A New Year

Well, this is New Years Eve. I have had the good fortune and blessing of being surrounded by people who believe in me and want the best for me. In the past few weeks I have received additional confirmation of those facts in the form of encouragement, prayer, wise counsel, and additional tools to aid in the pursuit of my own goals and dreams. Consequently, I face this coming New Year with a renewed vision and optimism. To that end, I wanted to offer you something a little different today. So, instead of poetry, here’s a dose of good old fashioned prose. It seemed fitting, as this short story came out of a week of rain and looks towards a hopeful future, towards something new and better. My hope and prayer for you is that your New Year may be full of promise and the courage to take hold of it.

A Ring Around The Moon
By Frank Carpenter
The iridescent moon was not quite full, though seeming somehow larger than usual... almost as if it filled the entire evening sky. And then there was the ring, that big beautiful ring around the moon. Not a small ring like halo or a belt. No, a giant, endless, wonderful ring. For that moment, the ring seemed to encircle all that I knew or could imagine. For that moment, the moon and the universe within the ring which enveloped it were everything. The silver sky, or something within it, held me entranced, as it were, for a time unmeasured, or unmeasurable. Perhaps I lay there only for a moment, an instant, though it might just as well have been a lifetime.
Nonetheless, I felt as though everything changed during the encounter. That conclusion was unmistakable. The winds of change blew over me. Silently, sweetly, certainly. They were not such winds as I could detect merely with my senses, or which disturbed so much as a single blade of grass around me. There were the winds which blow through our souls and swirl within our very being, the winds of inner change.
The moon was still there, and very much so. The ring was still there. Yet, suddenly, I became aware of other things around me. Other things which had long cried out to be noticed, to be understood. Who's voices had been carried away by other winds and drowned out by more urgent voices. Yet, now I saw, I felt, I knew.
I became aware of the ground beneath me. How long had I lay there, in the wet grass beneath the moon and its ring? Ah, the ring. It had been raining for days. The ground was wet, more than wet. It more held me than supported me, but the feeling was not unpleasant. The grip of the wet ground against my back, against me long soaked clothing was a comfort, almost a relief. Without the pull of the moist earth, I might well hare drifted off toward the moon above, lured b the intoxicating glow.
I could feel more than just the ground beneath me. There was more, much more. There was a whole world. The same world I had always known, yet which now seemed strange and wild and undiscovered. That was the change. I could no longer accept everything which before had been so clear, so concrete. I knew the world had not changed in the least, but I had. So, in relation to me, everything else must change as well. I inhaled deeply. Not the kind of breath which merely replenished oxygen in my lungs. I inhaled something better, deeper. It was a breath of life, of things so long left undone, unsaid, unknown. I was different.
However, I understood somehow that I could not be different alone. I must make the world around me to be different like me, or with me. Was it a calling? Perhaps more of an accepting. The acceptance of a call so long unheeded, one nearly snuffed out in the shuffle of daily life with all of its infinite, urgent details begging to be attended to. We get so busy with living that it becomes something less than living. I had forgotten how important every minute detail is. I had forgotten how very important life is. Now, I remembered.
All of this happened within the circle which held me all that time. The ring around the moon. Just an optical illusion, water vapor, reflected light, barometric pressure. Perhaps. Moon dust and magic are, however, somehow more appealing. A sign, a signal, a catalyst. It was enough. For whatever reason, I would never be the same. I could not, nor could anything else be. Blame it on the ring, the moon, the movie, romance, whatever. The world, the universe, were entirely different than they had been just a shore time before. It matters not the reason, for the why and the hows only serve themselves, yet they would be our masters if we tarry long enough to let them enslave us. No, there are other more pressing issues at hand ... broader frontiers yet undiscovered. Let it begin.

May you have a blessed New Year ... and the courage to make it a better one.

Real Men

Sometimes it’s difficult to be a man in this modern world. Unfortunately, good old fashioned men who earn a living, take care of their children and stay married to their wives rarely get a fair shake or any encouragement. This is due, at least in part, to the fact that the image and role of manhood has been twisted entirely out of proportion by mainstream media. Television, movies and literature often portray manhood in terms of appearance and super human feats of athletic prowess. The rub is that the media uses professional models and the recipients of plastic surgery in setting physical standards. Then those same "unreal" men are made to look even better through the use of stunt men and special effects. This leaves society with male icons who are completely unrealistic. Worse yet, those used to set the standard as role models often turn out to be moral, ethical, relational or financial failures in real life. The same goes for professional athletes. We place them on pedestals because they excel at a certain sport, but they often turn out to be terrible role models in other areas of their lives. How then is a regular guy with an average mind, body and stock portfolio supposed to compete? The fact is that the real super heros in life rarely enter the limelight. They are disguised as teachers and laborers, doctors and parents, aunts and uncles and grandparents. The real men in this world are generally the quiet, steady ones who stay with their wives, take care of their families and volunteer for things that don’t serve their own egos. Oh, there are plenty of real men out there in the world. However, you won’t find them flaunting their biceps down at muscle beach. Look for them around the dinner table with their families or teaching Sunday school. Better yet, check out the head table at a 50th wedding anniversary party. That’s where real men can be found. Blockbuster movies can be very entertaining, but always remember that they are fantasy. Real men may not look like action heros, but they have super hero hearts.

Real Men
The world tells us real men are the burly, brawny types
Tough guys, athletes and outdoors men all fit the mold of media hypes
We adore them in the movies, we cheer them on the playing field
Men of strength and grit and courage who conquer all and never yield
Indeed, we want to be like them, we try to do the things they do
Assuming conquest and adventure will make us real men too
Yet, in this world of twisted values we sometimes fail to realize
That real men and real heroes come in every shape and size
There are a myriad of battles never billed as main events
Where other kinds of warriors strive in countless hours spent
At homes and schools and churches, Scouts Troops and Sunday school
Where real heroes sacrifice and live the golden rule
They donate their time and talents, their weekends and their nights
In service to their fellow man because they know it’s right
To give where others have a need and ease the burden of
The widow, orphan and the homeless, for real men know how to love
They have compassion for the elderly and broken-hearted ones
Embracing troubled youths like their own daughters and their sons
They are honest with their feelings serving children, friends and wives
They make the world a better place because it touched their lives
Real men aren’t made of muscle, yet they are men of valor still
Gentle men of inner strength, who simply do God’s will
By Frank Carpenter ©

His Only Son

One last reminder to those of you who wander into the sphere of my influence: The root word of Christmas is "Christ." It’s so easy to get caught up in the all the hoopla of our traditional secular Christmas celebration, but please pause to remember what this day is really all about. At the heart of all the trappings, this is our day to thank God for sending His only son to a sinful world for the purpose of offering salvation to all mankind. So please celebrate the Christ child who was born on the first Christmas day. Take that wonderful story to heart and share it with others. Tell it to your children and grandchildren, your nephews and nieces ... and write it upon your own heart. Today’s poem comes from late one Christmas Eve when I myself had entirely lost track of what Christmas was supposed to be about. I hope you may discover something in it for yourself and your own family. "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

His Only Son
It was Christmas eve around midnight
the presents were under the tree
The stockings were stuffed, but somehow
it just didn't feel like Christmas to me
We had read the Christmas story together
before the kids went to bed
But all night I had felt kind of empty
somewhere in my heart or my head
The magic of Christmas was missing
it had faded for me through the years
As tradition became repetition
until I no longer held Christmas dear
Instead it seemed more of a bother
and an expensive bother at that
Nothing more than an inconvenience
more mess, more bills, more fat
It was late, far too late, I imagined
and the end of a very long day
But I figured I better look in on the kids
before I hit the hay
In my son's room I had a strange feeling
as if something was left out of place
Then I noticed the moon light streaming
in and how it lit up his young face
I thought to myself, "sure, it's Christmas
there must be sugar plums dancing in there"
I gave him a kiss as I reached down
to brush back a wisp of his hair
Then I knew, in an instant, I saw it
what really happened on Christmas day
As my heart raced back to another child
long ago and far away
To a boy who was sleeping, as mine did
on that very first Christmas night
I saw his peaceful face awash
in the very same moonlight
Then I realized, finally, what God did
and the depth of that terrible price
God paid when He offered His only Son
for us all as a sacrifice
Of course, now I saw it so clearly
in the light of my love for my son
My own flesh and blood, whom I
certainly never would give up for anyone
But that's just what God did with Jesus
he sent Him to suffer and die
God sent Him because of His love for me
as I saw it I started to cry
And me, I was tired of Christmas
but I just didn't know what it meant
I had gotten too busy to notice the Savior
I knew that God had sent
I was filled with the joy and wonder
which eluded me all of these years
Now it was there, I could feel it
as it came flooding in through the tears
There, alone on my knees, in the darkness
I finally understood
That on Christmas God gave the greatest gift
of love that anyone could
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Measure of a Man

Today is the first anniversary of my father’s passing. It was a dreadful week of dreadful news, airplane flights, hospital visits, difficult decisions and losing my dad. Needless to say, it made for a world record rotten Christmas. Time passes, however, and time heals. As I look back over this past year, I find that I am at peace with my loss and with the part it has played in my emotional life. Upon reflection, I have also come to understand that a man’s legacy has nothing to do with his estate. It has to do with people. If you made a difference, if people love you and choose to carry you with them in their hearts after you are gone, that is legacy enough to make a life count for something. That is the measure of a man. My tribute to my father, then, is my own life and how he helped to shape it. Once again, so long, Pop.

