Frankly Speaking

Grace Undeserved

2012-01-15T21:43:00.002-06:00

We all have people in our lives who need our help, and who need our grace. They could be people with large or small problems. They might be family members, friends, or even the strangers that God occasionally sends our way. One thing is always true though: if you care about people, if you put yourself out there, you are going to get hurt sometimes. Your heart will be broken, or at least bruised, and that is just a part of life. In fact, the more you care the more likely you are to be hurt because when we open up our hearts is when we are most vulnerable. And it’s easy to write people off, or to give up on them. In fact, when folks need us the most is when they are also most likely to offend us … and that is the challenge, dear friends.

As a Christian my example is Jesus, who showed me so much more grace than I could have ever deserved. His love for me, and for you by the way, has no basis whatsoever in my deserving it. Indeed, rather than being based upon any inherent value in me, His love is actually what gives me value. God could have given up on me. He could have written me off when I offended Him, and turned His back on me when I turned my back on Him. Instead He sent His Son to die for my sins and draw me into eternal relationship with Him. That is the meaning of grace, and one of the foundations of Christianity. This morning in church we sang a song entitled One Thing Remains, the chorus of which repeats the words, “Your love never fails, never gives up, never runs out on me.” That captures the spirit of grace beautifully, and that kind of love must, by nature, trickle down into our human relationships.

So what about those people in my life, the ones who need my help … and my grace? If I am the recipient of so much undeserved grace how can I possibly withhold it from others, especially when my love and grace may actually be, at least in part, the manifestation of God’s grace to them? I have to love them and offer them the kind of grace that I have received. So think about your own life. Who are you getting ready to write off or give up on? Better yet, who do you feel called to love and show grace to?

Here’s what I know for sure. I’ve received way more grace than I’ll ever be able to reciprocate. But I’m going to do my best and I call upon you to join me. Together, and with God’s help, we can change this hurting world.

Grace Undeserved

In a moment of frustration
I was ready to declare
“That’s it, I quit, let’s walk away
It just hurts too much to care”
But then God calmed my spirit
As He soothed me patiently
And I realized I can’t give up
Even when folks challenge me
Because my Lord and my example
Had the chance to walk away
He could have left me to my sins
And God knows where I’d be today
But He didn’t quit, He didn’t judge
He didn’t abandon me
Though I was utterly undeserving
Jesus still chose Calvary
So when I seem at wit’s end
With those I’m called to serve
I remember that the grace I’ve known
Was not what I deserve
So give me strength, oh Savior
And remind me constantly
That I must love as You loved
The ones entrusted to me
By Frank Carpenter ©

For more on this subject check out this previous blog entry as well: http://frankcarpenter.blogspot.com/2005/02/forgiveness

A New Beginning

2011-12-30T15:34:00.001-06:00

As we come to the brink of another new year, it’s a time to reflect upon the past and look forward to the future as well. If you had a great year then you’re probably hoping to maintain your momentum. Maybe 2011 fell below your expectations. If that’s the case, then a new year may hold the promise of a fresh start or a do-over. The wonderful thing about this life we live is that no one’s path is set in concrete, no destiny is yet determined, and every day offers the opportunity to change our course and adjust our sails. In that spirit, I offer the following essay as an encouragement to anyone who looks ahead to a different or brighter tomorrow. As I close I am reminded of a familiar chorus from the musical Annie which reminds us, “Tomorrow. Tomorrow. I love you, tomorrow. You’re only a day away.” That’s just what I was thinking.

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

May you have a blessed New Year ... and make it an even better one than the last.

God With Us

2011-12-22T18:22:00.002-06:00

One last thought before we get to Christmas weekend. There are a lot of distractions this time of year. But let us all remember that the root word of Christmas is Christ. That is what we celebrate. So here's my take on the Christmas story based upon one of the names Isaiah foretold for the Messaiah. Emmanuel means "God with us" and that is exactly what Christmas is about ... about God choosing to be with us, to love us, and ultimately to redeem us. Merry Christmas to all!

Emmanuel

For centuries, we were in darkness

And God seemed so far away

But, in compassion, He reached out

To the world on Christmas day

Keeping his promise to rescue us

And bless man through Abraham’s seed

God offered the olive branch of a Savior

Showing His faithfulness indeed

After four hundred years of silence

God chose to among us dwell

Clothing Himself in human flesh

As the long awaited Immanuel

That is really what Christmas means

Not presents or trees nor snow

But the mighty God of the universe

Reaching out to men below

Immanuel means “God with us”

As the prophet Isaiah foretold

And the angel in Joseph’s dream confirmed

The messiah God promised of old

Jesus was born and laid in the manger

So long ago and far away

But that was just the beginning

And He is with us still today

As the victorious, risen Savior

Whom the Christ child grew into

Sent to reconcile men to God

And, at last, make all things new

So when you celebrate your Christmas

We pray you remember well

How God sent His only Son to us

As our Savior, Immanuel

By Frank Carpenter

Days of Infamy

2011-12-07T18:15:00.003-06:00

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

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

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

FDR’s Speech to Congress on December 8, 1941: "Yesterday, Dec. 7, 1941 - a date which will live in infamy - the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan. The United States was at peace with that nation and, at the solicitation of Japan, was still in conversation with the government and its emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the Pacific.

Indeed, one hour after Japanese air squadrons had commenced bombing in Oahu, the Japanese ambassador to the United States and his colleagues delivered to the Secretary of State a formal reply to a recent American message. While this reply stated that it seemed useless to continue the existing diplomatic negotiations, it contained no threat or hint of war or armed attack. It will be recorded that the distance of Hawaii from Japan makes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned many days or even weeks ago. During the intervening time, the Japanese government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace. The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces. Very many American lives have been lost. In addition, American ships have been reported torpedoed on the high seas between San Francisco and Honolulu. Yesterday, the Japanese government also launched an attack against Malaya. Last night, Japanese forces attacked Hong Kong. Last night, Japanese forces attacked Guam. Last night, Japanese forces attacked the Philippine Islands. Last night, the Japanese attacked Wake Island. This morning, the Japanese attacked Midway Island.

