A Sunset Gained

I have previously written about capturing and enjoying each of the moments in our lives and today that theme is all the more poignant. At this is very moment I am attending orientation and registration with our youngest child at the university of her choice. What an exciting time, with her preparing to move away from home and making choices which may impact the rest of her life. It's a wonderful long weekend to share with a child. However, it does bring us closer to the reality that she will soon be gone and our ability to influence her life may diminish significantly. Those emotions are compounded by the fact that she is the youngest and her departure will leave us in the proverbial empty nest. We're fine with that, but it still means change and the sunset of a twenty year life stage comprising the bulk of our married years, basically an emotional career change. To that end, today's literary metaphor refers to sunsets and how fleeting their beauty is. God puts such things in our lives and we only have the opportunity to enjoy them for a time before they slip beyond the horizon. If we let those opportunities slip past us, we often squander the blessings they offer. Each day is awash in moments of beauty and meaning, much like those sunrises and sunsets, and unless we pause to take them in they may be missed entirely. I encourage you to take a moment to enjoy the sunset today ... and think about all the other things in our lives which beg to be appreciated.

A Sunset Gained
How many sunsets have I missed
As I rushed from day to day
How many perfect moments squandered
Or forgotten along the way
All because I was just too busy
Taking care of everyone
While the sands of time slipped by
Like the rays of the setting sun
Which paint the sky with beauty
And wonder a moment or two
Then flee beyond the horizon
And another day is through
Today, I didn't miss the sunset
I observed each blessed shade
As it faded into evening
I watched and thought and prayed
And I realized I long for more
Of moments such as these
When I can let peace flourish
And take an hour or two at ease
By Frank Carpenter ©

Turning the Soil

Today's poem begins with the words "sometimes the heart within a man grows weary from his toil." I think that about sums it up. Folks just seem to get tired, worn down, worn out and so on. People in the workplace are over worked. Parents with children are over parented. Some single people grow weary of their singleness. Whatever our life stage, the rigors of daily life and work and traffic and relationships takes its toll on us and then we wake up one day feeling like we just don't care. That's when we're capable of just quitting, emotionally and spiritually, and when we are most vulnerable the counterfeits and vices that seem to make our boredom and frustration go away for a little while. All too often, however, those escapes come in the form of destructive behavior which can ruin many of the good things we do have in our lives. During those periods when we stop caring ourselves, we also get the idea that others don't care as either. Generally, that is not the case but God and friends and spouses and children and family just feel far away and we somehow get the idea that no one even wants to help. Those dark times clearly exist for all of us. They may grow out of one area of our lives, but often the cloud of darkness spreads over even the good parts of our existence. There is no simple cure when these times come to us, but clearly prayer is one thing that helps. Whenever I talk to such a person they seem to have stopped praying and they become blind to all the good that actually does surround them. Item two is thankfulness. All of a sudden, once we stop appreciating all that we have those same things somehow become grounds for resentment. God clearly is a friend to the broken hearted and if we can merely offer Him simple prayers of gratitude, and of submission, He can begin to turn us around. In short, we just have to try. Try to pray, try to love, try to focus beyond ourselves. That is how it begins. Even in the darkest hours, there may still be a rich harvest of blessings to discover if only we can find the faith to scatter a few seeds of hope. Give it a try.

Turning the Soil
Sometimes the heart within a man
grows weary from his toil
Hardened by the wind and rain
and sun, like barren soil
Where no seed of love or joy may sprout
since the roots can find no hold
And the precious metals trapped beneath
appear as fool's gold
Then, no matter how we scratch and dig
with the worn-out tools we own
They cannot pierce the barren ground
of a heart that's turned to stone
Yet, even such a man as this
if he will simply kneel and pray
Can find mercy in the eyes of God
and start anew today
For God can plow the hardest heart
He can turn the barren ground
And so reveal the fertile soil which
before, could not be found
God sows the tiny seeds of faith
He pulls the weeds of pride
And helps a life of purpose grow
where other crops have died
It matters not how desolate
a heart or soul appears
God's plow cuts a furrow
through the emptiness and fears
And once the lonely earth is turned
the top soil can be found
Which, all along, was trapped beneath
the barren desert ground
Then God takes the broken-hearted man
who's hope is at an end
And shows him how to work the soil
as a partner and a friend
God's eyes can see the harvest
where there is but thorns and stone
For with Him all things are possible
which seem impossible alone
It only takes a simple prayer
whispered from a broken heart
To unleash the love and power of God
and just a little faith to start
For God honors simple prayers of faith
from broken-hearted men
Then He turns the soil of barren hearts
and gives them hope again
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Walls of Jericho

