Compassion Awakened by Tornadoes

Mitch Arnold • May 14, 2024

Midwesterners are aware of the devastating potential of tornadoes, but we don’t live our lives with one eye on the sky. In fact, we don’t worry too much at all about them, even when the weather is favorable for their appearance. When they happen, however, they remind us of our vulnerability. My recent experience also reminded me of the importance of compassion.


The forecast three Fridays ago told us that tornadoes could emerge from the strong storms forecast to begin in my area in the mid- to late-afternoon. That’s not uncommon around here for this time of year, so I made a mental note of the threat and went on with my day. I was working from my home office when the first alert appeared on my phone at about 3 pm. I could see clouds to the south and west, but nothing appeared ominous. Then, the siren sounded.


We hear sirens two or three times every year. Usually, that means that a tornado warning has been issued for the county, but it doesn’t always mean that there is a storm in our part of the county. Normally, I explain that to my wife, while she argues with me to hide in the basement. Lynda was at work 30 miles away, so I didn’t have that argument. Instead, I turned on the television and saw that the storm could possibly be headed in my direction, though there hadn’t been a visual confirmation of a tornado. Ironically, the sirens then stopped, so I went out on my patio to get a closer look at the clouds. The clouds didn’t look any worse than they had a few minutes earlier. In fact, I saw golfers on the tee box, continuing their rounds.


When the sirens sounded a second time, just a few minutes later, I decided to pay closer attention to the television. I was steps away from the safe room in my basement, and my cell phone was in my pocket, in case I needed to scurry away to safety. Instead, I saw live footage of a massive tornado on the ground about five miles to the northwest and heading away from me. Since my house and I were safe, at least for the moment, my thoughts drifted to friends and family in the path of the storm.


It's amazing how quickly the human spirit can leave self-absorption and find compassion, when a threat is removed. Minutes earlier, I was preoccupied with thoughts of what I would do if my home was severely damaged or destroyed. Now, I was thinking of others facing that same threat. That realization made me think of how many of us, myself included, live that way every day. We get so consumed with everything that’s going in our lives that we often forget to consider others. That’s not an indictment of character; it’s simply the human condition.


The challenge is to be compassionate while still attending to our needs, and it’s a challenge I face almost every time I board a flight. Moving around in the tight quarters of an airplane is difficult for me, as is getting in and out of those seats. Plus, going down the taxiway takes me longer, so I pre-board whenever possible. Typically, there are three to as many as ten of us doing the same thing – all of us hoping for an uneventful boarding and convenient seatings. As I wait with this group, I survey the competition, trying to determine who needs the front row seats more than I do. When I board, I try to leave the best seats for those who appear to need them the most. That’s obviously an inexact science, and I’ve missed before, but I try to balance compassion with my own needs.



I need to get better doing the same thing away from the airport, and my experience with the tornado reminded me of that. Apparently, a lot of people had a similar awakening, as volunteers almost overwhelmed the coordinators responding to the storm. Driven by compassion awakened by the tornadoes, strangers from all over showed up for the unpleasant work of cleaning up from a storm, and they continued for weeks afterward. While it’s affirming that compassion is so abundant within us, let’s not wait for a tornado to share it.

