When Duty Calls

I believe it’s time to remind us all, once again, how much of a political issue the conflict in Iraq has become. Clearly, any war is a political issue, but it’s also intensely personal for a great many people and when their mission and accomplishments are derided for political purposes that degrades the heroic sacrifices of our brave men an women in arms. Now, I personally believe we are doing the right thing, and certainly the best we can, in our current armed conflict. Whether or not you agree with me, however, I still call on you to honor and support our people in uniform for doing the job they were trained to do as the instruments of this great nation. They put there lives on the line every day on my behalf, for which I am grateful. Don’t agree with the war? That is certainly your prerogative because we live in a free country. Let me remind you however that, in Afghanistan and Iraq (and many other nations), before the Americans came, voicing such an opinion would be considered grounds for torture and death. The fact is that we are not really at war with a country, but an ideology. The people who are currently killing Americans in Iraq are not Iraqi patriots. Many of them are from other countries, and they are often funded, staffed and supported by the same terrorist movements who not only funded and supported the 9-11 attacks, but who continue to openly threaten additional attacks on our home soil. We are talking about suicide bombers and kidnapers who cut peoples heads off on video to make their point. They murder civilians indiscriminately. These are terrorists and our soldiers in Iraq are on the front lines of the war on terrorism. Make no mistake about it. All these issues aside, though, we still have our people there and more are on the way. My cousin shipped over in August and another young man, who is extremely close to both of my children, will be leaving sometime next month. Needless to say, it’s a little personal to me. Yet, it’s still friends and second cousins for me so I can only imagine how much more difficult it must be for those who are sending their mothers and fathers and their own children into harm’s way. They are doing their duty, however, and those whom I have had contact with feel like they’re doing a job that must be done, and certainly the job they were trained for. Today’s poem is one I wrote last year for the family of one of my dearest friends, who was called up to active duty by the Marines and served in Iraq for the first six months of our initial conflict there. I went through the whole roller coaster of emotions with their family and, in my humble opinion, spouses and children are heros as well. Therefore, I have some firsthand knowledge of the sacrifices our brave men and women make to get the job done. They are deserving of our praise, our support, and most importantly our prayers. Ramble all you want about the war, the WMD’s, the UN, whatever your issues are, and I’d be happy to engage you thereon, but let us never forget that our folks are on the ground and in harm’s way and they deserve the same allegiance from us that they have so stalwartly demonstrated on our behalf. Duty called, and they responded. There is hardly anything more American than that ... and I, for one, am overwhelmed with pride and gratitude.

When Duty Calls
On the eve of departure, the brink of war
As I kiss my children goodbye
I reflect upon all the ones I love
And tears of sadness fill my eyes
But I am a soldier, I have been trained
To defend the freedoms of all
So when the order is given to deploy
I respond to duty’s call
Wherever they send me, I shall go
Whatever the task may be
I am the instrument of America
For the cause of liberty
Far from my home, and my family
Even half a world away
There shall I go, when duty calls
Any hour of any day
Because I believe in the principles
Of our beloved democracy
In the name of peace, I go to war
Both proudly and willingly
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Seed

Today’s poem is about patience and potential and words which gaze off into the hazy future. Actually, this is a children’s story I wrote a long time ago. Upon reviewing it, however, I discovered that it still held some valuable lessons for all of us. This is a story about one tiny seed and how it waits for the perfect time to grow. Turns out that my simple children’s story is about adults who are hunkered down and waiting for an opportunity, a someday they have been hoping for. It’s for children who feel like they are just small pawn in a grown up world and need a little hope that they may eventually be larger, in every sense of the word, and make a difference in that big wide world. Upon reflection, and utterly unrelated to my original intentions, I discover that this poem may also be about abortion. In the story my insignificant, and somewhat personified, seed begins essentially as an inanimate object, a spec lying dormant beneath a rock in the mountains. When the time is just right that seed sprouts and, in time, grows into a massive tree. The lesson is that even the smallest things are imbued with potential. A seed carries the genetic code of the mature living thing ... not only the hope, but the perfect possibility of life. It’s unclear when the seed becomes a tree and that is the beauty, the mystery, the miracle. That is how I find myself feeling about a human fetus. There’s just no saying when it ceases being a something and begins being a someone. God only knows, and I don’t mean that in merely the rhetorical sense. It’s a difficult thing to legislate morality and I actually believe that a woman should have rights over her own body. The only problem is that somewhere along the line, when that something becomes a someone, suddenly it is entitled to rights of its own. Just as in the seed, that perfect possibility exists in any fertilized egg and I’m not sure that we’re wise enough to draw a line somewhere and declare when it becomes a person. That beauty, that mystery, that miracle is beyond my full comprehension and I must, therefore, stand as the advocate of that miracle. Today’s commentary began with a completely different focus and ends with my being surprised and enlightened by my own words. No bible thumping today. No soap box speech. Just read my innocent little children’s story and see if it takes you there as well. And ... remember, no matter how small you may be, that the tiniest seed has the heart of a tree.