There is a peculiar aspect of the American persona, a certain frontier mentality, which leads us to believe that we can overcome anything. All we have to do is hunker down and grit our teeth and mutter some kind of courageous statement, and things will eventually be alright. That’s a lovely thought, but it simple isn’t always the case. Sometimes we face obstacles in the form of disease, natural disasters and relational troubles which seem insurmountable, often they are. When we reach that kind of a wall in our lives, we can bang our heads against it until it destroys us, or we can look for other options. Those are the times when faith can be of great value. For people, certain things simply are impossible, but with God nothing is impossible. Some folks would call that a crutch, but I have seen and experienced the small miracles that are possible when God intervenes. And while the tough-guy-American-cowboy system comes naturally to us, why not call on the Lord of Hosts and Creator of the universe for assistance. He is a powerful ally and when God is for us who can be against us? I close with the immortal words of Forest Gump, “and that’s all I have to say about that.”

The Walls of Jericho
Fool that I am, time and again
I try to fight my battles alone
In vain, I struggle against my foes
Hurling myself into walls of stone
Yet, I am inadequate for the task
For the battlements near at hand
I haven’t the cunning, nor the strength
And so often fail to understand
That the battle belongs to God alone
His alone is the victory
And only the warrior of the Lord
Shall conquer triumphantly
How many times must I fail alone
How many wounds will I bear
Before I rely on the Lord of Hosts
And place myself under His care
If I will obey my Master’s commands
I know that His trumpet call
Will shake the foundations of our foes
And break down the mightiest wall
By Frank Carpenter ©

Do the Truth

We clearly have no shortage of knowledge. Americans are simply jammed full of information. We've been to school and Sunday school, we read books and magazines and newspapers, we watch the news, the Discovery Chanel, ESPN, you name it. Oh, we know a lot. However, much of what we know is peripheral information, the kind of things that help us sound interesting at parties allow us to explain to our children why the sky is blue or how electricity works. Nothing wrong with those things, but too much of what we know matters too little. All the learning in the world doesn't necessary make someone a better person unless they discover nuggets of truth which actually have an impact on their character and, therefore, upon their actions. Even the loftiest moral and doctrinal truths matter but little unless they are put into practice. It is the living out of knowledge, the application of wisdom, that changes a person ... and the world around him. The process always begins with knowing the truth, reading and understanding the subtle details of life and how they fit together. While I firmly believe that the physical and spiritual worlds are based upon certain absolute truths, from a practical standpoint I would propose that truth doesn't actually exist until it is lived. Lofty words and eloquent speeches amount to nothing more than so much hot air unless they are fleshed out with lofty and eloquent actions. It takes only a brain to speak the truth, but to do the truth requires a heart as well. That is the juncture where faith and courage come together with truth to change a person's life and cause him or her to make a difference in the world. By all means, let us hunger and thirst for knowledge, for it is the beginning of understanding. Ah, but once we hold the cords truth within our hands, may we have the courage live that truth out in our daily lives. Onward.

Do The Truth
Without a doubt, we know the truth
For truth is everywhere
And those who read the word of God
Have found more truth than they can bear
Yet, no matter how we fill our heads
With all that can be learned
Truth must be tested in the fires of life
And lived, once it's discerned
For anyone may know the truth
If he can read or hear
But he must learn to live it
From day to day, from year to year
Until then, the truth remains
Purely academic, don't you see
For only once we do the truth
Is it real to you and me
Our actions will betray our hearts
Each time a test is made
When truth professed, defers at last
To that which is displayed
Any man who seeks may find the truth
But once said truth is known
Only he who learns to do the truth
Can claim it as his own
By Frank Carpenter ©