The Measure of a Man
What is the measure of a man
So much more than himself, I find
A man can’t be measured all alone
But by those he leaves behind
Show me a trail of kindness
Of love and of character
Friends and family that he leaves
Are a legacy that will endure
Some build sky scrapers to the clouds
Others conquer the mountains and seas
But all of their efforts are folly unless
They won the hearts of their families
The words that we chisel in granite
Are a poor substitute, at best
Show me the lives of the folks he loved
Of the ones who lay him to rest
As we say goodby to any man
The best of him lives with us yet
They are the measure of his life
And one we shall never forget
By Frank Carpenter ©

Tomorrow, I’ll be back with another Christmas poem, but it seems appropriate to close with the poem I wrote on Christmas Eve last year as I flew home from my father’s death bed. Then I will move on and look forward to this year’s Christmas.

Epilogue
I signed the papers at the hospital
All the arrangements have been made
Called his closest friends and family
Obligatory visits paid
Tied up the loose ends at the ranch
Raced to the airport, once again
On the cell phone constantly
And I can’t remember when
I have ever been this tired
Felt so empty or so spent
The time I hoped was for reflection
Or for long walks came and went
Now I’m finally on the airplane
With my cell phone packed away
Where no one can reach me for a while
For a few brief hours today
There is so much left to think about
So many tears to cry
But I’ve made my peace with dad and God
So I lean back with a sigh
Knowing that I’ve done my duty
To myself ... to everyone
There comes a time to say "enough"
For now, my work is done
So I close my eyes to thank God
For the tender mercies He
Has shown throughout these dark days
As I felt Him comfort me
The path of grief and sorrow
Through the darkness, broad and deep
Shall wait until tomorrow
As now, mercifully, I sleep
By Frank Carpenter ©

Sleighs & Saviors

"Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy ..."
Well, it’s finally time for me to put in my plug about the true meaning of Christmas. That’s pretty straight forward, don’t you think. The upcoming joyous holiday has come to mean a great many things. We’ve filled it with trees and lights and wrapping paper. We’ve added food and presents and music and decorations and, of course, Santa Claus.. It’s all quite festive. However, Christmas is technically the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, the only Son of God and Messiah for the entire human race. The passing of time and tradition have draped this blessed day with all manor of distractions, but it still boils down to that one child, born to a virgin and laid in a manger in Bethlehem. The story of the incarnation of the God of the universe and the fulfillment of dozens of ancient prophesies is both miraculous and compelling. Yet, with all the light, color and wonder of modern technology and entertainment Jesus begins to look somewhat somber and boring to the average child who has been offered Santa as a substitute. So let’s enjoy all the fun and tradition, but let us also get the story straight so that our children, friends, family and neighbors hear the true story of Christmas as well. As you rush towards the big day, my prayer is that you may discover the Christ of Christmas in your own heart and share the message of His miraculous birth with all the folks you encounter.

Sleighs and Saviors
Every where we see him
About this time of year
The fat guy in the magic sleigh
Who spreads the Christmas cheer
He always looks so jolly
You never see him sad
For a guy who's several hundred years old
He doesn't look half bad
But up close it's a different story
His clothes are poorly made
His boots are army surplus
And his plastic beard is frayed
Another thing I've noticed
If he's such a wonderful chap
Then why does he charge six dollars
For kids to sit on his lap?
But there's another Christmas hero
Who gives his love for free
He doesn't bring candy or presents
But he cares for you and me
He doesn't use elves or reindeer
Or live way up north in the snow
In fact, he was born in the desert
A very long time ago
Of course, I am speaking of Jesus
Who was born on Christmas day
But he gives his love all through the year
And he takes our sins away
While it's true that the guy in the red suit
Has more showmanship and appeal
Clearly the difference between the two
Is that Jesus Christ is real!
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Last Word

I had a lovely Christmas poem all picked out for today. Sometimes, however, in the ebb and flow of life our train of thought gets redirected and such was the case today. We all have different opinions on various issues, which at times can lead to conflict. Now, we can circle around and around on an issue and argue until we’re blue in the face. Yet, in the end, each man must make his own decision about what he will think and do ... and be. When that time comes, others have no choice but to back off and let that man make his choices. Each man, after all, has both the right and the responsibility to live his own life. May the Lord, then, grant that we choose our way wisely and make the most of our one and only life.

The Last Word
There is comfort in the company
Of those whom we respect
And wisdom in their counsel
When our courses intersect
But in the end the course a man
Must follow is his own
The final choice he makes himself
And does so all alone
Alone, he walks the hallowed halls
Of independent thought
Alone, he must decide at last
Each thing he does, and not
And he who makes that final choice
Who holds the private key
Earns the consequences, good or bad
With the responsibility
We cannot place the blame
Upon another for our deeds
Nor does another have a claim
On us when we succeed
So in the end a man must make
His choices all alone
And reap the harvest he has earned
But at least it is his own
By Frank Carpenter ©

Intrinsic Value

OK, it’s December 14th. Has the shopping started to drive you crazy yet? The whole Christmas shopping things wears me a little thin anyhow, but what I find most frustrating about it is shopping for kids. Their world is filled with brightly colored plastic which is utterly devoid of any intrinsic value. It’s cheap, however, and somehow that seems to make it more easier to bear. Now wait, I was once a little boy and I must admit that I liked all my plastic toys. I will also further admit that, even as an adult, I enjoy the occasional video game. When it comes to actually shopping, however, I find myself wandering down the cavernous isles of Toys R Us and thinking to myself, "Oh my God, is this how we equip and entertain the future citizens of the human race?" First of all, there’s a lot of plain old junk out there. Then there’s nicer toys that actually "do" something, but you know they’ll be destroyed in a matter of days, weeks or months. Then we got the whole video game and electronic entertainment genre, which has some interesting options, but also offers lots of blood and gore and guts and witchcraft and a whole host of other uninspiring qualities. Furthermore, much of children’s entertainment tantalizes their senses to the point that over time they build up a resistance to entertainment and require even higher doses of stimulation. It’s getting difficult to sell a book or a puzzle or a board game nowadays. Mirroring the adult world, the world of children is also filled with fool’s gold and it takes some effort to discover truly meaningful gifts that won’t be scoffed at and discarded by their receivers. Yet, we must never give up. There are still things of lasting value in this world of ours and it is our responsibility to help our children, as well as those within our sphere of influence, to discern and appreciate things that are "real." I know it’s a tall order, but what could be more important than the hearts and minds of our children. Now, go get ‘em, shoppers!

Intrinsic Value
I went to the toy store recently
not needing the golden fleece
Just a little something special
I could give my favorite niece
I knew just what she wanted
I had even brought her list
So it didn't seem too difficult
to get her what she wished
But when I surveyed all the items
I'd been told that she desired
My Christmas spirit sank a bit
and I was uninspired
The doll she wanted, I did not
though it spoke if you gave it a squeeze
But it seemed a shame to snuggle with
someone who needed batteries
She asked for a couple of video games
which I studied in some detail
But the witches, dragons and aliens
seemed to take the wind out of my sails
There were several other options
which would answer her request
And while some of them seemed better
certainly none of them was best
Each appeared it might wear out
before the passing of the year
Or inappropriate for little girls
to play with or hold dear
But the one denominator which
was common to what I surveyed
Was the brightly colored plastic
of which each of them was made
They were marvelous inventions
each a wonder to behold
But something in my head kept saying
"this is fool's gold"
Nothing of intrinsic value
could I find upon her list
I double checked it once again
for any I had missed
But nothing that my niece desired
escaped investigation
So I wandered back out to the mall
still brooding in resignation
I came, at last, upon a book store
and bought some children's classics there
Which was not what she requested
but they fit the bill of fare
And, when opened, brought a warm response
as did the later times
When we sat together for many hours
to read those stories and rhymes
So, in the end, it worked out fine
despite all my frustration
Once I applied some common sense
and a little imagination
The books would last a life time
she might even have them when
It came time to read to a niece of her own
they would truly mean something then
While the plastic toys and gadgets
would be broken and worn out
Or discarded for newer models
which there would be without a doubt
There still are gifts of value
which transcend technology
For the latest thing is obsolete
before it's placed beneath the tree
Electric gadgets and plastic gimmicks
line the aisles of every store
But things of intrinsic value
just seem to mean something more
By Frank Carpenter ©