The Seed
Once upon a cold winter, down under the snow
On a mountain so high nothing ever could grow
Where the wind whipped and whistled in blizzards of white
And the only thing colder than day was the night
Way up on that mountain, tucked under a stone
There was one tiny seed, one seed, all alone
On that cold, lonely mountain where no one would go
The seed waited patiently, wanting to grow
It waited and waited as every seed should
Knowing someday the time would be right, yes it would
It waited through summers when rocks were parched dry
It waited beneath the clear blue mountain sky
It waited through winters so frozen and glum
When it seemed as if spring time never would come
But early one morning when the mountains were sunny
The seed sat up straight, it was feeling so funny
The waiting was over, the seed knew what to do
At last it was time and that tiny seed grew
At first it was just a small root and a sprout
But soon a few leaves and more roots had popped out
The seed grew and it grew from the spring to the fall
And before the snow came it was ten inches tall
But the winter was hard and the snow was so deep
That the seed couldn't grow, it was frozen in sleep
When spring time returned and snow melted away
The seed grew again and it grew every day
Until it wasn't a seed any more, not at all
It turned into a tree even though it was small
But year after year it grew and it grew
And soon it was taller than me or than you
It kept right on growing until it was full grown
And now it is making some seeds of it's own
So the seed has a lesson for us, one and all
That if you are patient, even though you are small
You can be something special and beautiful too
You may just have some waiting and growing to do
So, remember, no matter how small you may be
That the tiniest seed has the heart of a tree
By Frank Carpenter©

The Gap

Perhaps it’s a little too morbid for some people to think about their death, or their life in relation thereto. I wonder, though, if one’s life can actually be measured without their death being taken into consideration. Mind you, I don’t refer to the process of dying, but to how each person’s life looks once they are gone. However uncomfortable it may make you, it’s in my nature to reflect upon such things for some folks live what looks like amazing lives without leaving much of a legacy. You may climb mountains, invent velcro, set some kind of athletic record, or even discover a whole new solar system. Yet, if in the course of those pursuits, we leave a trail of divorce, deceit or compromise what have we really accomplished? If the events of our lives, however lauded or highly regarded or written about, are merely self-serving then perhaps we already have our reward in full. Pictures in the newspaper, even lofty words chiseled into stone, usually serve no greater purpose. As living creatures, we must realize that life is about the living and to make an impact is, therefore, to have affected other lives. We are also spiritual creatures and it makes sense that what is recorded in Heaven may be of far greater long term value than any report of our exploits here on earth. Our resumes tell the tale of what we have accomplished in life, but I fear they leave much of the story untold. In much the same way, the introductions given for famous people before they speak tout the tangibles of life while ignoring many of the precious intangibles. Perhaps our resumes should include how many times we’ve been married, whether we are estranged from our children or failed to pay child support, whether or not we call our mothers or failed our neighbors or stood by our friends through the most difficult times in their lives. If one is to truly make a mark in the world, it must be upon the hearts of individual people. In the end, that is the test of a life ... not how much strangers thought of our achievements, but how much love we showed to those whom God sent our way in life. That is the measure of a great man or women. It also means that each of us, regardless of our strength or speed or intelligence or musical ability, can still aspire to greatness and make a real difference in this world. Let us, therefore, live in such as way as to make our lives count.

The Gap
When I bid adieu to life
To all of it's travails
When my spirit passes on from here
And the memory of me pales
When the flowers from my funeral
Have long since been thrown away
And another person sits at my
Old desk each business day
When the relatives have flown home
When the violins are gone
Will there be any sign of me
Will my legacy live on
Was my contribution such that
I'll be missed throughout each day
Or will my memory, like my life
Just simply pass away
Will there be a gap where I once stood
Will anybody care
Was mine a vital, needed role
Or was I simply there?
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Stubborn Breed

The Stubborn Breed
Ranger Doug, lead singer of the trio Riders in the Sky, likes to open his show the words, "Well, mighty fine and a great big western howdy!" My sentiments exactly. Time is short for me today, but on the lighter and somewhat more nostalgic side I was thinking earlier of some of the folks I know who are spread out across the west, in places utterly unlike my current locality. I worked on a cattle ranch long ago and a part of my heart still tugs that way from time to time. So without further adieu, this one’s for Tailholt, Elko, Chico, Missoula, Genesee and all the buckaroos in between. We’ll see you on down the trail, saddle pals.

The Stubborn Breed
You can fence off every section line
And plow the tall grass under
You can butcher every longhorn steer
And choke the distant thunder
You can dry up every river bed
And every water hole
You can scorch the land with prairie fire
But you cannot take its soul
You can flood the ground and wash
The topsoil to the distant sea
Then roast it under endless drought
And chop down every tree
You can bury the dirt with concrete
You can chafe it with blowing sand
But you cannot break the cowboy
Or drive him from this land
No matter what cruel strangle hold
You may place on his domain
The cowboy will rise from the ashes
To dust himself off and ride again
From Tierra Del Fuego to arctic north
Mighty Miss' out to old Californ'
The cowboy survives, he is well and alive
In this land where his fathers were born
You can't break the spirit of his stubborn breed
You can't nudge him away from the trough
He'll ride the arroyo, the deserts and hills
Like the coyote, you can't kill him off
The cities may swell 'til they bust open wide
Civilization may smother the land
But as long as there's still two square inches of ground
You will find there is still a cowhand
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Narrow Path