Atrocities

For today’s poem, I dip my toe into the murky and controversial water of crimes against humanity. This is a subject about which most people seem passionate when it comes up, yet also a subject folks have a tendency to avoid. It has drifted back to the surface of my own consciousness of late due to some of the things going on in Iraq. When we think about atrocities, it’s usually the “big ones” like the genocide of jews by Nazi Germany. Even in more recent history, serious breaches have occurred in Africa and the Balkans, to name a few. Clearly, atrocities were committed in Iraq during the reign of Saddam Hussein, where torture and politically motivated murder were the daily fare. Let us also not forget that they used gas, a weapon of mass destruction, on their own Kurdish citizens in the north. A dear friend who served there in the Marines last year indicated that the mass graves and other brutalities discovered in Iraq make it clear that the regime had not fallen far short of Hitler’s in their and abuse of human life and rights. The attacks on September 11th, as well as other terrorist attacks on civilians during the past decade, also qualify as crimes against humanity, in my humble opinion. And now we have this new twist of kidnaping and publicly executing civilians for military purposes. While I clearly don’t condone it, I understand terrorists or militia attacking military targets and personnel. However, such a war of terror and brutality directly against civilians like this is, to me, unthinkable. It also crosses over the line into the atrocity category. Will we allow it to bend our will as it is intended to? May it never be! Rather, it should steel our collective will to overcome those who are willing to perpetrate such heinous and unforgivable acts, even against just one person. We must be willing, as a nation and as a people, to confront such people with the full force of our collective being and bring them to justice. How many times in history have we sighed deeply and said, “never again!” The world is now too small to allow such unthinkable actions to happen again and we cannot afford to turn our backs, or even turn the other cheek, when it comes to the perpetration of atrocities against our fellow human beings. No political or religious agenda justifies such activity, and no national or international borders should hide or protect human injustice or those who commit it. There simply is no other way. It may be time for the sleeping giant to awaken once again.

Atrocities
The inhumanity of humans
has plagued us through our history
We mighty, moral Homo Sapiens
with such a knack for cruelty
No matter how we train or educate
some leader rises from the throng
To perpetrate new crimes of hate
while the masses follow along
Somehow, accepting what is evil
and so clearly unacceptable
We are wooed, once more, to hate
and do what is unthinkable
We, who have evolved so far
and churched ourselves so well
Cast civil rights aside and opt
to be the very instruments of hell
Just like diseases which were wiped out
by vaccines we have made
So atrocities are laid to rest
until our memory of them fades
But when we cease to use the vaccine
diseases torment us again
So it is with human hatred
and within the hearts of men
Just when we think that we've snuffed out
what was evil and so wrong
It seems to rear its ugly head again
revitalized and just as strong
But it must not be swept beneath the rug
or white-washed in any way
And our crimes committed in the past
must be revealed still today
We must remember, we must understand
the potential of our hate
If we're to overcome our tendencies
before it is too late
In this modern world, where we
pride ourselves on civil liberties
We still allow someone, somewhere
to perpetrate atrocities
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Smallest Thing

My apologies to faithful readers for the silence of the past several days. My daughter’s high school graduation, the party afterwards, and the departure of my son for several months have been a little overwhelming and tiring. Through the course of those events I discovered hundreds of valuable moments, many of them “once in a life time” or “last time ever” moments and they needed to be lived with extra care. That got me thinking about how many small things in life slip right past us without ever being lived or appreciated. So it is with things in the natural world as well. There is beauty and perfection to be enjoyed in the smallest flower, even the most insignificant insect. Yet, we march right past them in the course or our busy lives, often even trampling them underfoot. The employee who occasionally tends the few unsightly shrubs in from of my office, on a whim, scattered a few flower seeds recently. During the past week or two, as they began to bloom, they have warmed my heart whenever I came and went through the front door. They are singularly unimpressive flowers, but they are unique in that we have never had flowers there in the many years I had an office at this location. Such little corners of beauty exist in every area of our lives. It may come in the form of my office flowers, the shape of a cloud, a surprising act of human kindness, the flight of a bird or a single smile. I believe God fills our lives with these small blessings and the appreciation thereof can bring a great deal of joy to the life of one with an open heart. Here’s wishing such joy in your own life ... may we all learn to slow down just a bit and notice the beauty in the smallest of things.

The Smallest Thing
There is a beauty in the smallest things
In their grace and simplicity
A wonder in the tiniest flower
To rival the mightiest tree
How much beauty we disregard
Or tread upon thoughtlessly
As we rush through this life we lead
Too busy to care ... or see
Lord, may I pause to focus
To admire the intricacy
Of all that surrounds me daily
As it presents itself to me
By Frank Carpenter ©

To Be Worthy

As I rush off to my daughter’s high school graduation today I offer a brief prayer in, the form of a poem, for all of us to live a life of excellence. In the book of Ephesians, the Apostle Paul opens chapter 4 with the following words: “Therefore I, the prisoner of the Lord, implore you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love...” Whatever your calling or credo, however you view God, may you walk in a manner that is consistent with your professed values. That sounds simple, but it can be a very difficult thing to do day in and day out. That same Apostle Paul indicates on several occasions in his writings how concerned he was that the activities of his life would be consistent with the words of his message. So it should be with us. Let us go forth, then, and endeavor to live lives which will show us worthy of our message. Have a great day ... and make it count.