Adventures

Recently, a friend recounted how he had been reading world history to his 15 year old daughter when she was too tired to keep studying. He had mentioned that, even though it was a history text, it was still enjoyable just to be reading to her again. It reminded me how much I miss reading aloud to my own children. Reading "experts" insist that we should start reading to kids prior to birth and stay at until they move out. Most of us, however, reach a time when they just don’t want to be read to anymore. Good memories though. We started with Dr. Seuss and worked our way right up through the children’s classics. I can’t imagine how many hours I spent curled up with my kids reading to them. There was a time when I was so into it that after an evening out I’d fetch the books from my children’s rooms and "catch up" on the part the baby sitters had read. I think we read "Danger in Quicksand Swamp" three times! Even if you’re like me, with no children at home, there are still people in our lives to read to: nieces and nephews, older parents and grandparents, grandchildren, folks who are sick, and the like. As adults we tend to become functionally illiterate, at least figuratively, because we only read what we absolutely have to. In this world of TV, movies and electronic entertainment, there is a tendency to think that books are obsolete. May it never be! Something magical happens to the human mind when we actually have to use our imaginations instead of having the whole story acted out for us. We need to keep reading and we need to share it with others. If you have kids, read to them all the time. If you don’t have kids around, find some and pass on that most precious of gifts ... the human imagination. And please, try not to fall asleep or skip any pages. Adventures With each book, a new adventure Beckons from the page unturned Where mysteries await, unsolved And lessons yet unlearned We can hardly wait for story time And for each book unread Which awaits us there, upon the shelf Next to my child's bed What will our story be tonight Are pirates on the prowl The pioneers are heading west Eagle, hawk or great horned owl Gators in a secret swamp Or sailing ships of old Will we foil the villain, after all Or find the hidden gold The possibilities are endless Cries of excitement still resound For high adventure in the sky Beneath the sea or underground Our imaginations draw us in To worlds we never dreamed To plots which twist and turn in ways We never would have schemed Until we finish up a book And see it to the end Then we simply pull another down And start off, once again To share adventures of discovery In places strange and new The magic world of books and story time The magic world I share with you By Frank Carpenter ©

Days of Infamy

Today is Pearl Harbor Day. Most of our parents and grandparents remember right where they were when they heard the news of the Japanese attack on Pear Harbor. Those of us who are at least a generation away simply remember the poignant opening words of President Roosevelt’s speech to Congress: "Yesterday, December 7th 1941, a day which will live in infamy..." That attack drew the United States into World War II and the rest is history. As I considered this day, however, I realized that those of us who missed WWII recently had the opportunity to experience what Pearl Harbor felt like to the average American. That is because we lived through September 11, 2001. Like Pearl Harbor, that day brought an unprovoked surprise attack on American soil, resulting in a similar number of deaths. We experienced the shock, the sorrow and, eventually, the rise of an anger which cried out for justice. Perhaps all the more so because the September 11th attacks were primarily against civilians. Also, due to our modern technology, virtually every American repeatedly saw the news footage of the planes striking the World Trade Center and the collapse of the towers. So today is a day to think back over the years, to remember the events of 1941 and how they changed the course of history. I would encourage us to remember 2001 as well, for it evokes the same feelings and the war it sparked is still under way. That war is not just one of armed conflict, but a war of ideologies which will help to shape the next fifty years of history. As we look back on those two days, I offer a pair of poems which return us to that roller coaster of emotions. I wrote them both on September 11, while sitting at my desk that morning and watching the endless reruns of the images that terrible day brought to us. Below the poems, you will also find the entire text of FDR’s famous speech to Congress on December 8, 1941. I believe you may discover the emotions expressed therein to be familiar, even if you weren’t born yet. I daresay that "Happy Pearl Harbor Day" is most likely an inappropriate greeting to offer you, being something of an oxymoron. Nonetheless, I do encourage you to think long and hard on this day in history and takes it’s lessons to heart as we march forward in the creation of our own current history. Every once in a great while there is a "day of infamy" ... and they must never be forgotten.

Somewhere in the Rubble
Somewhere in the rubble
At this moment, there are tears
Suffering we can’t imagine
The very worst of all our fears
Calamity in such proportion
That we can scarcely comprehend
Hours of darkness, just beginning
And we have yet to know their end
But somewhere in the rubble
In that city far away
Thousands still are clinging
To a thread of hope today
Our hearts are filled with anger
With bitter shock and with dismay
But let us not forget this hour
To pause and simply pray
For those who are in peril
And their would be rescuers
That God somehow may protect them
Give them strength to yet endure
That He might comfort those with loss
Give wisdom to the leaders there
And wrap His arms around this nation
In our hour of despair
Let us lift our prayers together
As we struggle just to cope
For somewhere in the rubble
There is still a ray of hope
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Heart of Freedom
Beware, you foes of freedom
Who dare to maim and kill
Who, by force, would stand against us
You have galvanized our will
You have struck the heart of freedom
Spilled sacred blood upon our soil
Stung the bastions of democracy
Yet, though we may recoil
Be it known, we shall not falter
In the midst of travesty
A sleeping giant has awakened
Which will rise from the debris
With a resolve and with a fury
Such as you have rarely known
Freedom’s metal has been tested
And now its true strength shall be shown
By Frank Carpenter ©

FDR’s Speech to Congress on December 8, 1941:
Yesterday, Dec. 7, 1941 - a date which will live in infamy - the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan. The United States was at peace with that nation and, at the solicitation of Japan, was still in conversation with the government and its emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the Pacific.
Indeed, one hour after Japanese air squadrons had commenced bombing in Oahu, the Japanese ambassador to the United States and his colleagues delivered to the Secretary of State a formal reply to a recent American message. While this reply stated that it seemed useless to continue the existing diplomatic negotiations, it contained no threat or hint of war or armed attack. It will be recorded that the distance of Hawaii from Japan makes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned many days or even weeks ago. During the intervening time, the Japanese government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace. The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces. Very many American lives have been lost. In addition, American ships have been reported torpedoed on the high seas between San Francisco and Honolulu. Yesterday, the Japanese government also launched an attack against Malaya. Last night, Japanese forces attacked Hong Kong. Last night, Japanese forces attacked Guam. Last night, Japanese forces attacked the Philippine Islands. Last night, the Japanese attacked Wake Island. This morning, the Japanese attacked Midway Island.
Japan has, therefore, undertaken a surprise offensive extending throughout the Pacific area. The facts of yesterday speak for themselves. The people of the United States have already formed their opinions and well understand the implications to the very life and safety of our nation. As commander in chief of the Army and Navy, I have directed that all measures be taken for our defense. Always will we remember the character of the onslaught against us. No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory. I believe I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost, but will make very certain that this form of treachery shall never endanger us again.
Hostilities exist. There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory and our interests are in grave danger. With confidence in our armed forces - with the unbounding determination of our people - we will gain the inevitable triumph - so help us God. I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, Dec. 7, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese empire.
From site: http://odur.let.rug.nl/~usa/P/fr32/speeches/ph.htm

Christmas in Your Heart

Yes, it’s December first and some you are already thinking seriously about Christmas. Some of you even have your lights up already. I visited the mall last weekend and was overwhelmed by the Christmas music and decorations ... and the crowds. In my opinion, it should be illegal to decorate until at least December. Anyhow, the rush has begun and folks are scurrying about shopping, decorating and the likes. The pace has accelerated and already we’ve completely forgotten what Christmas is really about. The root of the word Christmas is Christ. That is what we celebrate. He is what we celebrate. That day two thousand years ago when the God of the universe sent His only son to atone for the sin which separated us from Him. Christmas is the day we celebrate his birth. A host of colorful characters have been added to the holiday, each serving to overshadow the one true God who should be at the forefront of our minds. Lest I ramble on suffice it to say that December 1st would be a great day to start thanking God for the amazing gift He gave us for Christmas. This would be a good time to remind our children, parents, friends, family, coworkers, and even strangers, what this season is really all about. No matter what you buy, where you go or how you decorate, the true Christmas is something that takes place right in your own heart, something just between you and God. Start celebrating right there, in your heart. Let’s make this Christmas count.