Greetings, fellow travelers on the journey of life. There are many roads to choose from on that journey and they certainly are not all the same. Today I choose to write about one particular path, the narrow path of those who consider themselves faithful. This is not the easy path, nor perhaps the swiftest, and clearly not the path of least resistance. However, as believers we have a calling to take care and stay on the narrow path of obedience. We have so many options in this life and they call to us from every junction along the way. Some detours promise adventure, some prosperity, while others entice us with the promise of pleasure. However, a detour is just that, a divergence from the better path. We feel the draw, the almost magnetic pull upon our hearts from various directions. Yet, we must remain steadfast. We must remain true to our calling and our course, lest we compromise a safe arrival at our intended destination. Much as the Pilgrim in the book Pilgrim’s Progress, we must turn a deaf ear and a blind eye to the temptations which loom upon either side of our trail. Our heart of hearts must beat for God alone. Once we stray into the countryside along the road it can become extremely difficult to find our way again. Better to remain on the narrow path, whatever the cost, and remain true to our calling. It can seem like a long trip sometimes, but don’t lose heart. Just stay on that narrow path and know that, in the end, it will all be worth it.

The Narrow Path
Whatever is pure and holy, Lord
Help me to dwell on this
May I not heed the siren's song
Nor long to taste her kiss
Give me the strength to stand for You
Though I may stand alone
Not seeking the seat of honor here
But one before Your throne
Grant me a hunger for Your word
And eyes that would seek Your face
Laboring not for the treasures of earth
But those of a holier place
Lord, make a servant of this man
Who so easily strays from You
And shine Your light on the narrow path
That Your grace may guide me through
By Frank Carpenter ©

Of a Evenin'

A change in the wind during the past few days reminds me that summer is winding down. Last night, I even closed my bedroom window for perhaps the first time in a month. As a parting tribute to the long, lazy days of summer I offer the following poem, which I wrote while sitting on the porch of a country store in a small town. Anyone who grew up, or frequently visits, the smallest of rural communities has probably sat on a porch much the same as this one and bid farewell to many a summer day in much the same way. Folks just seem to congregate in such a place after work to toast the evening with a soft drink or an ice cold beer. Today’s poetic offering is for all of you who remember sharing those moments. It’s a perfect time to talk slowly, breath deeply, gossip just a little, and ponder the big questions of life. If you’ve been there, you will know just what I mean. I’ve been waxing entirely too serious lately ... so this one’s for warm evenings, old times, and the quiet place in each of our hearts reserved only for summer. Enjoy.

Of a Evenin’
I like to sit out of a evenin’
on the porch and watch the day
When the afternoon is fading
and has nearly slipped away
When the sultry summer air is hot
and feelin’ kinda thick
It’s a good time just to chew the fat
or whittle on a stick
Sip a root beer or a knee high
or some other soda pop
As I tip my hat to Mr. Sun
and watch him slowly drop
I like to catch up on the gossip
and the news that trickles down
Heard they shot a mountain lion
somewheres over south of town
Did Priscilla have her baby yet?
What’s the forecast, do you know?
Charlie, how are things in Greenville
did you catch the rodeo?
I like to sit out of a evenin’
do some thinkin’, rock a bit
It’s a good time for reflectin’
a good time to simply sit
And discuss the kind of questions
you can’t hardly even solve
But you like to ask them anyhow
as you watch the day dissolve
As the light gets on to fadin’
and silhouettes the hilltop trees
There’s a gentle sort of quiet
that drifts in upon the breeze
You hear it singin’ in the forest
and you feel it in your bones
A strength and stillness emanating
from the ancient mountain stones
Except for cattle lowin’ somewhere
there’s a welcome kinda hush
That reaches down inside you
makes it seem a crime to rush
There’s a moment when the night and day
get all mixed up and you know
That this life is worth the livin’
the mountains seem to tell you so
When you’re afraid to even take a breath
knowin’ it’ll break the spell
It’s the time to let God speak to you
and tell you all is well
And you believe Him ‘cause you understand
He made this moment just for you
The moment when the night begins ...
and the summer day is through
By Frank Carpenter ©

No Compromise

It certainly is no secret what I think and believe because I lay my heart out right here on a daily basis. The disadvantage, of course, to having a big mouth (or a big pen) is that my words are made readily available to test my own life against. I try, therefore, to write as sweetly as possible, knowing well the probability of having to eat many of my words on a regular basis. That’s the real litmus test in life though, isn’t it? We strive to manage our deeds and actions, in hope that they might live up to our words and beliefs. Most of us end up discovering a gap between the twain, some wider than others. The fact is that we make little compromises every day. We bend the rules a bit, we dabble in the gray areas, we dance along the edge of the abyss. No harm, no fowl right? Perhaps not. I daresay that every time we compromise there is a little harm done. Each of our actions, and thoughts, is like a tiny chip of stone which helps to shape our lives. The end product, the final sculpture, is the sum of all those tiny chips of stone ... and we never know which ones are the important ones, if indeed there are any unimportant ones. Much as wind and rain, rivers and tides, slowly erode the shape of the land, when we compromise we make a choice to erode some small part of ourselves. Then in a year, ten years, or fifty years we can end up with the Grand Canyon through some area of our lives. Woe to those who find themselves on the wrong side of it. Last night I was reminded of an old song by Keith Greene, also entitled No Compromise, which included the words, "Make my life a prayer to You, I want to do what You want me to, no empty words and no white lies, no token prayers, no compromise." Perhaps I even borrowed my original concept for today’s poem from that song. The point is that how we live matters and a person who would count himself or herself upright doesn’t have the luxury of compartmentalizing their lives. We can’t just toss our purported values out the window when we’re angry or when we drive, when we do our taxes or stand to make a greater profit. What we do in those situations is who we are. How we live is who we are, and stands as evidence to what we truly believe. In the last 24 hours I have twice heard people use the term "supposed Christians" in the context that those in question had, by their actions, discredited their professions of faith ... and, by implication, their God. (Who, by the way, deserves better!) Better that we should live lives unspoiled by compromise. Then when, one day, we stand before our Creator He may find reason to utter the sweetest words any being of free will could ever hope hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant." In closing, I admit wholeheartedly that none of us are perfect. However, the beginning of compromise is when we use that fact as an excuse. It should, rather, be taken as a challenge. Onward then.