Japan has, therefore, undertaken a surprise offensive extending throughout the Pacific area. The facts of yesterday speak for themselves. The people of the United States have already formed their opinions and well understand the implications to the very life and safety of our nation.

As commander in chief of the Army and Navy, I have directed that all measures be taken for our defense. Always will we remember the character of the onslaught against us. No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory. I believe I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost, but will make very certain that this form of treachery shall never endanger us again.

Hostilities exist. There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory and our interests are in grave danger. With confidence in our armed forces - with the unbounding determination of our people - we will gain the inevitable triumph - so help us God. I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, Dec. 7, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese empire."

From site: http://odur.let.rug.nl/~usa/P/fr32/speeches/ph.htm

Information

2011-12-05T09:51:00.001-06:00

I stumbled upon a quote recently from Albert Einstein which intrigued me: “Information is not knowledge.” This is a very profound statement by a man who was one of the great minds of the twentieth century and it got me thinking as well. I’m clearly not one of the great minds of either of the centuries I’ve lived in, but I had been pondering a similar subject of late. There is now so much information available to us, not just from books but also through our easy access to the nearly limitless data coffers of the internet. In fact, Einstein himself would probably be overwhelmed by how much we know … and can know. He missed the computer age by just a decade or two and the world has changed so much since then. However, I’m not here to sing the “aren’t we amazing” song. My interest today lies not in expounding our informational achievements, but in quantifying the value of the volume thereof. Especially in light of the advances in handheld wireless devices we have more information at our fingertips than we could previously even have imagined ... and we’re obsessed with it. The issue I see developing is that we seem to revel in accessing a broad spectrum of data, of facts, figures, news, opinion, history, gossip, technology, etc. However, I don’t always see it improving the quality of our lives, nor the value of our lives. This leads us to the next question. Fortunately, it was previously posed by someone more intelligent and articulate than me. The poet and critic T. S. Elliot once wrote, “Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?” Interestingly Elliot also died just a decade or two before the true computer age. Yet he, like Einstein, observed this phenomenon as early as the mid twentieth century. They both understood that just knowing things, and having access information, does not make us better as people, or as a society.

So for clarification, let me take Elliot’s wise words and condense them to a formula that Einstein may have appreciated:

INFORMATION ≠ KNOWLEDGE ≠ WISDOM
In the spirit of the information age I myself went to the internet in search of a way to express my train of thought. I found an article on foundationsmag.com that helped clarify the difference between these three words. “What is this elusive quality called wisdom? How do we get it? … let’s begin taking a look at the four levels of thinking.

The first level is data-simple facts and figures. Second we have information. Information is data that’s been collected and organized. It is a reference tool. Something we turn to when trying to create something else. The third is knowledge. This is information that we have digested and now understand. Organized as knowledge, the information we have collected is given context. The fourth and final level is wisdom. Today, wisdom has become for many, indistinguishable from knowledge. But they are two different things. Often, what we find touted as wisdom is simply opinion. Knowledge is not wisdom. There is a big difference. Wisdom is the proper use of knowledge. To be more precise, wisdom is knowledge that has been applied in a way that takes into account all its pertinent relationships and that is consistent with universal laws.”

That’s exactly what I meant to say. There is an undercurrent of belief that our technology, our education, and the sheer data we posses makes us somehow better than our predecessors or those in third world countries. I’m not so sure because sometimes it seems that we have become dependent upon information, requiring larger and more convenient doses to satisfy us. That’s why it is important to differentiate between information, knowledge and wisdom. We may have become more technologically advanced, but it’s not clear that we have advanced morally or ethically, that we have grown in wisdom or character or virtue. These are the real measurements of better people or an elevated society. Our access to unlimited information does provide tools for actually making us better people, but so often they are lost in such an expansive mine of data that it can be difficult to dig out the nuggets that are really worth finding. There are just too many distractions, and as is the case in so many areas of our lives the good and the interesting tend to distract us from the great and the truly valuable. Thus we become, in a sense, intellectually ADD.

So, my friends, I would encourage us all not merely to fill our minds, but to improve our minds, not to mention our hearts and souls. Consider what would actually make you a better person, a better husband, father, mother, friend or citizen. Too much information without purpose actually makes us shallower rather than deeper. Wise Solomon once wrote: “Blessed is the man who finds wisdom, the man who gains understanding.” (Proverbs 3:13) Those would be fine words to live by, and they shed encouraging light on this subject. The secret to life lies not in what we know, but how we know it … and what we do with it.

Have a Little Faith

2011-11-22T22:25:00.005-06:00

I had the pleasure and unique opportunity this afternoon to interview Brad Moore, president of Hallmark Hall of Fame Productions for the past twenty-nine years. We discussed their latest movie, Mitch Albom’s Have a Little Faith which premiers this Sunday, November 27, on the ABC Television Network. (9:00-11:00 ET) The movie is based upon Mitch Albom’s best-selling book of the same name, his first nonfiction work since Tuesdays With Morrie. Albom also wrote the screenplay and played a big part in the production. When I asked Brad what was so special about this film he replied, “It’s a wonderful story of redemption … a true story of regaining faith and overcoming cynicism.” That sounds to me like the kind of story we all need to hear. The synopsis from Albom’s web site seems to capture the beautiful dichotomy of this story best:

