/ colleen arnold / 2 Comments

Christmas cards used to be a big part of our family tradition. They were always one of a kind, designed by Neil and I. For the very first one, we cut our faces out of a family photograph and pasted them on to hand drawn snowmen. We had such fun that we kept it up year after year.

One of my favorites was the five of us standing next to a row of life sized nutcrackers. Another was a regular appearing family photo into which an extra Colleen and Jackie were added. Everyone thought there were two sets of twins. One year we glued our faces into the windows of a black and white sketched camper that was decorated with festive red and green Christmas lights. Another favorite was our family pasted on to the back of the Grinch’s sleigh, with the Grinch himself copied into the driver’s seat. And I can’t forget the year that featured our faces hidden in a sea of toys in “Where’s Waldo?” fashion.
Continue reading →

There is No Perfect, But There Can Still be Joy

/ colleen arnold / 2 Comments

You know those incredible moments that crystalize into perfect memories you treasure forever? The ones that make you wish time could stand still and life would never change?

It was a New Year’s Eve long ago. My newborn baby, only three days old, slept peacefully in my arms. My plump, comfy chair was pulled against the French doors leading out to the deck. I could feel the cold draft and my fluffy blanket was wrapped snuggly around us. My toddler sat on the floor cuddling the dog, while her older sister hummed Christmas carols beside us.

Neil’s annual fireworks display was toned down that year, because I didn’t want to take the baby outside. Instead of the street, the fireworks were lined in a row of about twenty on the deck railing. As he hopped gleefully down the row, lighting each one as he went, he dipped and weaved to avoid the sparks and ashes. Then he retraced his steps, knocking the spent ones off the deck, lining up a new row and repeating the whole process. “Pop, pop, pop,” two-year-old Jackie exclaimed cheerfully over and over again, as we watched through the glass doors. Gina oohed and awed with each new display, and my sweet babe slept through it all. Continue reading →