No Compromise
Our final challenge, men of God
Though we be strong and wise
Is whether we can live a life
That's free of compromise
For vocations, vows and ministry
Yea, everything we do
Can be rendered ineffective
If we fail to follow through
With what we say that we believe
And live it out each day
In the end, the final acid test
Is what we do and say
Our promises and preaching
Are but ineffective lies
If we've not the staying power
To live free of compromise
The choices we make every day
Though seeming insignificant
Slowly shape our hearts and character
'Till they are strengthened or they're bent
Simple things like faith and honesty
Are tested daily by the fires
Of freedom, choice and vanity
As we fight to master our desires
So when our earthly days are through
And we look into God’s loving eyes
What greater tribute could we bring
Than a life unspoiled by compromise
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Spirit of Don Quixote

Last year when, for the first time, I saw the musical "Man of La Mancha" I found myself very moved by the story. For those of you unfamiliar with the story, it is set in Spain long after the time of knights and chivalry have been forgotten. The protagonist is an old man who lapses into delusions that he is the valiant knight Don Quixote on a noble quest. His faithful servant and friend humors the old man by playing along and they gallivant across the countryside in search of chivalrous deeds to perform. While the old man is clearly not in his right mind, and gets in to all sorts of trouble because of it, his lofty ideals, imbecilic innocence and misguided attempts at heroism begin to win your heart over and draw you into his story. In light of all that is happening around him, in the end you are left with the distinct impression that perhaps the delusional Don Quixote was actually the only same person in the story. Sometimes I think that’s how it is in the real world. If one strives always to do the right thing, to take the high moral road, it seems to make others uncomfortable. If he dreams too big or reaches too far, others write him off or fail to take him seriously. In what often seems an insane world, the sanest of people may be called crazy merely for failing to conform. The story of Don Quixote re-awoke something deep within me which many of us spend a lifetime working to suppress: the freedom to be different, the desire to be different and make a difference. So here’s to the Man of La Mancha. Read the book, see the movie or the play and I think you will agree. The world might just end up being a better place with a little more chivalry ... and maybe even the occasional noble quest.

The Spirit of Don Quixote
Last night, I met Don Quixote
As it were, for the very first time
Drawn into the depths of his story
I hung upon every line
He was but a fictional character
Indeed, not even in his right mind
But he was an idealist, a poet
With a spirit both noble and kind
Somewhere in his misguided innocence
Of which all he encountered made jest
Still there was virtue divine to be found
And I was caught up in his quest
For the impossible dream he imagined
I daresay is better by far
Then the sane and vain of this world
Who know not the unreachable star
I myself have been mocked and beaten
By this cynical world we share
‘Til the idealistic poet within me
Was driven full to the brink of despair
Perhaps better to be Don Quixote
Though mocked and regarded a fool
Better the noble quest to pursue
In this land where the naysayers rule
Let me be true to my calling
To duty, honor and all that is good
Clinging doggedly to my virtue
Though mistreated and misunderstood
Like the daring Man of La Mancha
Whatever his faults may be
An idealist, a poet, an honest man
May no less be said of me
By Frank Carpenter ©

Stay the Course

Finding our way through the journey of life can sometimes be a difficult task. Even if we determine exactly where we are and where we are headed, we still have to cross vast tracts of uncharted water. There will be countless storms and times of darkness which may confuse us, threatening to sink us altogether. Most folks just sail off blindly, hoping they’ll get lucky ... like Columbus. Some do. Others, however, never seem to find their way. Even those of us who think we know the way often find ourselves navigating with faulty instruments or upon flawed premises. Nonetheless, there is a sure way to navigate through this life, and beyond. God. The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The God of creation. The God who sacrificed His only son, Jesus, for all mankind. God can be found in the pages of the bible, the only accurate map available to assist us as we cross the uncharted waters of life. In the bible, we can discover the course to steer and God honors men and women who choose the right course and hold fast to it. Anchors aweigh, fellow travelers.