"Have a Little Faith begins with an unusual request: an 82-year-old rabbi from Albom’s old hometown asks him to deliver his eulogy. Feeling unworthy, Albom insists on understanding the man better, which throws him back into a world of faith he’d left years ago. Meanwhile, closer to his current home, Albom becomes involved with a Detroit pastor-a reformed drug dealer and convict-who preaches to the poor and homeless in a decaying church with a hole in its roof. Moving between their worlds, Christian and Jewish, African-American and white, impoverished and well-to-do, Mitch observes how these very different men employ faith similarly in fighting for survival: the older, suburban rabbi, embracing it as death approaches; the younger, inner-city pastor relying on it to keep himself and his church afloat. As America struggles with hard times and people turn more to their beliefs, Mitch and the two men of God explore issues that perplex modern man: how to endure when difficult things happen; what heaven is; intermarriage; forgiveness; doubting God; and the importance of faith in trying times … Have a Little Faith is a book about a life’s purpose; about losing belief and finding it again; about the divine spark inside us all. It is one man’s journey, but it is everyone’s story.”

This is just the kind of inspirational story we have come to expect from Hallmark Hall of Fame, but it’s also brought to life through an amazing all-star cast. Laurence Fishburne plays Henry Covington, a Detroit preacher who overcame a life of drugs and crime. Martin Landau is the aging New Jersey Rabbi, Albert Lewis, the spiritual and cultural counterpart to Covington. In the middle is Mitch Albom, played by Bradley Whitford. Covington’s wife, Annette is portrayed by Anika Noni Rose. There is every indication that the chemistry between these outstanding actors perfectly compliments Albom’s already very personal story in a way that gleans all the emotion and meaning from his original words. In the case of a writer as gifted as Albom that’s a very tall order to fill, but they definitely do.

In the words of Brad Moore, Have a Little Faith is “deeply moving … and very satisfying.” Brad’s excitement about this film was definitely contagious and I’m truly looking forward to seeing it this Sunday evening. I would encourage my readers to do the same. I believe it promises a welcome and insightful look at two relevant versions of faith that we should all understand better, but it is also a wonderful launching point for further and deeper conversations. That’s why it would be a good movie to watch with either friends or family. It offers something beyond mere entertainment value. The very title is intriguing to us, especially in these difficult times, and it promises some hope to people that they might discover something within themselves, or beyond themselves. Without a doubt many on either end of the religious spectrum will find some spiritual shortcomings or feel like they may have been underrepresented. But this isn’t a film about doctrine or about whose faith is the right one. It acknowledges a higher power in a way that can appeal to a broad audience. It’s a starting point to get your own intellectual, spiritual and emotion gears turning. That’s one of the reasons I believe it has so much value. Watch it with an open mind and an open heart. Then talk about it. Just as Mitch Albom finds himself in the middle, between two faiths, many people in our society find themselves in the middle as well. That’s a good starting place for anyone … so share it with someone.

It’s been a pleasure for me to learn about this inspirational story and the people involved in it. Many thanks to Brad Moore, of Hallmark Hall of Fame, for taking the time to speak with me this afternoon, and to Grace Hill Media for making that possible. Remember that Have a Little Faith airs this Sunday evening on ABC. Every once in a while a story comes along that tugs at our hearts, one that supports traditional values and challenges all of us to take our eyes off of ourselves for a few hours and to look up together. This is one of those stories. I could not think of a better way to close today than to simply encourage all of you to just … Have a Little Faith.

The Call of God

2011-11-19T11:48:00.011-06:00

Today I’d like to share a poem which I actually employed here once before, way back in 2004. But I came across a quote this week that re-framed the context of it for me. One of the things I enjoy about my poetry, and the written word in general, it that it has a long shelf life and God continually finds new uses for it. I had picked up the book “Wild at Heart” once again and opened to a page containing the following quote from Oswald Chambers:

“There comes the baffling call of God in our lives also. The call of God can never be stated explicitly, it is implicit. The call of God is like the call of the sea; no one hears it but the one who has the nature of the sea in him. It cannot be stated definitely what the call of God is to, because his call is to be in comradeship with himself for his own purposes, and the test is to believe that God knows what He is after.”

As my readers may know I have a clear affinity for the sea, or as Chambers so eloquently put it, “the nature of the sea” in me. So this quote speaks directly to my heart. I’m also reminded that we have a creative God who speaks to each man in a still small voice that is personalized to that man’s heart. In my case, God used the sea. But He might just as well speak to the engineer in practical terms, to the geologist through the physical world, or to the astronomer through the skies. Whoever we are, wherever we are, whatever we are going through, God speaks to us in a voice that our heart will best understand. Bible translators are committed to their work because they understand that God may speak most effectively to people in their native tongue. And God knows every language, not only the written and verbal languages of men, but the unwritten languages of the human heart as well. So if you seek to hear God listen to him in your unique areas of passion and openness. Most importantly though, listen for God and be open to His call. He is almost never silent. The problem is that we are far too often deaf.

So now I shall return to my own example. There was a time when I didn’t even believe there was a God. However, it was clear to me that something was going on because I understood that some of the people who professed to believe in him were different than other people I knew. So I sought them out. Yet, God understood that the only way to get through to me was to speak to me in the language of my heart. I have always loved the ocean and God wisely engaged that passion in order to engage me. The below poem explains to true story of my conversion and the creative and personal way in which God eventually got through to me.

I still try to be open to God’s calling, especially in this current season of my life. My question for each of you today is, “How is God speaking to you?” We need to continue listening for His voice, not merely with our ears, but with our hearts as well.