To Be Worthy
May my words be thine, oh Lord
May my message point the way
For those who need to know you, Lord
And those who’ve gone astray
Give me patience, Lord, to listen
And eyes that strain to see
Grant me wisdom, Lord, to understand
What you reveal to me
May my hands reach out to serve you
Guide my feet upon the path
That you would have me follow, Lord
Turn me from the way of wrath
If I am to be your servant
Help me cast away the chaff
Which binds me to this weary world
Though others mock and laugh
Let my actions bring you honor
In this world of compromise
That I may be the messenger of truth
Amidst the ebbing tide of lies
Give me strength to stand for you, Lord
To fight the good and faithful fight
That in this world of darkness
I may shine your holy light
By Frank Carpenter ©

Stuff

So many of us live cluttered lives. Just for sport, trying taking the ten second clutter quiz: 1.) Do you park all of your cars in the garage? 2.) Do you pay for an off site storage unit for part of your personal possessions? 3.) If you were to install new carpet tomorrow, would it require a lot of re-stacking and organizing? The fact is that we Americans, so accustomed to prosperity and abundance, seem to take for granted the quantity of our processions, and the management thereof. We always seem to need the latest, greatest, new and improved, whatever just came on the market, thing-a-ma-jig. We are constantly on the upgrade quest, leaving a wake of perfectly good personal property in our wake. Each successive one, of course, becoming obsolete nearly as soon as we purchase it. The question one must occasionally ask himself is whether there is an acceptable saturation point or limit to what we need. Is there a point at which a reasonable person simple says, "enough." If there is not, then we must carefully consider whether our happiness is somehow subconsciously tied to an unquenchable pyramid of possessions. In the end, after all, it's only stuff and wise is the man who doesn't find himself needing too much. For happiness, true happiness, should well up from within a man or woman ... regardless of how well they are equipped. As silt clogs a river or plaque clogs an artery, so are possessions to the soul of a man.

Stuff
Have you ever stopped to notice
How we fill our lives with stuff
And no matter what I think I need
It's never quite enough
Once I reach the top and have it all
I think that I am through
Then technology advances
They come up with something new
And I know that I must have it
It's the thing I really need
So the shopping list expands again
As I strive to quench my greed
I flit from toy to gadget
Wanting each just like the rest
Better, newer, smarter, faster
I must own it, it's my quest
And as the object of my passion
Changes daily, soon I find
A pile of junk I wanted
In the wake I've left behind
My garage and room are piled high
With the things I used to need
Which now have been discarded
In the progression of my greed
Free market, no free lunch
I'm a consumer through and through
But beware of passing judgement
Since I'm, most likely, just like you
I've earned it, I can spend it
That's not so bad as you suppose
Besides, I'll be finally, truly happy
If I can just get one of those
By Frank Carpenter ©

Horizons

This is a very exciting week around our home. My son is temporarily home from college and my daughter, the youngest, is graduating from high school in a few days. As we prepare for that event, and the gathering we will host afterward, we have gone through all manor of photos and memorabilia. Such a wonderful milestone in the life of a family, yet mixed in with all the joy and drama, there looms the bittersweet fact that both of them will be gone well before the summer is out. Don't get me wrong, we are thrilled about our next stage of life. However, at this particular stage of the journey, we find ourselves looking both forward and back with more than a little nostalgia. As so oft may be the case, I find solace in a maritime metaphor. As our entire family looks towards the broad new horizons which lie ahead, and all the adventures they promise, we can't help but keep looking back upon those things familiar. So it is with any departure. The past is so much a part of us, even though we know how many amazing things lie ahead. My hope for you is that as you gaze both directions in your own life, you may be blessed to have so much to look forward to ... and to remember so very fondly.