Stay the Course
How vast an ocean life can be
tossed by wind and wave
And many perish in its depths
though they be strong and brave
Whatever skills we may possess
our success we may negate
Unless we know the course to sail
and we can navigate
For those who know not where they are
nor where they wish to go
Will fail to reach the distant shore
and drift where winds may blow
Yet, those who have a compass
and who know the course to sail
If they hold firm upon their course
in time, they shall prevail
So it is with each who sails
upon the seas of life
He must have patience in the calms
and strength through storms of strife
Yet all is lost if, in the end
his navigation fails
And he is left upon the sea
to drown in his travails
But God has placed a compass
within the heart of every man
He gave the Bible as a map
to chart our travel plan
He gave the light of Christ to lead us
like a guiding star
So we can find the course to sail
no matter where we are
And if we orient the map
to the compass we possess
God reveals the heading to us
so we no longer have to guess
Then, if we are faithful
and we hold fast to the wheel
If we tarry not at isles of sin
whatever their appeal
If we trust the guiding star of Christ
and keep Him well in view
Then God will guide us safely
into port when we are through
Contrary winds and currents
may drive us towards the rocks and reefs
But if faithfully we steer and cling
to the helm of our beliefs
We shall reach our destination
by the strength and grace of He
Who calms the restless hearts of men
and rules the mighty sea
Through the lonely watches of the night
and storms of gale force
God honors men who steer by him
and who choose to stay the course
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Threads of History

Long ago, in a gift store, I found a brass plaque which read, "At this location, in the year 1847, nothing happened." I always thought that was terribly funny, but my dear wife was very clear on the point that we shouldn’t buy it and, if we did, it wouldn’t be hanging anywhere at our house. She is very wise, after all. And as we have meandered through life I’ve come to believe that something happened almost everywhere. For that reason, wherever I go I ask a few extra questions, drive down the side streets, visit the hokey little museum and the like. Most of the time there is something interesting to be learned, some anecdote to share and remember. Life is all about the details and knowing them just adds icing to the cake of our experience. We’ve all had a chance to study the "big history," which can be found in textbooks. However, I also enjoy the "small history," the obscure stories that add flavor to individual locations. That is what makes a place interesting, and all the more so if it turns out to be family history, etc. Now, I know that your family, much like my own, probably loathes stopping at historical markers along the highway. Yet, even little things like reading the names on the map or browsing a book on an area prior to visiting add a little something to every trip. No need to go far, though. There is plenty of history to be found right in your own back yard. Who knows, maybe something actually did happen right here in 1847 ... it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

The Threads of History
You can find a little history
Most anywhere you look
Not just in documentaries
Or dusty library books
Every small town has a hero
Or a story it can tell
Some relics still to be unearthed
A statue where soldiers fell
The site of an Indian massacre
Or where cavalry did the same
If we ask we may find the significance
Of most any location or name
Something interesting happened everywhere
And by taking the time to explore
We learn valuable lessons about the past
And leave more enriched than before
For what we are today and will become
Is a product of what we have been
And wise are the folks who look to the past
And are willing to take it all in
The world is larger than most of us know
And looks different to you than to me
But we can understand each other more
In the light of our history
Each race and each nation, each family and town
Has a history of it's own
Each block of information hewn
From a common human quarry of stone
And each is a piece in a puzzle which spans
Across time and around this big sphere
Which binds us together from there and then
And right up to now and here
There are lessons to learn from the past for today
To unlock if we search for the key
Treasures still to be found in any small town
Each a part of our history
By Frank Carpenter ©

More to come ...

Dear Readers,
I didn't update the site today because I wanted to keep my review of the program A QUESTION OF GOD on top until it airs tonight. I'll have more for you tomorrow.
Frank Carpenter

THE QUESTION OF GOD

Greetings, faithful readers. Today’s posting promises something entirely different for your perusal. I was recently contacted by a media promotion firm which offered the opportunity to pre-screen an upcoming religious television program for the purpose of reviewing it on this site. To that end, I’ removing my poet hat for a day and taking on the role of film critic. Interesting transition, don’t you think. The program in question is entitled, THE QUESTION OF GOD, the first part of which airs this Wednesday, the 15th on PBS. (9:00 PM) I have watched Part 1 of this series and found it to be fascinating. Before I go on, and rather than my simply plagiarizing the producers, let’s read what the show has to say for itself:

"THE QUESTION OF GOD
C.S. Lewis and Sigmund Freud, With Dr. Armand Nicholi
All over the world, people are asking the same questions: Why is there so much pain and suffering in the world? What does it mean to be happy? Is there such a thing as evil? Does God really exist? This September, through the brilliant minds and personal struggles of two of the most influential thinkers of the 20th century, PBS presents an emotional and intellectual journey into the meaning of life."

In my opinion, the program keeps its promise by contrasting the lives, experiences and faith/intellectual journeys of "Sigmund Freud, a lifelong critic of religious belief, and C.S. Lewis, a celebrated Oxford don, literary critic and perhaps this century’s most influential and popular proponent of faith based on reason." It follows each of their lives from the faith of childhood, through periods of great personal loss, and in the midst of both world wars in Europe. This is done with authentic film, photo and radio and newspaper clips, interviews with relevant historians and biographers and dramatizations by actors reciting from their own writings. The dramatizations include compelling visual recreations which helped to bring the story to life. All of this information is tied together with modern discussion groups led by Dr. Nicholi, a Harvard professor upon whose class and book of the same title the program is based.