Out of the Depths
I feel so very small sometimes
when I look upon the sea
Imagining its vast expanse
its awesome power and majesty
The sea was my one first true love
and the thing that I adored
The wonder of it pierced my heart
and brought me to my Lord
For I would not believe in God
or trust that He could be
However those who claimed I should
sought to prevail upon me
Their arguments were well rehearsed
and true enough, I deemed
But I required something more
I lacked the key it seemed
Yet, God called upon His advocate
the mighty sea I loved so dear
Which softened up my heart in time
and sought to draw me near
How many times He called to me
as I sat upon the land
In a thundering voice I could not hear
but longed to understand
Countless nights I sat alone
and gazed across the sea
So unaware that every wave
was God's own call to me
Yet God wore down my disbelief
as ocean waves might do
And brought me to the moment when
my life-long search was through
He piloted my restless soul
to quiet waters and a quay
Where He came aboard my empty heart
and promised He would stay
And now, all these year later
I pause to look out on the swells
And thank God for the choice He brought me to
for it has served me well
I thank Him for the beauty
and the power of the sea
From which He chose to reach out
and take hold of such as me
May I ever gaze upon it and
in so doing, see His face
Rediscovering His majesty
and the wonder of His grace
By Frank Carpenter ©

To Live the Life

2011-11-14T01:55:00.001-06:00

We all have standards that we live by, or seek to live up to. Everyone believes in something, whether it’s God, people, a moral compass, or a commitment to some universal truths. According to whatever code we subscribe to, we tend to live in a certain manner. The interesting thing is that not everyone lives according to what they profess. I’m certainly not one to judge because I’m just as “human” as anyone else, but take a look at all the people you know and most of us fall short of our own words in some way. The other interesting thing about this line of thinking is that our lives actually tell, and sometimes even betray, what we actually believe. In other words, what we do provides the forensic evidence for examining what we say and what we believe. The best test of any credo is a life of living it.

I for one believe in God and desire, in the words of the Apostle Paul, “to live a life worthy of the calling to which I have been called.” I encourage you to take a serious look at what you say you believe and how it has proved out in your daily life. In the meantime I will take the liberty of offering my own credo in the form of the following poem.

To Live the Life
Lord, I want to live the life
Which you have called me to
To follow you wholeheartedly
Rather than just muddle through
Lord, I want to be your servant
Each moment of each day
And not just on Sunday mornings
Please, Lord, show me the way
To be true to you regardless
Of the cost that I must that must bear
To trust you with my future
To always love and care
Lord, teach me how to sacrifice
To worship and to pray
To be a shining light for you
In all I do and say
May I be a fragrant offering
Bringing glory, Lord, to you
For I desire to live the life
Which you have called me to
By Frank Carpenter ©

Simple Pleasures

2011-10-18T00:07:00.001-05:00

In our modern world of lightening communication, high definition video, and immediate gratification we have become accustomed to a host of stimuli which were unknown only a couple of decades ago. Now we tend to build up a resistance to entertainment, requiring ever-increasing does of it to satisfy us. Such pleasures increasingly fall prey to the law of diminishing returns. But when we step back and survey the true pleasures in life they still turn out to be the simple ones. While we may be temporarily wowed by our own creations, in the end most of us respond best to those things which we did not create. It’s been my good fortune to spend some extended time out of doors in recent weeks, which has enabled me to rediscover my own response to beauty and nature. During that time my life has also been very relational, reminding me how much I enjoy the company of others. I have, in short, reconnected with the simple pleasures in my life, the responsive joy which I believe is inherently a part of our identity. There’s just no telling what you may discover if you can just turn off the television, disconnect the computer, power down the cell phone, and simply get outdoors. Whether your backdrop is the ocean, the mountains, the desert, the plains, or even the tiny park at the end of the street, something special awaits you there. You don’t need a grand adventure with a bunch of equipment. You don’t need to take a week’s vacation. You just need to step outside without an agenda. Watch the sunset, smell some flowers, take a walk on the beach, or just observe a tree swaying in the breeze. And if you can share the experience with some like-minded person then all the better. The point is to break the monotony, turn off the electronics, and live a little differently … even if it’s only for a short time.

We often grow so accustomed to being entertained that we lose track of just being. So take a weekend, a day, an hour, a moment. Take some time to live, and look for some of the simple pleasures in life, I guarantee that you won’t be disappointed.

Simple Pleasures
When I survey my daily life
I find the simplest of things
Are what matter to me most of all
And the greatest pleasure bring
The morning sun upon my face
The song of birds nearby
The trees which dance upon the breeze
Every moment, a small surprise
The countless blessings on my path
Which greet me all the while
The quiet feeling deep within
That wells into a smile
Life is dotted with experience
And there are moments grand and fine
But the simple things that touch my heart
Bring a sense of the divine
By Frank Carpenter ©

Change & Growth

2011-06-24T13:53:00.004-05:00

My granddaughter just turned one this past weekend. As I’ve observed her over the recent months I never cease to be amazed at how she quickly she grows and changes. In fact, at her age change is the norm. She recently learned to walk, she has babbled her first words, and she is absorbing life like a cute little sponge. For her, literally everything is new and fascinating and exciting. All of this has gotten me thinking about how different our “adult” lives are from hers. Obviously we all stop growing taller at some point, but somewhere along the way many people also reach an age of equilibrium where they stop growing intellectually and emotionally as well. We settle down, get comfortable, and begin to shun change. This can be a dangerous thing, for once our hearts and minds become less pliable they begin to atrophy. In short, we remain the same. In my opinion this has at least the perceived effect of aging us. Another interesting side-effect of this common condition is that we begin to judge others who may choose not to stay the same as us. That is a defense mechanism which helps to justify our own position. Is this who we wish to be? When I was in the middle of writing this, I stumbled across the following thoughts in Sarah Young’s devotional: “Without any conscious awareness, they make their habitual responses. People who live this way find a dullness creeping into their lives. They sleepwalk through their days, following well-worn paths of routine. God, the Creator of the universe, is the most creative Being imaginable. He will not leave you circling in deeply rutted paths. Instead, He will lead you along fresh trails of adventure, revealing to you things you did not know.” What a great perspective.