Christmas in Your Heart
You can have your cards all printed and addressed by mid-July
You can finish up your shopping by October if you try
You can get the outside lights strung up before Thanksgiving day
Hang the garland and the mistletoe you ordered back in May
You can buy the tree December first and decorate it too
You want your Christmas to be perfect and you know just what to do
But it really isn't Christmas if you leave out one small part
It really isn't Christmas until it's Christmas in your heart
We get so busy getting ready, perhaps it's just an oversight
We get caught up in the merry day and forget the holy night
But Jesus wasn't born so you could have a Christmas tree
He was born to be our Savior and to die on Calvary
Jesus isn't just a gimmick used for selling manger scenes
He is the Christ, the very Son of God, and that's what Christmas means
He is the one who started Christmas, He is the one it's all about
And it isn't really Christmas if we try to leave Him out
So when you make your preparations, Jesus is the place to start
Because it isn't really Christmas, unless it's Christmas in your heart
By Frank Carpenter ©

Compassion

Compassion
If you’re like me you try to do your part. Sure, we take our charity seriously by giving to our local church, supporting a missionary or two, giving to organizations related to our children’s schools and athletic teams. We attend a fund raiser now and then, bid on a ski trip or gift basket at an auction, all the usual stuff. Some months and years we even give the full ten percent you always hear about, if things have gone well. However, that’s where most of us draw the line. We might visit a sick friend in the hospital, but we never even speak to a homeless or handicapped person. Orphans? They’re all down in Mexico, right? Oh, we’re always willing to write a check if someone twists our arm, but we rarely get our hands dirty with the actual work of caring for people. We sub all of that out to others, to "professionals" with more training and time than we could ever hope to spare. Does that sound like you too? My concern is that most of us never serve on the front lines of compassion. We think it’s too far away, too messy, too inconvenient. Sadly, however, we fail to realize that no matter where we are right now there are plenty of hungry, homeless and sick people with ten miles of us ... probably even five. God forbid that we should ever go out looking for them as we would surely find them and feel some sort of obligation to them. No, better to let others look after the poor and indigent while we remain safely in the protected circles of our own whitewashed little worlds. Lest you be offended here rest assured that I have climbed down off of the soap box and am preaching to myself as well. I’m the first one to lift a pen and write a check, but usually the last one to lift a finger, if at all. Regardless of my own inaction, however, in my heart of hearts I know that while God appreciates our money, he really wants our action, our time and talents. He knows that the most costly and frightening thing of all is to expose our hearts to those in need, to love them and draw them into our own lives. That is exactly what Jesus did. He stepped out into the crowd, spoke to hurting people and loved them right where they were. And that, I daresay, is just what He would have us do. That is His example. Oh, we need to participate financially, but real love, real compassion, will always be measured in people rather than dollars. Those are the most costly contributions, the ones which tale the true tale of the state of our hearts.

Compassion
So often the subject of lofty thoughts
Of words which long for deeds
But compassion is empty and incomplete
Until it steps forward to meet the needs
A thousand gallons of passionate tears
Ten thousand hours of prayer
Mean nothing unless we roll up our sleeves
And add action to how we care
It’s far too easy to write a check
Sending others to do our work
Yet unless we serve the broken ourselves
True compassion is something we shirk
The widow, the orphan, the homeless
The hungry and outcast near at hand
Are waiting to know our compassion
And reshape the security we had planned
For however God has blessed us
Has only prepared us to serve
We must allow Him to loosen our heart strings
To rethink who we are and what we deserve
The test of our love and compassion
Transcends what we’re willing to give
God counts the cost of our actions
For true compassion is something we live
By Frank Carpenter ©

Echos of Devotion

Today I would like to write about homes. Any home which contains family memories certainly falls under this category. However, my primary focus in this session is that of homes that hold a great many memories, perhaps over a long period of time. My inspiration here is twofold. To begin with, this particular poem was written this last summer in the boyhood home of a dear friend whose father had recently passed away. As I wrote, I actually was sitting in the green chair by the hearth in the library of that house, pondering some of the memories which had been recounted to me. My friend had grown up there and his parents had remained in the home until their golden anniversary. Sadly, it has since been sold and knowing such a sale was eminent I was attempting to capture some of the valued memories as a keepsake for the family. A home can hold so much history, much of it intangible, and when we lose the building we are often relinquishing many of the reminders which serve as a gateway to those memories.
At this moment, those sentiments are all the more poignant as I write these very words while sitting in my father’s favorite chair in his house on our ranch in Oklahoma. This place, this very chair, are the sanctuaries of countless cherished memories. And, much like my friend’s boyhood home, the future of this house and, therefore, its access to my own past remain somewhat in limbo. Doubtless, the people are more important than the memories and the memories more valuable than the real estate in their own way. Yet, we cling to that which is familiar, that which seems to connect us to our past and the people who dwell therein. Such a home, while still in our possession, allows us wander the forgotten halls of our youth and listen for familiar voices in the creak of tired floorboards or rain drops upon the roof. We always fear that somehow our connection to these memories may be lost once we can no longer engage them in their natural habitat. For instance, so long as I am able to sit here in my father’s favorite chair I have the feeling that he is still here with me, after a fashion ... or at least I am with him. Such is the fate of we mortals who dwell in this tangible world. It is our nature to cling to the props associated with our existence here. Our memories, however, have a much longer shelf life than the buildings we tend to store them in. We must always remember that, and make every effort to write those memories not only into our hearts, but the hearts of our children for we are responsible to them as the guardians of their heritage. Often, we are unable to permanently maintain the tangible repositories of our past, like this house where I write from today. Yet, we can glean what they have to offer and treasure those memories up in our hearts to carry with us for a lifetime. However, while opportunity allows, I’ll just sit right here in my father’s favorite chair, in his favorite room, in his favorite place and soak up whatever memories happen to come my way. And someday, when this room is gone or changed or unavailable, I may be able to describe it to my grandchildren and pass my memories on to them ... perhaps even as I sit in my own favorite chair somewhere.

Echos of Devotion
In the quiet of the library
I tarried for a spell
With the party out of earshot down the hall
To leaf through some weathered volumes
In the green chair by the hearth
And admire a favorite painting on the wall
Like every room in this house
This one echos with the memories
From half a century of life, and more
And though things are quiet now
I clearly have a sense somehow
Of all that happened here and came before
I hear the songs of children
On the stair and in the garden
Through happy years of family time here spent
I feel the love maturing
A lifetime of joy still echos
In the halls with countless whispers of content
And there is grief, I sense it
In the quiet of the corners
For loss must come to every house, we know
But the memories here gathered
In this old house whisper volumes
Of a family’s love which spanned from long ago
By Frank Carpenter ©

The One I Usually Miss

Oft have I written on today’s theme, but it just happened to nudge it’s way back up to the top of the pile. We are all so busy, trying to get everything done and everyone taken care of, that life slips right by us sometimes. All the more so this time of year, without daylight savings time, when it seems as if I commute to work both directions in the dark and miss many a beautiful autumn day altogether. Countless sunsets go unnoticed while I try to accomplish a few more seemingly important tasks at the office. Meanwhile, bits of life slowly drift away like so much flotsam and jetsam in the great ocean experience. Do you ever feel that way, like you’re just a little out of control and run right past some amazing things you wish you could stop for? Every once in a while, I’ll pause to catch the sunset and think, "Why don’t I do this every day?" Most of those days just rush right by. Kids grow older. We grow older ... while a thousand little opportunities drift away because we were too busy to enjoy them. Today, however, would be a good day to make a change. Go home a little early. Take a walk. Get down on the floor and play with the kids. Fly a kite. Pray. Whatever. Take hold of those moments you cherish and try not to let all of them slip from your grasp. It’s your life, after all, and you have the right to live it. Have a great day ... and don’t forget to savor every moment!

The One I Usually Miss
Today, I stopped to watch the sunset
The one I usually miss
But there it was, like every day
Though I rarely stop like this
In fact, I really had no choice
So perfect was the scene
A man would be a fool to pass
On such a moment so serene
Far too often, I’ve been a fool
Letting life just pass me by
How many sunsets have I wasted
I ponder with a loathsome sigh
How much beauty, how much wonder
How many perfect, pristine days
Have I been too busy to notice
And cast heedlessly away
How areas of my life
Indeed, have suffered so
How many chances have I wasted
To watch my children grow
How many neighbors have walked past
When there was the chance to be
To be the very friend they needed
So very much has slipped by me
I must pause like this more often
And take each opportunity
To find the wonder in my life each day
Before it slips by me
By Frank Carpenter ©

My Protector

It seems like there’s always someone in my life who is sick or hurting or in the hospital. Indeed, if it’s not something, it’ll be something else. This poem goes out to several folks I know who are dealing with serious illness or may even now be in the hospital. I myself, sadly, am no stranger to hospitals and today’s literary offering was written from my own hospital bed three years ago, give or take a week. In fact, Thanksgiving marks the anniversary of some ongoing health problems which I hope are behind me for good. Nonetheless, my compassion for those in such need is all the more poignant due to my own experience. A sick bed can be a very lonely, sometimes even hopeless, place and we must all learn to remember that our God has authority over sickness and death. In this world of darkness, He is a constant light of hope and victory. Please share this poem with anyone whom you think may need just such an encouragement and let us look together towards the One who is our protector in those darkest of hours.

My Protector
Amidst the very depths of darkness
Within the clutches of my fear
The light of hope and comfort
Pierces through the shadows here
To lift my waning spirits
And remind me that my king
Shall never forsake His servant
Whatever trials life may bring
Whatever storms beset me
However the tempests blow
I know my protector is with me
His word has declared it so
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Difficult Words

No matter how wonderful life can be at times, there always seem to be some difficult moments with the people who share our journey here. Whether they are strangers merely darting through our lives or the people whom we care most deeply about, we will surely disagree from time to time. Once the train of communication gets derailed then everyone gets their feelings hurt and they all walk away thinking, "I’ll be dammed if I’m giving in first." The secret, however, to getting along over the long haul is learning how to show respect and grace ... even when we can’t find a reason to offer either, even when we feel we’ve been wronged. For once we put on the relational blinders of disappointment and resentment it becomes extremely difficult to feel any emotional charity towards or fellow sojourners. How can we avoid the kind of conflict which can result in unwanted damage? First, we need to take nice deep breath prior to speaking or answering any accusation, or even count to ten. (Or a hundred) Once we have spoken, however, once we have walked away and avoided someone things tend to get a little more dicey. Then it takes someone to speak first, not to give in or necessarily concede , but at least someone willing to swallow their pride enough to open a dialog. That act itself can melt a lot of the ice which forms in a chilly relationship. From there on it just takes patience and grace, lots of grace. Those difficult words don’t, by their very nature come easily, but they are well worth the effort. It takes some prayer, some patience, a little swallowed pride and an earnest desire to get that relational train back on the right track. If you are there yourself right now, be the one to make the call. You’ll never regret it.