From a strictly historical standpoint, the program is extremely valuable, as the lives of these two great intellectuals are entwined with critical moments of the 20th century. From a religious standpoint, I found the presentation and discussions to be unbiased and open minded, making the program relevant and enjoyable for the atheist, the agnostic, or those of faith. So often such a program is agenda-driven and leaves no wiggle room for those who disagree with its premise. THE QUESTION OF GOD, however, invites those an any persuasion share in the wisdom and eventual religious disposition of both Freud and Lewis. The study of how each responded to and dealt with grief in their lives was fascinating. However, what I found most interesting was the way in which the devastating wars of their eras helped to shape each of their world views and, subsequently, their religious views.

Mind you, this is by no means an action/adventure show. It is a serious documentary about a serious subject. However, I found they did and outstanding job of laying some of the most compelling questions regarding human existence onto the table and examining them through the minds and writings of some of the most gifted thinkers of this past century. If you are looking for answers, here’s a place to turn. If you think you have the answers and want to understand them better, it’s also a win. Bear in mind that I write from an evangelical background, but rarely have I seen both sides of THE QUESTION OF GOD so fairly represented on television. I call it a must watch ... and don’t forget invite a friend or two over because you’ll have lots to talk about afterwards. So remember, THE QUESTION OF GOD on Wednesdays, September 15-22 from 9:00-11:00 PM on PBS. Part 1 airs this week. You can also get additional information at: pbs.org/questionofgod, where discussion guides are also available.

Thanks for your valuable time and attention. Tomorrow I’ll return to my regular programing, but I felt this was important enough to call your attention to.
As iron sharpens iron, Frank Carpenter

One Dream

A recent sermon on marriage caught my attention with a perspective I hadn’t considered before. The pastor was explaining how couples who start out so happy end up miserable. One point that really struck me was his idea that couples start out with one dream of happiness together. Over time, however, some people begin drift in different directions and long for different dreams. When two people don’t share the same dream they begin to think and hope and plan away from each other, in stead of towards each other. The only way to truly save such a marriage is for a couple to rediscover a single dream which they can share, that they can work towards together. That dream can take many forms. It can be geographical, financial, spiritual, sexual, parental ... probably most of the above. Once they are on that same page, they can move forward. Marriage is, in a sense, much like a three-legged race. That’s the picnic game where two people race other teams with their inside legs tied together. If they work together, if they run as a team, then they can reach the finish line and win. However, if they fight one another and can’t get into step, then they end up on the ground and someone is even likely to get hurt. That’s how love works. It’s about two unique individuals who work together, who’s thoughts and actions compliment one another. Essentially, they share the same dream. Maybe that’s where you are right now and your dreams seem to have diverged somewhere along the way. Perhaps you’ve begun to look at other people, or their lives, and wonder, "Hey, maybe that would be better." It rarely is. We just need to reconsider our dreams, we need to dust them off and share them with one another and find a common ground where we can dream together once again. If we fought half as hard to save our marriages as we do to escape from them there would far less divorce in the world. That single dream you used to share is still worth fighting for, as are the dreams of other couples around us. I’m not sure if it was Winston Churchill or Tim Allen who said it, but I quote one of them when I say, "Never surrender, never give up." Never give up on that one dream you had back at the beginning ... and you will never regret it.

One Dream
Everyone starts with high hopes
When first they walk down the aisle
Each man and woman believes in love
And that carries them through a while
But in time the fairy tale bubble bursts
Amidst the pressures of daily life
The honeymoon ends, real life begins
Chipping away at a husband and wife
We all want to make our dreams come true
And when we marry we share a dream
Of living happily ever after
But that fades over time, it seems
Until one day we wake to discover
That we’re each chasing dreams of our own
Both dreaming in different directions
With each feeling more alone
Yet for marriage to last and flourish
We must discover a way
To graft our dreams to each other’s
A little more every day
To somehow make a single dream
A single hope we can share
One hope we can pray for together
About which each of us may care
For once we can dream together
With a single purpose and goal
At last, our dreams can really come true
With a future both bright and full
By Frank Carpenter ©

Character

Life has its ups and downs. In the end I think they must be about equal, but we certainly tend to dwell upon the downs. Some of those dark periods are mild. However, life throws us some real zingers from time to time and we often catch ourselves asking the big "why" questions. When great tragedy besets us, the answers to our whys can often be elusive. Nonetheless, good can come of almost any situation and, even though we can’t necessarily explain misfortune, we can certainly choose our response ... and grow through it. I have watched some folks endure dreadful circumstances which no one could ever wish upon another. Yet, I have also seen some beautiful results in the character and disposition of those who have come through the darkness in their lives. Do the ends justify the means? Often the means are not of our choosing, but we do have the opportunity to make the most of the ends. I am reminded of the first chapter of James where the New Testament writer exhorts us, "Dear brothers and sisters, whenever trouble comes your way, let it be an opportunity for joy. For when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be strong in character and ready for anything." (NLT) Which brings us to today’s literary offering, entitled Character. Sometimes life can be overwhelming, but once we get through those dark times we are almost always better people because of them. Let us, therefore, forge courageously onward.