Newton’s first law of motion states that a body in rest tends to stay at rest, and a body in motion tends to stay in motion. Do we want to stay at rest, or in motion? Stability and security are a comfort, but they can also put us into bondage as we fight to main maintain and protect them. I, for one, desire something more. One of my grown children mentioned a while back that I was very predictable. It may even have been intended as a compliment, but I want to be just a bit unpredictable. I want to be interesting. Why not be adventurous once in a while? I’ve always appreciated C.S. Lewis’ description of the lion, Aslon. “Is he safe? No … but he is good.” That offers some food for thought because we are entirely too safe. I earnestly desire my character, faith and integrity to be consistent. However, my goal is for those qualities to manifest themselves creatively and dynamically so that they provide inspiration rather than justifying a rut.

What do you want for your own life? Are you too predictable? Do you want to be? I, for one, desire something more than a steady, quite suburban life. We need to keep changing and growing and responding. Let us not put down the roots of comfort and complacency so deeply that we become as immovable trees. We should never consider ourselves as done or complete. Each life is a work in progress. Each person is also a work in progress. So, like my granddaughter, we need to let go, lean forward, and see where our feet take us. That is what life if all about.

Memorial Day

2011-05-28T09:41:00.001-05:00

This weekend is Memorial Day. This is the day each year when we, as a nation, celebrate the mortal sacrifices of our service men and women who have lost their lives in defense of this great nation. The exact origin of this tradition remains a little unclear, but it certainly grew out of the Civil War and some type of official celebration began shortly thereafter. At first it was Decoration Day, when the graves of fallen soldiers were decorated to honor them. Then it seems to have grown from there. For those of you interested in such history, I have pasted below what seems to be the actual history of Memorial Day for your further reading. At this time, however, I only wish to encourage any who read these words to remember those who have paid the ultimate price for the freedoms we all enjoy. Remember, also, that brave American men and women are out their risking their lives at this very moment on our behalf. I will not here endeavor to engage anyone on the politics of our current conflicts overseas, except to state our countrymen have died there and continue to live in harm’s way so they, both the living and the dead, deserve all of our honor, respect and support. Today is the day to hang up your flag, to say a prayer, perhaps even make a phone call or write a letter to those who have lost loved ones … or live daily with the fear thereof. Please don’t let this day pass without some act or thought of patriotism and gratitude. To that end, I offer the following poem in honor of those who paid the ultimate price for this great nation and our personal liberties.

Song of Freedom
Still ringing are the battle cries
Of freedom from the past
Sung out by brave young men who spilled
Their blood and breathed their last
Still waving is the flag
They proudly served and held aloft
Yet, we must be ever wary
Lest our resolve grows dim and soft
Our children need to know the legacy
Of freedom which is theirs
As the gauntlet passes on to them
For they are freedom's heirs
Sons and daughters of a liberty
Which was born of trial and strife
Paid for dearly by the countless men
Who gave both limb and life
We must keep the fire burning
May we never let it die
So our children's children's children
Know the sound of freedom's cry
It's not enough to just be born here
We have to guard our liberty
And pass it on so generations
In the future will be free
By Frank Carpenter ©

Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day, is a day of remembrance for those who have died in our nation's service. There are many stories as to its actual beginnings, with over two dozen cities and towns laying claim to being the birthplace of Memorial Day. There is also evidence that organized women's groups in the South were decorating graves before the end of the Civil War: a hymn published in 1867, "Kneel Where Our Loves are Sleeping" by Nella L. Sweet carried the dedication "To The Ladies of the South who are Decorating the Graves of the Confederate Dead" (Source: Duke University's Historic American Sheet Music, 1850-1920). While Waterloo N.Y. was officially declared the birthplace of Memorial Day by President Lyndon Johnson in May 1966, it's difficult to prove conclusively the origins of the day. It is more likely that it had many separate beginnings; each of those towns and every planned or spontaneous gathering of people to honor the war dead in the 1860's tapped into the general human need to honor our dead, each contributed honorably to the growing movement that culminated in Gen Logan giving his official proclamation in 1868. It is not important who was the very first, what is important is that Memorial Day was established. Memorial Day is not about division. It is about reconciliation; it is about coming together to honor those who gave their all.

Memorial Day was officially proclaimed on 5 May 1868 by General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, in his General Order No. 11, and was first observed on 30 May 1868, when flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery. The first state to officially recognize the holiday was New York in 1873. By 1890 it was recognized by all of the northern states. The South refused to acknowledge the day, honoring their dead on separate days until after World War I (when the holiday changed from honoring just those who died fighting in the Civil War to honoring Americans who died fighting in any war). It is now celebrated in almost every State on the last Monday in May (passed by Congress with the National Holiday Act of 1971 (P.L. 90 - 363) to ensure a three day weekend for Federal holidays), though several southern states have an additional separate day for honoring the Confederate war dead: January 19 in Texas, April 26 in Alabama, Florida, Georgia, and Mississippi; May 10 in South Carolina; and June 3 (Jefferson Davis' birthday) in Louisiana and Tennessee.

Traditional observance of Memorial day has diminished over the years. Many Americans nowadays have forgotten the meaning and traditions of Memorial Day. At many cemeteries, the graves of the fallen are increasingly ignored, neglected. Most people no longer remember the proper flag etiquette for the day. While there are towns and cities that still hold Memorial Day parades, many have not held a parade in decades. Some people think the day is for honoring any and all dead, and not just those fallen in service to our country.