Horizons
As I stand upon the fantail
Gazing at our wake astern
Recalling coves and ports and passages
Back there, for which I yearn
Knowing well our journey's end
Lies but a few short hours ahead
I ponder all we've seen and done
The sum of what was shared and said
I long to come about and
To retrace the course we've run
Rediscovering those places
Redoing what we left undone
Yet, they have slipped beyond my grasp
And into my memory
Such is the nature of this life
And passages at sea
I turn, slowly, from the taffrail
And wander forward, to the bow
Where new ports and passages await
Beyond that horizon now
Yet, I glance back across our quarter
Wistfully, just now and then
Recalling, fondly, ports astern
Shared with old and new-found friends
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Coral Street Pier

Today's offering, like it or not, will be a few thoughts on romance. My brother is getting married today, and that is a grand occasion. Furthermore, this day is also my 273rd monthaversery. (If you struggle with math, that's 23.75 years) So this seemed like a fitting time to encourage us all to cherish our relationships and keep working at them through all the seasons of life. A wedding day is certainly romantic. However, it takes a great deal of effort to keep the home fires burning brightly for 23, or 40 or 52, years. Lots of metaphors work here: the training of an athlete, the tending of a garden, the maintenance of a car, the care of a rosebush. The point is that we need to keep being unselfish and creative, even when we don't feel like it ... perhaps even when there might not be any quid quo pro in the area of reciprocation. The secret to loving someone is simply making the conscious choice to be the kind of person that you hope the other person will be. That's the good old "golden rule," and it's contagious. My best wishes today to my brother and his new bride, and a hope that each of us may discover the path to a happily ever after.

The Coral Street Pier
How many years now has it been
Since we stood on the Coral Street pier
How many memories have we shared
Since the ones that we shared here
Oh, how our lives have changed since then
Since that evening in June long ago
Marriage and children, family and friends
All the memories that we alone know
Tides rose and fell at the Coral Street pier
The summers and winters have flown
Oblivious to what started back here
And the happiness we have known
The warm breeze still blows down the bay as it did
Caressing the flags and the sails
The water still dances its dance with the shore
As it did when we leaned on these rails
There are fishermen here, on the Coral Street pier
And they get an occasional bite
But the luckiest man who caught anything here
Was me, on that long ago night
The sights and the sounds and the way that I feel
Haven't changed in a decade and more
But I still like to wander back here now and then
To make sure that it's just like before
Life has been good to us, I must admit
Bringing happiness year after year
Since that night when the stars were shining so bright
When we stood on the Coral Street pier
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Wild West

Today's offering is something a little different. While this is a poem I wrote about a particular moment with my young son, it captures a host of other moments that most of us parents have experienced. My reason for choosing it today, however, is that the passing of Ronald Reagan causes me to look back over his past and the western movies which made him so popular. There is a certain set of American ideals in which the "good guys" and "bad guys" are clearly delineated. The good guys wore white hats and always seemed to triumph at the end of the story. Reagan was one of those good guys and the type of heros he portrayed on screen spilled over into the public persona he took on during his political career. We need more good guys in the world. While this is something of a unusual tribute, it is also a reminder to all of us parents and grandparents to zealously watch over the role models we offer to our younger generation and what kind of character lessons they teach. As one hero rides off into the sunset of American history, may others rise who shall prove worthy of the legacy of their predecessors. Happy trails.

The Wild West
"Way back when ... when the west was wild,"
I'd begin, as I sat with my oldest child
On many a stormy winter night
In our favorite chair by the firelight
Then I'd weave a tale 'bout the days of old
Of Indian scouts and miner's gold
A tale of posses, stampedes and drought
That would always end with a big shoot-out
The good guy would win, like he always does
My son would ask, "Why?" I'd reply, "because ...
That's just the way it ought to be
And that's how the story sounds good to me."
And that always seemed to be enough
For he never bothered to call my bluff
We'd sit and watch the fire a while
Then he'd turn to me with the faintest smile
And timidly ask, "Could you tell one more?"
So I'd do a story like the one before
With wild horses and buffalo
And the code of the west and Geronimo
With sandstorms, thunder, a cattle drive
And posters that read, "Wanted dead or alive"
And the end we expected all along
Then I'd close with a soft, sad cowboy song
And my little man would nod to sleep
On my lap with his cowboy dreams to keep
So I'd stay and rock him there a while
With a heart content, and the faintest smile
For among my memories, those are the best
Just my boy and I ... and the wild west
By Frank Carpenter ©