Character
We've heard that good things come to those
who wait upon the Lord
But when tides turn against us
they are not easily ignored
We grow accustomed to our comfort
and we seem so self-assured
That when the walls of comfort crumble
it's not easily endured
We know that character is strengthened
as we brave the storms of life
But at what price are we willing
to build character through strife
How much agony is bearable
even by the stout of heart
Before our spirits wither
and our faith is ripped apart
When clouds of doubt descend
on us it gets difficult to see
The threads of hope we cling to
amidst our adversity
We are humbled by misfortune
we, who once were so esteemed
As we stumble under burdens
such as we never would have dreamed
Broken promises and contracts
rain down on us like hail stones
Broken hearts and homes and pride
chill us to our weary bones
And there, beneath the pile
crushed by the weight of what we've lost
With nothing left but character
we learn to pay the cost
We learn to grope through darkness
and to toil in the heat
We learn that character is found
just inches from defeat
Where fools and fortune hunters
wither in the barren ground
But the wise man grows in character
and fights back with strength new found
For any man can prosper
when his luck is running high
But it takes a man of character
to forge ahead when luck runs dry
To praise God instead of cursing
in the midst of trial and strife
To resist the lure of compromise
when he's fighting for his life
Our fate and circumstances
are not always ours to choose
Yet, in our own response to these
is where we win or lose
When the levy breaks and each man
finds the flood surrounding him
Some men are simply swept away
but others learn to swim
And there, within the waters
swirling in the trials of life
There is a boat called character
which offers buoyancy in strife
When at last the waters do recede
as it seems they always do
Comes the time for our reflection
on the ordeal we've been through
And those who boldly held their ground
who kept their deeds and motives pure
Will find, new forged within their hearts
the priceless gift of character
By Frank Carpenter ©

A Messy Message

It occurs to me that I have written extensively of late about transitional experiences related to my college age children. A great many of you, then, with younger kids (or nieces or nephews or grandchildren) may not have gotten your fair share. So here’s a little something for those with younger families around them. The fact is that us grownups can get plum worn out by the younger children in our lives sometimes. The mess gets to us, the noise gets to us, you have trouble even carving out a little time for yourselves. Oh, there’s a great deal of good. The total experience is extremely satisfying. However, when you’re in the trenches of child rearing every day you can lose perspective. Here’s a true story from my own life about a week when I was wearing thin and how the beauty of parenting finally got through to me. Enjoy, and be sure to pass this on to someone whom you know needs a little perspective as well.

A Messy Message
I worked late tonight, as I often do
My family had gone to bed
I came home to a very messy house
A sight I often dread
But I didn't feel that way tonight
Sometimes I like it this way
The dishes and toys tell tale of
A busy, but happy day
Homework laid out in the dining room
And crayons strewn on the floor
Lego dumped out in a giant pile
And art on the ice box door
How many times have I complained
Hum-bugging until I was blue
Barking orders for kids to clean their rooms
Supervising until they were through
How many times had I overlooked
The hours of creative play
That went into what seemed a mess to me
As I ordered it put away
How many dishes had gone unwashed
And laundry in hampers stayed
While the mother who loves my children so
Read them stories or just simply played
How many times had I judged my home
And the loved ones who dwell with me there
By the organization I expect
How often I'd been unfair
I pondered these things as I surveyed the mess
Just pausing to take it all in
And I realized, finally, what I'd overlooked
In mixing up blessings and sins
I must learn to remember while I'm hard at work
That my children and wife are here
And she's probably working as hard as I do
Our family is her career
So I sit on the floor amidst all the mess
And finding a crayon or two
I say to myself, "Oh well, when in Rome..."
Then I color a picture or two
By Frank Carpenter ©

No One Home

Well, today I find myself at my father’s house on our ranch in eastern Oklahoma. He passed away back in December and although we have visited the place a few times, we have still had the luxury of leaving things temporarily undisturbed. However, it has come time to sort through some of his personal belongings as well as tie up some of his affairs. It’s strange being back here in his house. Even though this is a place I have dearly loved and spent a great deal of time in, things just aren’t the same without his presence. In fact, they are totally different. Heirlooms and furniture which seemed so impressive and valuable have lost their luster entirely. I realize, finally, that it was only the man I cared about and not any of the stuff. So I return to this poem, which I wrote in this very house on the afternoon he died. It’s words still ring true and capture my feelings entirely. The moral of the story: stuff doesn’t really matter. It’s the people in our lives who have value. The trappings which surround them amount to little more than mere window dressing. When I get back home I will return with an entirely different perspective regarding our possessions and the people who share them. Stuff is only stuff, after all. Let us celebrate, rather, the lives we have to live and the people God blesses us with. In the end, we shall discover that only they mattered.

No One Home
I’m back, alone, at dad’s house
He died just this afternoon
How strange and empty it seems now
As I wander from room to room
I feel as if I’m looking for something
Some memento to latch on to
In hopes of staying connected
But it seems that none will do
This house, this dad museum
Filled with so many familiar things
Holds nothing with any promise
Of what I hoped that it would bring
It turns out that this big house
Along with all that it contains
Was just an appendage of its owner
Somehow, a part of his remains
Without him, they are lifeless
Their luster tarnished instantly
So, in the absence of my father
They have lost their majesty
Like a mirror with no person
To reflect, an empty slate
Which accentuates his passing
As if it too mourns his fate
And I realize that all the stuff
Means nothing without him
Like mere pictures in a scrapbook
Grown faded, cracked and dim
So I choose not to disturb the house
A sort of dad-shrine, if you will
And tiptoe upstairs to my bedroom
To leave it dark and quiet and still
And as I lie there in the darkness
Breathing in that sacred air
I imagine that he is downstairs
Reading in his favorite chair
By Frank Carpenter ©