Information from : http://www.usmemorialday.org/backgrnd.html

Finishing Well

2011-05-10T07:58:00.001-05:00

There is a tendency among people, especially men, to grow sour in their later years. We’ve all seen it, experienced it. This tendency comes on slowly, almost imperceptivity, then one day we suddenly notice how patience wears thin, criticism loses it constructiveness, and humor begins to bite more. The years should make us better, wiser, and more patient and more appreciative. Time should soften and improve us like a fine wine. In many cases the years do have this effect. Yet far too often we come across those who become embittered and emotionally burdensome, just when they have the experience and leisure to be the greatest blessing. And that’s what it’s all about, really. We want to love people and be loved by them. We want to leave a positive legacy for our families. Why then do so many squander the opportunity to set up as the mature fount of wisdom, the experienced confidant, and the spiritual mentor? It’s difficult to understand, because I would think that one of the loftiest goals in life should be to finish well. By this I don’t mean dying well, but living well.

Finishing well is the ultimate confirmation of a life well-lived, the litmus test of all we have professed during the previous decades. I must here clarify that I’m not speaking about money. Although these principles definitely apply thereto, finishing well financially is always subordinate in importance to the other areas of life … especially if significant sacrifices were made in order to attain a strong financial finish. In the end the comfort and security that wealth at least promises is but chaff in comparison to relational and character considerations. To me, finishing well is all about relationships: with friends, with family, with our community, and with God. Maintaining healthy relationships in each of those spheres is an indication that we understand what is truly important in life and we have sought to cultivate it. Sadly, many folks don’t think about this and turn slowly inward as their years progress, becoming ever more selfish and myopic. In time they become the aunts and uncles, parents, grandparents and friends who complain that no one ever comes to visit them. Even some people who were gregarious and generous with themselves in middle age far too often grow otherwise later on.

However, this does not have to be so. We can make choices all through our lives to keep from growing sour so that our later years can still be the most meaningful years of our lives, not only for us but also for those we care about. Even at fifty, I’ve been engaging my own friends and family members on this subject for a number of years. My plan is that if we are discussing our desire not to grow sour then we can hold one another accountable. I’m not going to wait for the people I care about to stop calling and visiting me. In fact, I’m going on the offensive because I want to be the son, father, grandpa, uncle, neighbor, and friend that I hope others will be to me. So I call, I write, I text and Facebook. I try to be proactive in every sphere of my relationships so that I’m fully engaged with people, and I encourage them to do the same. And, as I’ve written previously, I work hard to be a blessing to others, which also turns out to be the path to receiving the blessing of relationship from them. The fact is that we generally get out of life only what we put into it. This becomes even more important in our later years when we’re easier to forget or overlook. But if we make ourselves relationally indispensible then we aren’t likely to be alone. A big part of finishing well is about continuing to sow the seeds of love and joy throughout our lives, which often yields a rich harvest of happiness.

Please excuse me, but I can’t close this discussion without some mention of faith. For this is another area where I have observed people growing sour and losing heart later in live. Faith is such an important part of our existence, perhaps even the reason for our existence, that it can never be overlooked when we are reviewing the big picture of our lives. A relationship with God is much like our other relationships. It requires effort and maintenance, with a proactive approach and continued involvement in related activities. Old age isn’t a time to set the spiritual auto pilot, but a season to build upon a lifetime of faith and share our wisdom with others. It’s important that the spiritual matriarchs and patriarchs of any group or family continue to shine the light of example throughout their lives.

So however you may have started, finishing well is perhaps the most important part of life. Wherever we are, whatever we might have done, for better or for worse. We have the option of finishing well, of finishing better. However, the way we finish isn’t a choice we make at some distant point in our existence. Rather, it’s a series of choices that add up to a life well-lived … and maintaining that momentum through the final lap. May yours be such a life so that it continues to touch the lives of countless others.

A Part of Me

2011-04-15T20:10:00.000-05:00

At times it becomes abundantly clear that life isn’t always fair. As I write this several people in my extended sphere of contacts are confronting the harshest realities of our own mortality. When we reach those inevitable junctures in our lives, some earlier than others, often the only control we have over the situation is how we choose to respond to it. Much of that has to do with how we manage relationships and one of the gifts we can give our loved ones, if we are allowed the opportunity, is the closure they need and deserve. Today, I take the liberty of sharing a poem I was asked to write on behalf of someone with a terminal illness. The goal was to communicate some important feelings of closure in advance while providing a keepsake poem that might still provide connection and comfort at a later time. This is the result, and it has been shared through many similar situations over the years. I hope it may touch a note of comfort in your own life. Also, please feel free to share it with anyone else who might appreciate it for their particular situation. That’s all I’m going to write today, and I’ll let this verse speak for itself.

A Part of Me
A part of me is dying
This fact is looming, close at hand
And overwhelms us to the point
That we can hardly understand
Or even bear to reconsider
Just how fortunate we are
To have known such people in our lives
Who make goodbye so hard
To have known the joy of living
Which some people never find
To have found that life, though fleeting
Was worth the living, and not unkind
Yes, a part of me is dying
But let us not dwell upon
What lies so far beyond control
In time, you'll have to carry on
So please remember that a part of me
Will stay right here with you
Alive and well, within your heart
Through everything you do
There's a part of me you'll always have
That no one can take away
The things we share and understand
Which will last beyond today
But far too soon the time will come
When my life here is through
And the emptiness you feel inside
Will mean I took a part of you
By Frank Carpenter ©

Friends Forever

2011-04-09T18:03:00.000-05:00

Some years ago dear friends, who have been a big part of our lives, moved away. As token of their commitment to stay in touch they gave us a concrete stepping stone with words “friends forever” on it. All these years later that little monument still sits right outside our front door. And, true to its sentiments, we remain very close to that entire family. A while back I wrote the below poem for those friends to commemorate our ongoing devotion to them. Then just the other day the stepping stone caught my eye again and I was reminded how fortunate our family has been in the area long-term relationships. We have a score of family friendships that have lasted decades. In fact, I’ve been known to proclaim that our greatest wealth is in relationship. God has specifically blessed us in this area. This also serves to remind me that we should all be aware of our true friends and work proactively to maintain those relationships. Often we don’t tell people how we feel and they deserve to know it. So call someone and reaffirm your friendship today.