Cherish Your Memories and Applaud the Success of Others

By Mitch Arnold • September 27, 2026
Recently, one of my friends completed a hike of the Appalachian Trail, 2198 miles of mountain paths from Georgia to Maine. He hiked almost continuously from March 31 to September 17, wearing the shoes of his son who passed away unexpectedly late last year. Not only is my friend an intensely driven and passionate individual, he is also a talented photographer who has crafted a career around his art. He used that talent to document his journey, capturing views that most eyes will never see and small wonders that most would miss. As I followed his adventures online, I felt wonder and awe, as well as gratitude that I could witness something that I will never see in person. Life is like that. Few of us will ever do everything we want to do, and we’ll watch from the sidelines as others enjoy something that we can only dream of. The trick is to do that without jealousy and envy, which are the thieves of gratitude and peace, and it’s something that I occasionally struggle with. Sometimes it seems that almost everywhere I look I am reminded of things beyond my reach. From my social media feeds to the walls in my house, reminders of dreams cut short threaten to haunt me, if I let them. With the help of some enthusiastic friends and the patience of an accommodating wife, I enjoyed several good years of pursuing my passion for hunting. Before my disability took that away from me, I was blessed to hunt in Africa and Canada, as well as many amazing places in the United States. The trophies that hang on my wall fill me with memories that I am thankful to have, but there are also blank spots that I had envisioned filling with more trophies. They remind me that I can no longer hunt like that. My social media feeds reinforce that frustration. Not only do I see friends enjoying their hunts and outfitters with whom I have hunted guiding smiling clients to their dreams, I am also a member of several online communities who share the same passion. There, I see trophy rooms that I dreamed of having and hunts I dreamed of experiencing. Where I once looked for inspiration and ideas, I now see a fantasy world. Then, there are the travel posts, like my friend’s trek on the Appalachian Trail. I see people standing on mountain tops, rafting on rivers and exploring the coastline of Greece – all things that I wish that I could do. Sadly, that world no longer exists for me, and that makes it all the more important that I be grateful for what I have and rejoice in the successes of others. I am learning to look past the blank spots on my walls and instead focus on the trophies that I am very fortunate to have. Why spend time and emotion on what I don’t have when I can appreciate all that I do have? Likewise, why waste energy on jealousy and envy when I can look with wonder and awe on the experiences of others?  No matter who you are, what you have and what you have been blessed to experience, there is someone who would like to walk in your shoes, if only occasionally, and they would be truly puzzled if you weren’t filled with gratitude. Just as important, experience as much of this life as you possibly can and share your experiences with others. Lastly, don’t torment yourself by worrying about things beyond your reach. Be thankful and rejoice in your life and the lives around you.

But, Could It Be Better?

By Mitch Arnold • July 26, 2026
When facing challenging situations, my go-to response is often “it could be worse.” It’s raining: it could be worse. We could be scooping this stuff. It’s hot outside: it could be worse. At least we have air conditioning. The “it could be worse” response is a simple and common way of putting things into perspective, summoning at least a modicum of gratitude and showing the absurdity of petty complaining. Unfortunately, it can also blind us to the potential of “it could be better.” I say it aloud frequently when I am with people, but I also mutter “it could be worse,” to myself when I am alone and struggling with my mobility. That simple phrase has brought me peace and acceptance, as I have experienced progressive physical challenges throughout most of my entire adult life. While things could definitely be worse, and I’m right to summon gratitude when negativity creeps in, I was recently reminded that sometimes things could be better, and if that’s possible, I should do everything I can to make them better. For more than 40 years, I have lifted weights five to six times per week, and that has allowed me to maintain a fairly active lifestyle, but lifting alone isn’t cutting it anymore. Despite frequent exercise, I have struggled to get around more than usual for the past year or so, and that has made my world even smaller. Despite this, I persisted with a positive attitude and told myself, “it could be worse.” Not until the discomfort and limitations began to prevent me from doing things I should be doing, like meeting friends for breakfast, did I consider the possibility that things could be better. Making sure that I realized this was my wife Lynda who had been on me to try physical therapy, since my primary physician wrote a prescription for it a year and a half ago. I resisted because, though I am positive about almost everything else, I was pessimistic about what modern medicine could do for me. I had done physical therapy as a child, and have undergone several medical procedures that did little to improve my condition and seemed to provide only frustration. How was this going to be different? But it was. After only two sessions and a daily regimen of stretching and purposeful movement over the past four weeks, plus the strength training, I have already improved my mobility. Stairs are easier and walking, less painful and troublesome. That has greatly helped my energy level, focus and confidence. Even when I fell and sprained my ankle a couple of days ago, the recovery was easier. While things could definitely be better, they could also be much worse, as they were for me a month or so ago. Had I not relented and at least considered the possibility that things could be better, I would have continued being unnecessarily limited. Are you unnecessarily limited? If you are going through a difficult period in your life – maybe your job or a relationship isn’t as fulfilling as it once was – consider the possibility that things could be better. Always lean into gratitude for what you have, but don’t let resignation obscure options for improvement.