Over-Commitment

Today, let’s talk about one of the most important words of all. It’s not a long or very fancy word, almost embarrassingly small. However, this word wields great power. The one I am speaking about is ... "no." Not the word you were expecting, huh? The fact is that we have a problem with saying no. Yes feels so good. It’s empowering, really. They needed me, I’m the one for the job, I can do it better. Everyone is so excited when we say yes. Why not, now they don’t have to do it. The problem is that in this hectic world many of us are actually doing far too much. Worse yet, we often get sucked into so many responsibilities that the most important ones are deprived of the attention they deserve. "Wait a minute," you protest, "I can squeeze it all in!" Of course you can ... today. Yet, when the crunch times come the pointless things demand as much effort as the loftiest and we’re loath to let people down. I’m the worst at this. If we really think we can do it all, let’s ask a few questions about our daily lives: Did I exercise today? Did I read my bible? How about quality time with kids or spouses. Was there time to pray, meditate or just think? Did I read a book? Was there only time for fast food? These are the kind of questions that look beyond just getting everything done. In a perfect world the quality of our lives may be more important than the quantity. Maybe, if you’re like me, you’ve been doing too much and a poor job on everything. Far too often I waste time precious time and effort on projects of only marginal value and don’t have anything left for the two or three items which are dearest to my heart. Am I hitting a nerve here? It’s OK, that just makes you normal. Remember, you do have a choice. It’s important to work hard, to volunteer, to participate, but perhaps we should all re-evaluate our priorities occasionally and adjust our commitments. That might do most of us a world of good. Don’t wait for the melt down. Just take a deep breath and repeat after me, "No, I don’t have to do it all." Good, now that’s a start. (Some of us may have to chant that a few extra times before it begins to sink in.)

Over-commitment
(The Lament of the Volunteer)
On the outside, all is roses
"Life is great! Hey, how about you?"
It seems that you can do it all
and, somehow, you get through
The job, the kids, the house, the church
with one hand behind your back
And still you volunteer for more
someone has to take the slack
You feel almost super-human
squeezing more from each new day
So much more than anyone else
but still you find a way
Then, one day, you feel it
deep inside you hear it snap
When one too many projects
has been dumped upon your lap
You ignore the early warning signs
and stumble deeper in the trap
So sure that if you once said "no"
there would be no one to fill the gap
The headaches and the stress set in
and begin to wear you down
You start to lose it on the little things
it seems as if you'll drown
You lash out at the puppet strings
proclaiming you have had enough
Discovering, too late, they were
the very strands which held you up
As you topple to the pavement
grasping at the empty air
In hope of finding something solid
for a hand hold, it's not there
Only when you lay upon the ground
staring blankly at the sky
Do you realize you built your life
upon the premise of a lie
You thought that you could do it all
they told you so, but told you wrong
You believed because you wanted to
and, in so doing, played along
But in the wisdom, dearly bought
which only hindsight brings
You realize you spread yourself
too thin on too many things
So the those that really mattered most
never got the effort they deserved
Because you wasted time and energy
on the other things you served
So as you piece your life together
with the wisdom you have found
Remember to prioritize
and leave some pieces on the ground
Just choose the people and the causes
which mean the most to you
Then you'll have the time to do them well
and the strength to see them through
By Frank Carpenter ©

Seaside Solace

Perhaps it’s just my season of life, but another friend lost his father this past week. Seems to be a lot of that happening in my extended sphere of acquaintance. Perhaps the loss of my own father nine months ago makes me more aware of such happenings or folks just seem eager to share the news with me since they know how well I can relate. Either way, we all have corners of grief in our lives ... from the loss of loved ones, from relationship problems, from all sorts of things. While life does go on, and it behooves us to do so as well, sometimes we need to take a little space and time in order to work through the intricacies of a loss. Each of us does so in a different way, and at varying paces, and I believe that one of the secrets to a happy life is learning how to deal fully with the sad parts of that life and grow through them. If you’ve read this site more than a few times, you have probably learned a few things about me. One would be that I use my writing to work through the difficult issues in life, including grief. It gives me an outlet to explore my feelings thoroughly, as well as share them with others. Somehow, the process of rethinking life and crafting it into poetry helps me to reach closure on a great many ethical, spiritual and emotional conundrums. You may also have noticed that I feel an unusual kinship with the sea which entwines, metaphorically, with many other parts of my life. Those points made, it probably comes as no surprise that the ocean would play some part in comforting my weary heart through a time of grief. We all develop places of refuge in our lives where we tend to flee when we are pensive. I am fond of the ocean. Some folks take a drive or a walk or simply flop in a favorite chair. These can be valuable tools in dealing with grief because they provide safe havens of comfort and security. So today I offer the following poem with a prayer that you may find such places of refuge in your own life to aid in the healing process. If you know someone who may benefit from these thoughts, please feel free to pass them on.

Seaside Solace
I brought my grief-stricken heart to the ocean
Back to my favorite of places once more
Carried it down to the water’s edge
And laid it gently upon the shore
To let the cool, cleansing sea
Begin to dissolve the plaque of despair
While the ageless motion of the waves
Washed away the silt of care
Letting the music of the surf
Flow through the deepest parts of me
Until solace ebbed within my heart
And sorrow drifted out to sea
By Frank Carpenter ©