Perhaps, however, you don’t feel surrounded by friends. Hey, it happens. One of the first things in establishing friendships is belonging to groups with a common interest. For instance, many of our relationships trace their foundations back to church, where we have met many other couples with similar interests or children of similar ages over the years. Work, or any other activity, can provide common interest groups as well. One of the other best ways to find friends is simply to be one. For, like so many other areas of our lives, we get from relationships only what we’re willing to put into them. I wish you good fortune in this area as it can be one of the most meaningful aspects of life.

What I do know is that friends have been an amazing blessing to me, to our entire family, throughout the years. They have increased the joy of celebration and tempered the pain of sorrow. They have provided wisdom and encouragement when it was most needed. And occasionally they have reminded me that I was an inconsiderate idiot who should either shut up or apologize … or both. I’ve tried hard to be a good friend to others and found, almost without exception, that those efforts bore much fruit in the form of love and friendship returned. So I will close today by simply offering my gratitude to those special people in my life who have helped to make the journey so worthwhile. Your friendship has made a difference that I thank God for every day!

Friends Forever
As the years go marching by
And friends in life come and go
I realize most will slip away
But there are some we’ll always know
Time threshes out relationships
Years blow the chaff away
Until we discover the friends who go
And the ones who are bound to stay
These are the people we cherish
And we know we’re never alone
Because true friends are forever
Those words are set in stone
By Frank Carpenter ©

A Parent's Calling

2011-03-29T22:50:00.000-06:00

A very long time ago I used to subscribe to an obscure newsletter called Dads Only that was filled with parenting advice. Once I came across a little verse in that publication which has stayed with me all through the years: “Could I fail him? Could I let him down, this youth, in a world of trouble and sham? God, grant me the strength of body and mind, to be the man he thinks I am.” My kids were small when I first read those words, but I’ve tried to be true to the spirit of that little prayer over the last couple of decades. Though it’s written for and by a man I hold that it applies to all parents. The fact is that, at any age, we are such an important part of our children’s lives and they look to us for validation, guidance, and example. It’s a lofty calling, but we really do need to be who our children think we are … and who they need us to be. Furthermore, this remains important throughout our lives. When our children are small we may be their whole world. During their formative years they still need us to live up to their expectations, and as they move toward and through adulthood we need to continue showing them the path to follow. I know it sounds like a tall order, but that’s what we sign up for when we choose to be parents. And even if we become parents by accident it’s a commitment that we should have considered in advance.

Our lives are the window that our children, of any age, view the world through. The sarcastic saying, “do what I say and not what I do” is completely ludicrous. Our children will emulate us throughout our entire lives. They have that right to do so. As parents then, we have an obligation to live in a manner that we will be comfortable with our children emulating. If we don’t want our kids to smoke, drink, swear or whatever then we ought not. If we don’t want them to cheat, act violently or get divorced then we must not. If our desire is for them to be kind, selfless or faithful then we must be. In a very real way, we are the mold that continues to shape their lives long after our genetic contribution. The same holds true when they have grown up and moved out on their own. This is our calling as parents. Are you up for the challenge? You have to be, because if you have kids of any age they are watching you right now and, more than likely, you are their role model.

What's in a Name?

2011-03-20T22:44:00.002-06:00

A recent conversation with a friend took an unexpected turn and we ended up discussing the names we have for ourselves, and the names others have for us. I’m not referring to the actual names on our birth certificates so much as the names we collect in life that are descriptors or identifiers. Take a moment to recall what you may have been called by others in your life recently, or how you may have referred to those around you. I can identify many instances where I have labeled people in my life, some edifying, but others clearly deleterious and demeaning.

Just for sport, let’s take a look at some super heroes as overt examples of how we relate to names. First of all we have Superman, Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel. These names indicate strengths or character.
Then there others with names that describe specifics about their identity or physical attributes, like: Aqua Man, Spider Man, Iron Man, Batman, Batgirl, Ice Man, and so on. This might seem silly, but it illustrates how names identify us in a way that nearly all of us are familiar with. Might point is that the names we gather, as well as those we cast upon others, say something important about us. Now I’m going to move on, but if for some reason you find this paragraph interesting you can go to www.superheronames.net to look up your favorites or try out the Super Hero Name Generator.

It is important what we call others because labeling can have a powerful influence in people’s lives. I recently corrected a father who was jokingly calling his daughter “booger” as a silly pet name. What if such a name, even offered in jest, stuck with someone? My suggestion was to call a little girl princess, sunshine, or beautiful in order to glean any emotional benefit those names might offer. However, I am clearly a re-namer and have referred to each of my children with dozens of silly names through the years, though I’ve generally tried to keep them positive. We all seem to recall cases where parents have called their children stupid, lazy, worthless, ugly, fat, loser, and so forth, only to have those labels stick, at least emotionally, and affect those children into adulthood. Furthermore, negative labeling usually refers to our worst traits, rather than ones that it would be more fruitful to accentuate. And remember that even if we label people behind their backs those names can stick and catch up with them eventually. Even a mature adult, when confronted with such labels as those listed above, can start to take them to heart. Those are the kind of seemingly small things in life that tend to erode our self esteem over time, and even cause us to make choices that confirm, or conform to, negative labeling by others. It’s not even necessary to use a specific derogatory label to affect people adversely. Thoughtless offhanded comments about hair, clothing, physique, test scores, cars, money, intelligence, and so on tend to label, especially if the recipient is already sensitive regarding something about themselves that they perceive as a shortcoming. On the other hand, we have ample opportunity every day to sow seeds of encouragement with positive labeling and complimentary language. That’s the simplest way to enrich the lives of others, and make the world a better place for everyone. I have a favorite bible verse that I’ve memorized and even have referenced on the screen of my cell phone to remind me how to treat others. “Let no unwholesome word proceed from your mouth, but only such a word as is suitable for edification, according to the need of the moment, that it might bring grace to those who hear.” ~ Ephesians 4:29. Those are great words to live by … and everyone in your life will appreciate them as well.