The Difficult Words
Lord, when the difficult words come
When they must be spoken or heard
When so much is at stake and so much
Seems to be wrapped up in every word
Then Lord, give us wisdom and patience
As we struggle so to convey
What must be said and accepted
In our discourse on days like today
Lord, soften our hearts to each other
That we might be sensitive
In dealing with sisters and brothers
Today, and each day that we live
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Second Best God

We live in a world which pulls in many directions. God calls upon us to honor and serve Him. Our families, our work, our friends and other commitments all clamor for attention. Furthermore, whether we admit it or not, money also tugs at our heart strings and demands its place in our lives. It disguises itself as success, security, prosperity, opportunity, responsibility and a host of other euphemistic para-virtues. However, the fact remains that ten times a day, a hundred times a week, a thousand times a year we make tiny choices that draw us away from God in favor things financial. Many of those choices seem prudent and responsible, and usually even are if we don’t make allowance for the exchange rate into God’s economy. Yet, in the midst of all those choices we take incremental, almost imperceptible, steps away from God. We place our trust in the things of this world, often borrowing against the "treasures of heaven" to do so. Indeed, this is virtually unavoidable. We live in this world. We have responsibilities in this world. We naturally make most of our decisions based upon that perspective. Over time, though, our hearts are drawn far the God who should be our first love. We begin to depend upon our investments and retirement. We justify houses and cars and all manor of creature comforts which may not conform to God’s desires and the clear path towards heaven begins to grow hazy because we’ve become overly entrenched in the here and now. In the end, our lives betray a worship of the second best god, the god of this world, rather than the God of heaven. Before you begin pointing fingers, I daresay that the lion’s share of these burning coals is heaped upon my own head, for I am at best just like everyone else. Jesus said that we cannot serve both God and mammon (money) and I don’t pretend to fully understand either that statement or the fullness of its ramifications. What I do know it this: those who would follow the Christ need to look closely at his life and example. Let us not settle for the promises and security of the second best god when the true God has so much more to offer. I’m not quite sure how that must play out in our lives, but it certainly begs for a closer look and much prayer. May the Lord grant wisdom to all of us who seek it in this area of our lives.

The Second Best God
What do we place our trust in
Where do we find our security
What do we worship with our lives
With our time and talents, continually
We cannot serve God and mammon
Those are the bible’s words
Yet we often choose to ignore them
And such wisdom goes unheard
The God of heaven calls us
To worship Him, and Him alone
But we turn from Him with deaf ears
With hearts and minds of stone
To worship the second best god
The almighty dollar we love so dear
In which we place our hope and trust
Throughout each day and year
Our lips may declare it otherwise
But our lives betray our zeal
As we serve the second best god
The one with so much appeal
Who do you serve, God or mammon?
Would the people who know you agree
With the words of your profession
Or call it a travesty
Each of us must examine our lives
Our time, our words, our deeds
Study our check book registers
Winnowing out our desires from needs
Only then can we hope to determine
Which God we really serve
Don’t waste your life on the second best one
Give the real God the praise He deserves
By Frank Carpenter ©

Before There Were Sidewalks

There is a tendency in our grown up world to pander primarily to adults. It occurs to me today that some of my favorite friends are children and they receive a very small amount of my attention. So today’s poem is for the kids, for your kids as well. This simple story explores the way in which society and our surroundings are in a constant state of change. Some folks talk endlessly about the way things used to be. Others think only of the here and now and some are always looking towards the future. The only thing we can be sure of is that things will change. If we understand that one fact, we have taken the first step towards being prepared for whatever will come. When we wonder about what came before we open the door to dreaming of what is yet to come. And so it goes. Hope this one gets your gears turning.

Before There Were Sidewalks
Before there were sidewalks
To roller skate on
There were board walks of wood
But now those are gone
And before there were board walks
They just walked in the street
Back when streets were all muddy
And not very neat
Before there were streets
Or towns here at all
There were just plain dirt roads
That were dusty and small
And before there were roads
That criss-crossed the lands
There were just pony trails
Made by Indian bands
And way back before that
Before people came here
There were only the paths
Left by foxes and deer
There were only the mountains
And meadows and trees
The soft sounds of nature
And tall grass in the breeze
And that's how it was
Back before people came
The land never changed
Things were always the same
But now there are sidewalks
To roller skate on
I wonder if the sidewalks
Will ever be gone?
By Frank Carpenter ©

Veterans Day

Fellow citizens, in case you may have forgotten today is Veterans Day. I believe this should be one of our most cherished national holidays because it honors those who have served our country. It was originally Armistice Day, set aside to honor those who served in WWI, since that was the first real global conflict and considered the "war to end all wars." Then WWII came along, which was even bigger and the holiday was expanded to cover it as well. We now recognize Veterans Day as being devoted to all service men and women who have served in conflicts abroad on our behalf. And we continue to be at war, even today. Without belaboring our current conflict or any political ramifications thereof, let me just encourage all my fellow Americans to pause for a moment to reflect upon the service and sacrifice of all those who have fought to defend not only our freedoms, but the freedom of countless others around the world. Let’s thank God for what they have done and let us also, as a nation, pray for the safety and courage of those who are currently serving on our behalf. Ironically, freedom isn’t free ... and this day is set aside for the purpose of honoring those who best understand what the cost is. I actually began writing today’s poem on Memorial Day but never quite got closure. This weekend, however, when I began to think about Veterans Day, the words finally gelled. If you know someone in the military take the time to write, call or pray for them. If you know someone who served in the past, do the same. Veterans Day is a day of mourning and a day of gratitude. It is a day when we remember our obligations not only to our own great nation, but to others who count upon us the world over. Let us be a nation who remembers, and be sure to remind others what day it is and why we celebrate it. If you are interested, you will find below my poem a history of Veterans Day which makes very interesting reading. May God bless America, now and always.

The Cost of Freedom
As we consider Veterans Day
Let us remember what this day means
Let us remember the rows of head stones
Stretching across the fields of green
Each stands in tribute to those fallen
On behalf of this nation we share
Men and women who proudly served
Who paid with their last breath of air
For the lofty ideals of democracy
For the freedom of each of us
Often dying in far away lands
While never betraying our trust
Freedom isn’t free at all
It is costly beyond compare
Purchased by the precious blood
Of heros, and loved one’s despair
So as we celebrate Veterans Day
In this land of the brave and free
May we be ever mindful
Of the awesome responsibility
We owe to those who have fallen
Whom our nation was built upon
Let us fight to preserve that freedom
So our children may carry it on
By Frank Carpenter ©

HISTORY OF VETERANS DAY
Official recognition of the end of the first modern global conflict -- World War I - - was made in a concurrent resolution (44 Stat. 1982) enacted by Congress on June 4, 1926, with these words:
WHEREAS the 11th of November 1918, marked the cessation of the most destructive, sanguinary, and far reaching war in human annals and the resumption by the people of the United States of peaceful relations with other nations, which we hope may never again be severed, and
WHEREAS it is fitting that the recurring anniversary of this date should be commemorated with thanksgiving and prayer and exercises designed to perpetuate peace through good will and mutual understanding between nations; and
WHEREAS the legislatures of twenty-seven of our States have already declared November 11 to be a legal holiday: Therefore be it Resolved by the Senate (the House of Representatives concurring), That the President of the United States is requested to issue a proclamation calling upon the officials to display the flag of the United States on all Government buildings on November 11 and inviting the people of the United States to observe the day in schools and churches, or other suitable places, with appropriate ceremonies of friendly relations with all other peoples.
An Act (52 Stat. 351; 5 U. S. Code, Sec. 87a) approved May 13, 1938, and the 11th of November in each year a legal holiday - - a day to be dedicated to the cause of world peace and to be hereafter celebrated and known as " Day. " Armistice Day was primarily a day set aside to honor veterans of World War I, but in 1954, after World War II had required the greatest mobilization of soldiers, sailors, marines and airmen in the Nation's history; after American forces had fought aggression in Korea, the 83rd Congress, at the urging of the veterans service organizations, amended the Act of 1938 by striking out the word "Armistice" and inserting in lieu thereof the word "Veterans. " With the approval of this legislation (Public Law 380) on June 1, 1954, November 11th became a day to honor American veterans of all wars.
Later that same year, on October 8th, President Dwight D. Eisenhower issued the first "Veterans Day Proclamation " which stated:
"In order to insure proper and widespread observance of this anniversary, all veterans, all veterans' organizations, and the entire citizenry will wish to join hands in the common purpose. Toward this end, I am designating the Administrator of Veterans' Affairs as Chairman of a Veterans Day National Committee, which shall include such other persons as the Chairman may select, and which will coordinate at the national level necessary planning for the observance. I am also requesting the heads of all departments and agencies of the Executive branch of the Government to assist the National Committee in every way possible."
A letter from the President to the Honorable Harvey V. Higley, Administrator of Veterans' Affairs, was sent on the same date designating him to serve as Chairman. In 1958, the White House advised the VA's General Counsel that there was no need for another letter of appointment for each new Administrator, as the original proclamation in 1954 established the Committee with the Administrator of Veterans' Affairs as Chairman. The Uniforms Holiday Bill (Public Law 90-363 (82 Stat. 250)) was signed on June 28, 1968, and was intended to insure three-day weekends for Federal employees by celebrating four national holidays on Mondays- - Washington's Birthday, Memorial Day, Veterans Day, and Columbus Day. It was thought that these extended weekends would encourage travel, recreational and cultural activities and stimulate greater industrial and commercial production. Many states did not agree with this decision and continued to celebrate the holidays on their original dates. The first Veterans Day under the new law was observed with much confusion on October 25, 1971. It was quite apparent that the commemoration of this day was a matter of historic and patriotic significance to a great number of our citizens, and so on September 20th, 1975, President Gerald R. Ford signed Public Law 94-97 (89 Stat. 479), which returned the annual observance of Veterans Day to its original date of November 11, beginning in 1978. This action supported the express will of the overwhelming majority of the State legislatures, all major service organizations and the American people. The restoration of the observance of Veterans Day to November 11 not only reserves the historical significance of the date, but helps focus attention on the important purpose of Veterans Day: a celebration to honor America's veterans for their patriotism, love of country, and willingness to serve and sacrifice for the common good.
This information came from the following web site at:
http://www1.va.gov/vetsday/page.cfm?pg=3