Gems

We live in a world obsessed with movie stars and shiny cars and outward appearances. Let's face it, no matter what we say we are all concerned with external beauty. To make matters worse, the ever ubiquitous media constantly bombards us with supposedly ideal images which encourage folks to accepts clearly unreasonable expectations as the "norm" in many areas of our lives. We're told that real men and women should look like this and cars and houses and clothing should look like that. Then before we know it, we end up with a whole society suffering from an inferiority complex. In fact, external beauty does not make people happier. It doesn't make their marriages last longer. Nor does it prevent them from overdosing on drugs or committing suicide. Indeed, if Hollywood or the world of overpaid professional athletes is any indicator, the effect of physical perfection and fancy cars may be just the opposite. It sounds cliche, but real beauty is actually to be found on the inside. A beautiful heart and soul are what endear us to others in the long run. Those are the qualities that don't age or wear out. And in the end, those are the traits which endear us to God. Let us, therefore, be careful of our judgement based upon external beauty, which has a tendency to blind us to many of the more important traits in our fellow humans beings. Many a wonderful person appears as a diamond in the rough and wise is the man or woman who looks to the true gems hidden within ... where real and lasting beauty may be discovered by those who seek it.

Gems
In each of us there is a light
A spark divine and true
Trapped within our selfish lives
Just waiting to shine through
Like the priceless diamond hidden in
The stone beneath the earth
Which needs the miner and the cutter
To orchestrate it's birth
So it is with inner beauty
It lies waiting deep within
Like the diamond it stays trapped
Beneath our selfishness and sin
And no amount of exercise
Or cash or seminars
Can pierce the veil or change
The person who we really are
Real beauty can't be painted on
Or purchased or injected
And all our vain attempts, alas
Are lost and misdirected
For only God, who created us
Holds the power to unearth
The priceless gem within each soul
Waiting patiently for rebirth
But like a master diamond cutter
God takes each heart in the rough
Transforming it into a flawless gem
For He alone cares enough
To see the potential of our lives
In the light of eternity
God sees the masterpiece in each heart
And knows how to set it free
And once God uncovers the gems in us
We humbly realize
That the inner beauty was always there
God's love simply opened our eyes
By Frank Carpenter ©

Beneath the Dome

Today’s offering is a tribute to two political figures who had a significant impact upon my life. I actually wrote this poem sitting on the steps of the California State Capital, the dome I refer to being the dome of Capital Rotunda. It was on the evening of my father’s retirement party. My father, you see, was a California State Senator for two terms during the 1970s, after which he spent twenty years as a lobbyist in Sacramento. He was actually the Chairman of the Republican State Central Committee when the then Governor Reagan was first elected by the people of California. It was Reagan who appointed my father to the senate, after another legislator left office midterm, and later supported him in a special election. Without digressing, suffice it to say that this selfsame Capital that my father retired from was the very one where Ronald Reagan served during his tenure as Governor. Now the recently departed President Reagan will lie in state under the dome of the Rotunda in our nation’s capital for the remainder of this week. Both men loved the people and states they served, and were generally loved and respected by those whom they served ... and served with. I lost my own father recently and the death of President Reagan, his friend and colleague of old, makes my parting words from the Capital steps all the more poignant. The image that shall ever remain etched in my own mind from that moment is of Capital dome lit up against the evening sky, with large California and American flags flying in the foreground. The death of President Ronald Reagan, that beloved icon of democracy and idealism, comes as a great loss to us all. For me, the end of his particular era of uniquely American politics holds a double sting and is, therefore, even more bittersweet due to my own recent personal loss. To those two statesmen, the one I loved so well and the one so well loved by a grateful nation, I bid a fond farewell. As I quietly salute them, the chords of my own heart whisper one final refrain of taps.

Beneath the Dome
How many times have I climbed these steps
In the past thirty years and more
How many hours in these hallowed halls
Have I labored, a countless score
I have spent my life beneath this dome
Beyond these pillars of white
Serving the people and state I love
Fighting for what was right
Now, alas, my term must end
With the end of an era, it seems
As I turn to pursue a different life
And chase after different dreams
I gaze back wistfully, once again
At the Capital, lit up so bright
At the bear flag and the stars and stripes
Waving to me through the night
I’ll miss the rush of activity
And this place I have called my home
I’ll miss the friends who’ve meant so much
And my life beneath the dome
By Frank Carpenter ©