A Better Friend

When Jesus walked the streets of this world, one of the things He said was, "Love your neighbor as yourself." Later, he upped the ante by commanding us to, "Love one another, even as I have loved you." That raises the bar pretty high, but most of us like to think that we’re kind to everyone and we do a decent job of caring for the people around us. Recently our next door neighbor passed away. Now, he is older and had been sick for a long time so it didn’t come as a great surprise. However, his passing caused me to reconsider how little love and support I had offered to he and his wife during the years. In fact, despite all my lofty words, despite how good a friend I may actually have been to others in my life, I realized that I barely had any relationship with the people who lived next door. Worse yet, other neighbors down the street had been sick, and even died, without my even learning their names. Basically, I haven’t been much of a neighbor at all. Even within my family and group of closer friends I had come through for some folks and completely abandoned others. Sometimes it take something more dramatic to help us realize our shortcomings. This was my something. It’s no secret that I have a lot to say and plenty of advice for everyone else, yet there comes a time for all of us to take the bitter pill of our own experience. Are you like me? Do you have people in your life who need you, who would like to count on you, but you just can’t seem to get around to them? Well, we can’t help everybody. Some folks, however, don’t even call their parents or the obvious folks in their lives. Now I’m not talking from the soap box success here. I’m actually hitting myself over the head with that soap box. However, it’s never too late to become the people we really want to be. In fact, today would be a good day to begin. Today would be a good day to be a better friend.

A Better Friend
I could have been a better friend
Alas, now it cannot be
My next door neighbor died this week
Along with the opportunity
To be a better friend to him
And to love my neighbor well
The way my Lord commanded me
But my good intentions fell
Far short of all my lofty words
And the best intentions I
Aspired to so boisterously
As the days and weeks slipped by
Is there someone you have meant to call
Or who needs your help today
Take the time to be a better friend
Lest the chance should slip away
By Frank Carpenter ©

Lost in St. Louis

My last few postings have been a bit on the heavy side so figured it was time to give folks a break. I’m going to be traveling a bit this weekend and am reminded that when you travel, especially by plane, things don’t always go the way we plan. Today’s wacky poem recounts a time when I was trapped in St. Louis. According to the TWA computer I never arrived. Therefore, it refused to accept my reservation on any outgoing flight. Being left to the mercy of a machine who’s logic was based on faulty information, I resorted to my standard coping mechanism ... satirical poetry. Without digressing further, my point is that sometimes we simply lose control of our lives, or at least parts of them. That’s why we have to be a little flexible and maintain our sense of humor. Otherwise, we just end up pulling our hair out and eventually running amuck in public. I’ll be flying tomorrow and there’s no telling what might happen. More than likely, you’ll also find yourself at the mercy of powers beyond your control as well. That’s OK, it’s part of what makes life interesting. Whenever we inadvertently wander off the map of our well organized lives, we wander into the realm of adventure. With the proper perspective, however, those detours can make for some of the most interesting moments of our lives. So as you travel down your own road in the coming week, watch for the little detours that tend to be inconvenient and try to approach them as opportunities. And if you’re a control freak like me, get over it. Face that fact that life is simply out of control ... so enjoy the ride.

Lost in St. Louis
Dear friend, I was just thinking of you
As we came in on final approach
To the scenic city of St. Louis
Here I sit in 9-D coach
Touch down and landing were flawless
We taxi safely up to the gate
Soon I’ll be on a connecting flight
And home, I can hardly wait
Something goes wrong at the ticket counter
The computer says that I don’t exist
So it won’t let me leave St. Louis
And I am powerless to resist
I changed airlines back in Tulsa
Where my flight was canceled there
But now the TWA computer
Indicates that I’m not anywhere
"But I’m here, I’m standing in front of you!
Take my pulse, read my lips, it’s me"
"I’m sorry sir, but you’re still in Tulsa"
She proclaims emphatically
So here I sit in St. Louis
Though, technically, I haven’t arrived
And until I do, they won’t let me leave
They claim I’m not me, but contrived
I’m stuck for good in St. Louis
Look me up if you ever pass through
It seems the only thing worse than flying
Is not being able to
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Weight of the World

Today I write about an issue which has surfaced on the peripheral of my own life. Both of my children are in college and experiencing entirely different life stages than I, along with all the excitement, freedom and fun which college offers. The flip side to all that freedom can be the consequences thereof. Along those lines, I learned this week of at least three young college women who have suddenly found themselves burdened with unplanned pregnancies. It is not my place or intention here to judge them, rather I wish to sympathize with the complexity of their situations and offer them hope. They have difficult decisions to make in the coming weeks, which I surely don’t envy them. However, all is not hopeless and there are a host of options for those who are open to their consideration. What I want to say to you, young ladies, is that you are not alone. You have friends and family. There are countless councilors to advise you and there is a God who loves you and cares for you. You may feel alone or abandoned. You may feel lost or hopeless, but take heart. This is not the end of the world and you have both time and choices yet to spare. Take a deep breath and be willing to lean on those who love you. This last weekend, while praying and pondering over these issues, I wrote the following poem just for you. Feel free to share this with others even email me at the above address. Just know that people care about you and you are going to get through all this. What is more, you never know what may even turn out to be the seeds of future blessing in your life.

The Weight of the World
Right now, you feel abandoned
As you’ve watched love turn to dust
Seen the blossom of it whither
And a friend betray your trust
Leaving you to bear a burden
Which was meant for two to share
Instead, you stand alone, it seems
In a world that doesn’t care
And yet, you know you’re not alone
Less than ever, don’t you see
Someone is counting on you
A new responsibility
Now you find you’re faced with choices
You never dreamed you’d have to make
Force to chart a course through life
Beyond an unforeseen mistake
Perhaps you’re overwhelmed just now
And can’t see past today
With the weight of the world upon you
It’s difficult to find the way
But there is wisdom to be found
In friends and family
There are places you can turn
For support and help, you’ll see
God’s love is all around you
His arms are open wide
And a simple prayer is all it takes
To draw Him to your side
In the hours and days and weeks to come
There will be moments of despair
But you can rise above them
With the help of those who care
For what seems hopeless at this moment
In the darkness of this day
Can prove the seeds of future blessing
Somewhere down along life’s way
By Frank Carpenter

Please Vote!

One final thought, America, and that is please get out and vote on Tuesday. At the heart of our beloved democracy is our right to vote. Each of us has a voice, but it can only be heard if we participate. Regardless of whether you dissagree with me, vote! Even if you think your candidate can't win or may win by a land slide, vote. Your opinion matters and when you are silent you abdicate your rights to the hands of others. You are America and your voice should be heard!

The Weight of Temptation

I shop-lifted this expression "the weight of temptation" from a recent sermon at our church because I felt it captured the human condition perfectly. We live in a fallen world. By that I mean a world created by God, but corrupted by sin. While there is much good in this world, and many good people, it is our lot to bear a burden of temptation. Without a doubt, we do plenty of "right" things. However, the temptation of "wrong things," of poor choices, remains ever at hand. For some folks each day can be a real battle to stay in the center of the narrow path of faithful obedience. This is especially true because we no longer have to go looking for temptation. The wonders of various modern media have enabled sin to come looking for us. First of all, there are many kinds of temptation, but I’ll just use sexual temptation because of it’s ubiquitous presence in our daily lives. Television and printed media flood our homes, billboards and radio advertising follow us to work and our email "in" boxes are jammed with elicit spam on a daily basis. Even those of us who make a concerted effort to dodge the influence of all this inappropriate material cannot avoid a least coming into contact with it. You have to see an image in order to know you should look away. You have to read the subject line of an email to know that you shouldn’t. That’s just how things work. Even if most temptations burn up like comets entering the atmosphere of our conscious thought, some of them will still sneak through and end up leaving craters in the surface of our lives. Unless one gives in entirely, there is always a tension on the peripheral of our interaction with the world around us because one who would be pure must remain constantly on his guard. That is the weight of temptation, and to circumvent its effect upon our daily lives requires a proactive approach to living. Those who would be honorable husbands and fathers, leaders and role models, have to go farther than just doing the right thing. We have to completely avoid the wrong thing. Like a ship traveling through reef-strewn waters, we must give any obstacle a wide berth lest an unforseen wind or current should cause us to drift dangerously close to those unforgiving hazzards. Temptation exists. That is a fact in this modern world, just as it was from the onset of recorded human existence. We have the choice, however, of controlling it instead of letting it control us. Become a student of your own heart and your own life so that you learn to admit your weaknesses and discover how best to protect yourself from them. Don’t let the weight of temptation get the best of any area of your one and only life. Fight the good fight and live a life that will bring honor not only to you, but to your loved ones and your God. Onward.

The Weight of Temptation
It’s always there in the background
The darkness which follows me
Like storm clouds on the horizon
It pursues me patiently
Biding time, it lies in wait
For moments of weakness and pride
Those demons of temptation
Who whisper to me, deep inside
Sometimes the weight of temptation
Threatens to crush my feeble heart
Choking the very breath from me
As its claws seek to tear me apart
The evil one who pursues me
Is a master of disguise
Who lures me, unsuspectingly
To the brink of compromise
So I must be ever wary
My vigilance cannot wane
Lest temptation should come knocking
With the pleasure that leads to pain
Lord, gird my heart with the armor
Of Your word and shield my life
That I may be true to You, oh God
True as well to my children and wife
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Face of God

Perhaps it’s time for another cowboy poem. I believe we humans were built to respond to the outdoors. There is something inherent in nature which reveals the ways and design of our creator. When we step outside, if we are willing, we have the opportunity to view the very face of God in His creation, or at least one of the faces of God. Certain groups of people have more access to the outdoors so this poem was written about the cowboy’s experience and lifestyle. However, you could insert camper, hiker, sailor, hunter, bird watcher, biker, runner, beach comber, star gazer, park wanderer, bench sitter ... the list goes on and on. The point is that the people who "get out there," even a little way, can witness the wonders of the creation. At home our view is of a hedge, and the neighbors are right on the other side of it. The office where I write even now has no windows at all. In fact, my dear wife bought me a painting of a window so that I could at least pretend to have a view. Most folks are like me and have very little contact with nature in the course of a normal day. Last night’s lunar eclipse, however, reminded me that natural wonders are never far from view if only we will take the time to look for them. And the almighty has revealed Himself through those natural wonders which He so painstakingly formed with His very hands. Psalm 19 reads, "The heavens declare the glory of the Lord." How true that is. We should never worship nature, but it can help point the way to He who is utterly worthy of our worship. Just step outside and try to view the world around you with an open heart. He’s out there.

The Face of God
Perhaps the cowboy's greatest pleasure
Is to see the world god made
In every light and every weather
That's one thing he'd never trade
There are moments of discomfort
Marked with heat and cold and wet
But they're a small price for the memory
Of a hundred red sunsets
Throughout his daily life
He gets to see the world unfold
And to hear the songs of nature
Songs a thousand ages old
In the whisper of the breezes
Through the mighty oaks and brush
The haughty crows in boisterous chorus
And the whippoorwill and thrush
The cowboy knows the clap of thunder
When it rents the evening air
And the laughter of the river
As it drifts without a care
He knows the scent of morning
When the day is crisp and new
And so full of life and gleaming
In its quilt of silver dew
He has shuddered, fraught with terror
Before the savage, raging beast
And stooped to mend the broken wing
Of the timid and the least
He has known the joys and sorrows
Of creation, face to face
Known its wrath and utter fury
And it's tenderest embrace
The almighty has revealed himself
In ways unique and odd
And the cowboy, who is willing
Sees the very face of god
By Frank Carpenter ©

Opposing Views

I hope that regular readers will not find it offensive if I diverge from my standard format because, surprising as it may seem, I have no poem to accompany today’s chosen subject so. Oblige me, if you will, as I swap my poet hat for the pundit one since I feel compelled to address an issue which is dear to my heart. Now, it cannot have escaped your attention that I am a staunch conservative. Yet, I have many friends who fall on both sides of the invisible political lines which currently divide popular thought in our country as next week’s presidential election draws near. Today, however, I have no intention of promoting my side of the issues. Rather, I wish to remind my fellow citizens how fortunate we are to have many sides to each issue and people who represent them. I have a very dear friend who generally stands on the opposite side of many political debates and isn’t shy about reminding me of it. In fact, I’m even willing to admit that she is better educated, better informed, better read, probably more intelligent and certainly more passionate about many of the current issues than I. We enjoy sparing politically and ribbing one another whenever the opportunity arises, but also respect each other’s positions. She tries to educate me, I fire back with the latest political cartoons from the internet ... and so it goes, with very little chance that either of us are likely to alter our positions. The wonderful thing, however, is that it’s OK for us to disagree. We have the amazing good fortune to live in a country where people are allowed to disagree, where every side of an issue can be wrestled over, lobbied for, argued about, and the like. But we must remember that there are still places in the world where, even in this modern and supposedly civilized new millennium, where voicing opposition on political issues can lead to persecution, prison, torture and even death. Not so in America. Regardless of our political persuasions, we should all pause to thank God that we live in a place where we are free to speak, vote, work and worship however and wherever we choose. Whatever its faults, this great experiment of democracy which our forefathers set in motion 228 years ago has stood the test of time and generally held true to its founding principles. We are a nation of individuals, bound together not by our sameness, but by our diversity ... a diversity of culture, race, religion and certainly opinion. That is part of what makes us strong and we must remember that our constant grappling together over the issues is what provides the checks and balances which guide us down the narrow middle line of majority of rule. Ours is a government of the people, by the people and for the people. Granted, those people will not always agree, but let us ever cherish and protect our right to disagree. While we have the utmost respect for one another, my friend and I will likely never agree on many political issues so next week we will each diligently and patriotically cancel out one another’s votes. That’s the way the system works, and the system really does work so don’t forget to cast your own vote next week as well. Otherwise, the friend you disagree with might tip the political scale in their own direction. By the way, don’t tell my friend ... but I actually think I’m right. Of course, chances are she’d say the same about me.

Refuge

This has been a week of thunderstorms and downpours, the first in many months in our area. Strangely, the worst of it always seems to come at night. Now, we have a rather old roof which is long overdue for replacement. Nonetheless, it still keeps the rain out and my dear wife and I love to lie in bed and listen to the rain pounding on the shingles above us. A few nights ago I was reminded of a particularly intense storm years past which had the whole family out of bed in the middle of the night watching the lightning together. Before the kids finally went back to bed we had some great conversations and one of them led to the metaphor of how God protects us from the storms of life, much like the roof on our home does. After everyone else had long since gone back to sleep I sat up and listened to the storm, eventually penning the following poem I share with you herein. The message for today, then, is that the storms in life generally can’t be prevented or avoided. However, God can be a roof and shield who protects us from the fury of the elements we encounter. Will there still be danger, and pain and suffering and even death? Yes, but God can keep those things from destroying us. He can even use them to work for good in our lives and often offer us an eternal perspective which helps the faithful to make sense of the storms raging around them. The rain will certainly fall and the wind will certainly blow for that is the nature of our existence. Yet, those who learn to trust in God have a refuge from the storm, a shelter and a fortress about them in times of trouble. My prayer today is that you may have the roof of God’s grace over your own life. It is freely available to any who will but ask Christ into their hearts and receive the grace which He so freely offers. Don’t get left out in the rain.