Keeping Vigil

Perhaps not everyone will be able to identify with today's offering, but it will be near to many of our hearts. Even as I write this a friend's father is undergoing open heart surgery, for the second time in a week. Having been through heart surgery, and other illnesses, with my own father I am no stranger to the unwelcome host of emotions their family is going through right now. It's a helpless feeling because there is little we can do, except to simply be there for our family or friends. We pray to God for strength and mercy. We look to the doctors for their skill and wisdom. Then there is nothing left but to keep vigil together and support one another. All the while our jobs and other responsibilities clamor for attention. Our children need us to be at home. We're tired, perhaps even very lonely. There are a hundred reasons to leave the hospital, all of them good ones. Yet, we know in our hearts that all we really have to give is our time. When we invest our precious time in those most difficult situations the results are intangible, yet they are also irreplaceable. Few have come through such dark hours, regardless of the results, wishing they had spent less time at the hospital. Whether we sit all night in the actual hospital room or support those who are out in the waiting room, the time is always well spent. And then there are no regrets. Perhaps you aren't going through any such things at this time, but we all know that the time will come when our own friends and loved ones will be in the hospital. Whether it's now or later, when the time does come take all of that time you need and do the right thing. Those hours and days can be a great strain on your life, but such opportunities, once squandered, can never be replaced. It will mean the world to those you care for and, at least someday, it may mean a great deal to you. Once again, I must remind us all that real love is spelled T.I.M.E. Use it wisely, and stop to care.

Keeping Vigil
I called all the friends and family
Prayed ‘till my knees were sore
Did all that was in my power to do
Until there was nothing more
But to just sit by your bedside
And to keep you company
With hopes it might help a little
Though I suspect it helps only me
Nothing left but watching and waiting
Nothing more that mortals can do
So we place you into His loving arms
With hopes God will pull you through
I have so many obligations
Which tug at my heart and mind
So many reasons to get back to work
They beckon, and yet, I find
That all those pressing obligations
Matter but little, suddenly
The din of their distant voices
Seems to loose its hold on me
As I resolve to keep my vigil
To watch, to wait and pray
There is nothing more pressing anymore
Than simply sitting with you today
By Frank Carpenter ©

Last Respects

As almost everyone will know by now, President Regan died over the weekend. Without belaboring this national loss with too much verbiage, I offer the following poem today as a tribute to a great leader and an icon of American democracy from the century so recently past.

Last Respects
We bid a farewell to our president
A statesman and a friend
Who led our country and our people
And whose life has reached an end
We bid a farewell to a diplomat
Who outstretched our nation's hand
To open dialogue with nations
That we did not understand
We bid farewell to our commander
Who guided us through war and strife
Whom we herald as a patriot
As we reflect upon his life
So let the honor guard come forth
To fire one more round
Let the bugler sound off taps
And fill us with that mournful sound
We come to bid a last farewell
To remember and to say
Good bye, old friend, you served us well
We honor you this day
By Frank Carpenter ©

Let it Begin With Me

Today, I thought we'd take a little hike down the relationship trail. The fact is that each of us is in relationships of various kinds and, being imperfect people, we are going to have occasional troubles in those relationships. I am of the opinion that most of those problems stem from pride and selfishness on the part of one or both parties involved. We draw lines in the sand, we back ourselves into corners like wounded animals, we embark on a war of silence. Invariably, both parties often reach a point where they both whisper under their breath, "I'll be dammed if I'm giving in first." That is the beginning of a whole host of troubles. However, no individual person can really change another. We can neither ask nor expect someone else to be different. To hope and plan otherwise is merely to set ourselves up for disappointment. What I have learned, though, is that while it's difficult to change other people, they tend to respond to changes I am willing to make to myself. Someone has to give in and take the first step in solving problems. That is not a concession of defeat, it takes far more courage to take that first step than to stand your ground. If we really care about someone, if we truly want to do the right thing, it always boils down to one important realization, "Let it begin with me." That is where love and honor begin, with our own hearts and our own pride. An emotional standoff only grows worse with time ... and it only gets better when someone cares enough to make it so.

Begin With Me
Whatever fills the air between us
Certainly can't be called speech
A deafening silence chokes us both
And presses our hearts out of reach
How did we get here? I'm not quite sure
And what are we going to do?
I'll be dammed if I'll give in first
I can stand it as long as you
I really can't stand it ... nor should you
This is not how love ought to be
However it started, whoever's at fault
Clearly, change must begin with me
It matters little what has transpired
Which brought us to where we are now
But someone has to take the first step
Someone has to start trying somehow
Lord, give me the strength to be the one
And take the responsibility
There is no such thing as silent love
Lord, let it begin with me
By Frank Carpenter ©

To Find His Voice

Each of us has something to share with the world. Some folks may be artists or writers, others are dreamers and visionaries. Some are gifted to serve people or take care of the young or the old. Some folks design or build. Each of us fits into the larger picture of humanity in his or her own special way. We have something to share, something to say, something to create, some legacy to leave. That is our voice, the message we communicate to the world. Many people are still searching for their voices, which is just fine, but we all have something to say, something unique to give. When we each share our talents, our message, our own voice, the world is a better place because of it. Like the many and varied sounds of individual instruments in an orchestra, so are the unique voices of our lives. And when each of us gives of ourselves and plays our best the result is a veritable symphony, a song of worship and thanksgiving to the creator and author of our individual giftedness. May you discover your own voice in the world and share it wholeheartedly.

To Find His Voice
As he journeys through this life
Each man must make a choice
He can follow the words of others
Or he can try to find his own voice
Untold wisdom was whispered before him
So much is discovered and known
The world is filled with well-worn paths
But some men must strike out on their own
To hear what has not been heard before
To see what has not been seen
To reap a harvest all his own
Discontent to merely glean
Some men were born to duplicate
While others are bound by fate
To bring their imaginations to life
And it is their destiny to create
They are the visionaries
Who willingly bare their souls
Through the mediums God gifted them
Their thoughts become tangible
Each man has something to say to the world
And his blessing, his honor, his choice
Will be how to discover, develop and use
The words of his own special voice
By Frank Carpenter ©

Faithfulness

A few days ago I wrote about pornography. For adults, I believe that is a part of the larger package of faithfulness. It's about being completely emotionally faithful to our spouses, our children, and our God. When we allow ourselves to be distracted or led astray by the things of this world we make compromises that wear down our love and commitment to those ideals and people we cherish most. Faithfulness runs far deeper than our outward actions. It begins with our words, our thoughts and our eyes. It is a battle which begins with the smallest of things. Like so many other slippery slopes, however, even the smallest of things can result in our tumbling headlong over a precipice of shadow. My thought for today, then, is that we should strive to be faithful in every corner of our lives. Those who question our convictions are eager to see us fall, and those whom we care most about are counting on us to be strong and overcome every manor of temptation. That is the tension that any man or woman of character must deal with on a daily, even an hourly basis. Let us be true to those things and people we cherish and make each day a testament to our faithful commitment. When we endeavor to achieve wholehearted faithfulness, the rewards are great for those who stay the course.

Faithfulness
There are two kinds of faithfulness
That make a heart beat true
The first is obvious enough
It is what we say and do
Yet deep beneath the surface
Of our smooth exterior
Another battle rages
For the Faithful and the pure
Where secret thoughts lay smoldering
And demons fan the flame
Of desires long forgotten
Which we thought we overcame
There, within the hearts of hearts
At the core of you and me
Another faithfulness is forged
Which only God can see
A faithfulness so deep and pure
No demon can devour
Or shake the loyalty it yields
Even in the darkest hour
But far too often actions cloak
The way we truly feel
We live a life of faithfulness
And others praise our zeal
Yet, unbeknown to all of them
Is the hate, the lust, the pride
Which festers deep within us
And we struggle so to hide
Masking them with good intentions
Of the very highest sort
While in our hearts we maim and kill
We frolic and cavort
But dreams and wishes left unchecked
Grow stronger by the day
Eroding moral character
And chipping it away
Until our judgement falters
And intoxicating lies
Cloud our vision and we stumble
To the brink of compromise
Where the faithful dare not tarry
For here their predecessors fell
Since often minds allowed to wander
Drag the body there as well
And once we become entangled
In the web temptation spins
The situation worsens
And unfaithfulness begins
For even if we catch ourselves
Before we go astray
Alas, we've done so in our hearts
And do so every day
So I propose that faithfulness
Goes beyond our outward deeds
For in the end the harvest
Will be traced back to the seeds
And only those who strive
To nurture purity within
Their hearts are truly faithful
For here faithfulness begins
And in the end our lives will show
What our hearts have always known
And those who've trusted in us
Will finally reap what we have sown
So now I strive for faithfulness
As I battle unseen foes
Who seek to rob me of it
In ways God only knows
But I realize that everything
I stand for is at stake
So I strengthen my resolve
For nothing less than Heaven's sake
For I fervently desire
To prove worthy of the trust
Of my God, my wife, my country
And I shall, I simply must
By Frank Carpenter ©