Refuge
Tonight the rain is beating
On the roof above my head
Until it's pounding leaves me wide awake
And awestruck in my bed
Then comes a wind and hail and howling
Such as I never can recall
But our little house is snug and warm
Protecting me from every squall
No matter how the torrents tumble
From the dark and stormy sky
The roof above withstands their force
And I stay warm and dry
So I find it with the grace of God
Which protects me from the night
And even through the darkest storm
Comforts me with holy light
Like the roof which shield me now
God's grace is over me
A barrier of truth and love
Built upon His sovereignty
No storm may come against me
That He cannot see me through
Though wood and stone surround me
How much more my God can do
So when the rain is falling
Though it chills me to the bone
I can resolutely stand my ground
For I do not stand alone
I stand with grace before me
And above me, I am bold
Secure that I'll not be abandoned
Or be left out in the cold
In grace I have a refuge
Even from the fiercest storm
God enfolds me in His loving arms
As He keeps me safe and warm
So as I lie here in the darkness
I know that I have naught to fear
For this roof and grace are over me
And my God is very near
By Frank Carpenter ©

Patriotism

Although I recently wrote on roughly the same subject, I feel compelled to refocus our attention on the brave Americans of our armed services around the globe. Certainly my primary hot spots are Iraq and Afghanistan, where we remain in conflict and the danger is greatest. I encourage all of us to keep the soldiers, as well as their families, in our daily prayers. Those two countries represent the front line in the war on terrorism. Even the liberals who strongly disagree with our involvement in Iraq are saying that it has become a haven and collection area for terrorists. If that is the case, then it is clearly is the right place to be fighting. I heard a great commentator say recently that if you have to fight terrorism it’s much better to play an away game. Let’s have the fight in Iraq, rather than New Jersey or Mississippi or Idaho. That works for me. Yes, there’s danger in Iraq and the fact is that our people on the ground might just be drawing fire away from the home front. Either way, it’s their job and they’re doing it well ... and on our behalf. For that, I for one am truly thankful. Nor let us forget our service people stationed in the rest of the world. Even is they aren’t in the action right now they are part of the solution. They provide a deterrent and stand ready to respond as the instruments of our policies and ideals worldwide. They’ve left their homes and families as well and we commend them for it. All our lofty speeches and flag waving are great, but our military remains at the heart of our national strength. A strong America is good for the whole world and we should never forget that. So remember the brave folks of our armed forces and show them due appreciation. If you know someone in the service, either at home or abroad, write them a letter and tell them you’re behind them ... because they are in front of you. May God bless America, and especially those who have so bravely chosen to defend it.

Patriotism
My patriotism has never been tested
Though I spout its rhetoric with ease
Waging the war of words from home
Just as courageous as you please
Yet, I am only able to do so
Because far better men than I
Are willing to fight for my freedom
Brave men, who could very well die
In defense of what I believe in
Of our beloved democracy
Theirs is the truest patriotism
They are the pride of the land of the free
And knowing that they are out there
In that desert, half a world away
Makes me proud to be an American
And more so than ever today
By Frank Carpenter ©

Companions

A brief message today to remind us all not to overlook the people we meet on the way through our journey in life. As we rush from here to there we come in contact with countless folks who offer the chance to interact. Bus stops, plane flights, athletic events, even elevators offer opportunities to interact with our fellow travelers. Perhaps the elevator rides are a little short to strike up a relationship, but most other venues are simply bursting with possibility. We had a young man from New Zealand staying with us this past week and found it fascinating to develop a friendship with someone from another country who has different views and experience than us. I also had the opportunity so spend time with a young Muslim woman from Turkey recently. Each of these young people taught me something about myself, their own country and the larger world we live in. However, my time with both of them was the result of simply being available to others, letting our lives be accessible. You just never know who God might send your way at any given time and it behooves us to think of our fellow humans not as props in our own personal dramas, but as important players themselves. We are all part of something much larger than ourselves. So as you rush through your own days this week, I encourage you to be sensitive to the other lives which intersect with your own. Strike up a conversation in the line at the bank. Eat lunch with a stranger instead of sitting at separate tables. Let down the draw bridge in the wall you have built around your own life and welcome others into it. Maybe God sent some of those people just because they needed you ... or perhaps because you needed them. You’ll never know unless you look up, smile and offer your hand in friendship. That’s how it all begins.

Companions
The journey is never lonely
As I travel on my way
On every leg, at every port
I find new friends each day
Who share the same experience
Have seen and done the same as I
So we fall in together naturally
To wile the hours as they pass by
Rare the journey where a friend cannot
Be found along the trail
To share a meal, a walk, a game
An adventure or a sail
For there are folks most everywhere
Who’d gladly pass the time of day
Sometimes the best part of a journey
Is folks we meet along the way
By Frank Carpenter ©

Making Each One Count

Today I dabble in the depths of my own hypocrisy, perhaps even more than usual. Sometimes we waste so many words to convey so little. This very web site is evidence to the prolific nature of my own writings. Whether or not folks want or need to hear it, I certainly have a great deal to say, arguably entirely too much at times. I was, however, at a conference some time ago where the speaker spent a long time (and a great many words) exhorting us to be far more frugal with our speech and writing. He wasn’t implying that we should be silent by any means, rather offering the observation that we simply say too much. I, for one, am clearly guilty on this point. Like so many of us, I blather on and on until the real point I wanted to make is lost entirely in the supporting arguments intended to prop it up. Often the better course would be that of succinctly and elegantly making our point and leaving it at that. I believe it was Mark Twain who once said that "No one was ever saved after the first ten minutes of a sermon." When we are nervous we use too many words. When we are angry we almost always use too many words. The next three weeks of presidential campaigning promise entirely too many words. Therefore, lest I further abuse the literary economy I struggle here to convey, let me encourage all of us to choose our words carefully and make each one count.

Making Each One Count
There is no shortage of words in me
I can spout them night and day
But volume does not equal value
Indeed, may cloak what we would say
There is strength found in economy
Choosing just the right words, and few
So much is lost in a dissertation
When a single sentence would do
Make each syllable count if you’re able
Choosing only the choicest words
Lest your message drown within itself
And go utterly unheard
By Frank Carpenter ©

Sanctuary

Our lives continue to be so busy. We rush from here to there, with hardly a moment for ourselves. Oh, we can keep it up for a while. In fact, many of us thrive on the activity. We gulp down a double-whatever caffeine product and away we go, turning our lives into some kind of productivity triathalon. Most folks, however, can’t really keep that pace up and certain things also seem to suffer along the way. Work gets in the way of our personal lives. Our personal lives get in the way of work. Precious time with kids, spouses and other loved ones begins to erode. Moments of spiritual reflection get tossed out the door. In time, the whole thing can fall apart like a car with no water in the radiator. One thing which seems to help, however, is learning how to schedule breaks in the action which allow us to recharge. They don’t even have to be long breaks. Something as simple as forcing ourselves to stop for lunch can make a big difference, especially if we can work in some meaningful thought time instead of just pounding down a burger on the run. Try just doodling on a napkin, writing a list of dreams or wishes, jotting down a few blessings in our lives, simply thinking about special people, or just pray a little. Maybe it’s not lunch, but some other time of the day or evening. As we scurry around, opportunities often present themselves to take a walk in a park or around the block. Many churches leave their doors unlocked all day, providing a quiet place to reflect. The world is full of little nooks and crannies which offer some modicum of sanctuary for a busy heart and a weary soul. If we can seek out such places in the course of our days, even for a few moments, the peace we discover there may be enough to carry us through. Our lives simply need a little margin. So make an effort to somehow jump off the treadmill for a break, however briefly, and let your heart and mind wander off task just a bit. You may be surprised at the difference if makes.

Sanctuary
Amidst the busy thoroughfares
Where the crowds of traffic rush
Quiet corners may still be found
Where the world seems to hush
Where the pressures and the problems
For a time, are kept at bay
And a weary soul finds refuge
From the troubles of the day
There are gardens, parks and churches
Benches, pews and shady trees
Solemn nooks of sanctuary
Which can put a heart at ease
Where the busy, the downtrodden
May pass an hour or two
Away from life’s distractions
To refresh, relax, renew
In those quiet moments
When we pause to think and pray
A soul finds sanctuary
From the storms of life each day
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Sculptor

I often get the impression that many people never even consider being different. They feel as though they are predisposed to think, act, speak and be a certain way, as if the cement of their lives has already been poured into the proverbial mold and they are simply waiting for it to set up. Is that how you feel? I certainly believe that each of is born with a specific package of gifts and talents, strengths and weaknesses. Those things make up the foundation of who we are, even where we begin, but they clearly do not determine our futures. The future, by definition, is that which has yet to happen. It is, therefore, entirely open to possibility. For today’s metaphorical offering, I turn to the hands of a sculptor. Our lives, at least our futures, are much like formless clay in the hands of a sculptor. Better yet, we are the sculptors of our lives. Each year, each month, each day is ours to shape. Many of us, however, are willing to settle for something less than a work of art. We complain about the clay of our clay of our lives. We doubt our own artistic talents. We think we lack perspective. Such wonderful excuses and certainly ones I have used with shocking regularity. However, each life has the potential to become a masterpiece, as does each day. The choice is up to us. We can make excuses. We can compromise. We can somehow abdicate responsibility for our actions. Or we can approach each day with a sculptor’s eye. We can make the choices that make a difference and carefully sculpt our existence into a thing of beauty. It’s not about money or privilege. It’s all about our hearts and how we will affect the lives of others. What will you do today? Will you settle for something less? Each of us wakes up in the morning with the same number of hours, the same number of fingers, roughly the same number of heart beats. What makes the difference is what we choose to do with them. When you wake up in the morning, even when you turn away from this screen, life will be laid out before you, waiting expectantly for your response, your guidance, your choice. Take a deep breath ... and make it a masterpiece.

The Sculptor
I am the sculptor
And every day
Begins as
A formless hunk of clay
I am free to shape it
As I please
I can waste it
or
Make it a masterpiece
By Frank Carpenter ©