I also want to touch briefly on what we call ourselves. Our own perceived persona is critical to how we approach life, and all the people in it. If we think of ourselves in a negative light it has a measurable impact on our lives. People who think they are either winners or losers often prove themselves right by living up to, or down to, their own expectations. Do you think of yourself as: witty, fun, deep, smart, kind, energetic, happy, outgoing, successful, etc.? Or do you think of yourself as: dumb, boring, shy, silly, small, poor, hopeless, etc.? These are important questions because they direct our daily intercourse with others, and may even affect our destiny. Now it’s not quite as simple as saying you are what you think. There’s a lot of effort required in life as well. However, you may well become who you think you are over time. Our perceived identity certainly aims our actions and reactions. For example, if you expect very little of yourself you probably won’t be disappointed. Now we do all have certain bents, various physical attributes, and personality types. That’s what makes us … well, us. But some of us are carrying baggage, heaped upon us by our upbringing, past relationships, addictions, or unhealthy behavior. We live with names others have given us instead of looking to the best of ourselves for our identity. What do you call yourself? What would you like to call yourself? Start living towards that new name.

I would also like to call your attention to someone important who seems to change names. God. Historically, God change names as He has interacted with his people though in the bible. These name changes generally reflected His interruption of their previous lives for something better. Here are few examples: When God called Abram He renamed him to Abraham. Likewise, God renamed Abraham’s wife Sarai to Sarah. He renames Jacob to Israel. In the New Testament God renamed Simon to Peter (the Rock), and Saul to Paul. There are also biblical instances where God assigns someone an identity rather than an actual name change. An example would be when He called Gideon mighty warrior, even though Gideon had previously been living with an inferiority complex. But Gideon became a might warrior. The point is that God may have a different name for you than the rather ordinary one you have been living with. God takes the broken, the lonely, and the weary and gives them names of hope and victory. There is an obscure song about this that I really enjoy which goes like this: “I will change your name, you shall no long be called wounded, outcast, lonely or afraid. I will change your name, your new name shall be, confidence, joyfulness, overcoming one, faithfulness, friend of God, one who seeks my face.” So if you’re not happy with the label you’ve hung upon yourself, or perhaps the ones others have thoughtlessly placed upon you, start with some prayer and the bible and see if maybe God has a better name reserved for you. I’d be more than happy to discuss this further with anyone who is interested as well. You just never know.

Now I’ve bounced around a bit today, from child psychology to super heroes to Old Testament patriarchs and I realize that might be a little too much ground to cover for some people. However, I wanted to take a very broad look at this subject. Returning to the title question, what’s in a name? I would say a great deal, so I encourage you to take a closer look how you refer, or infer, to both others and yourself. Refuse to live with, or dispense to others, a label with negative connotations. Who are you, really?

Bar Hopping

2011-03-15T13:31:00.001-06:00

No, this isn’t really about bar hopping, at least not in the traditional sense. It has to do with sandbars. Upon reflection, it occurred to me that my recent entries have been pretty serious and perhaps a little levity was order. Last summer we were sailing on the Chesapeake with friends and our generous host offered me the wheel. I was delighted; delighted to be there and delighted to pilot their large and exceptional sailboat. And what could be better? I was engaged in my favorite leisure activity with some of my favorite people in a scenic new locale. The world was my oyster … for about twenty minutes, after which I promptly ran their beautiful boat aground on a sand bar. It wasn’t a real emergency, and the situation was promptly rectified. In fact, the only damage was to my pride. But hey, it happens. In fact, there’s an old adage that there are only two kinds of sailor: those who have run aground … and liars. Either way, after a few minutes we were back under way and still had an amazing day out on the water. My little grounding incident just became a funny story recounted in the poem below.

I can’t help commenting, however, that no matter how idyllic life may be we all run aground once in a while. And the same adage holds true in the broader world of experience that there are only two kinds of people in the world: those who have had problems, and liars. Sometimes the channel isn’t clearly marked, but more often we’re just careless … like me. But the sand bars should not define our journey. They are just bumps along the way and we need focus on the open waters ahead that still hold so much in store for us. My advice to you is to beware of shallow water and obstacles like sand bars, and avoid the ones you can. But when you do find yourself stuck in the mud, get unstuck and sail on. Some people just stay there in the mud for their whole lives and miss the other amazing parts of the cruise. I say sail on … and bon voyage!

Bar Hopping
It all began innocently enough
With a gentle breeze fair on the beam
As we ghosted down the South River
An idyllic day, out of a dream
The skipper offered me the wheel
And I accepted cheerfully
So, taking the con, I sailed on
Things were going swimmingly
Then, of a sudden, the depth alarm
Began to emit its telltale squeal
Moments later the helm took on
An unusually sluggish feel
Apparently the officer of the watch
Lulled into complacency
Had strayed from the center channel
And drifted off course, you see
One moment there was a bow wave
And the Eastern Shore beckoned afar
The next we were dead in the water
When Frank stuck us hard on the bar
The crew all raced to the lee rail
The skipper reclaimed the Wheel
And we got her off in a moment
With vigorous seamanship and zeal
“It’s OK, no harm, no foul”
The skipper was quick to proclaim
It was just a little mud, after all
But mud had become my name
Yet, disaster was averted
So everyone enjoyed their day
And after I clean the other head
I’m allowed to go out and play
By Frank Carpenter ©

Courageous Hearts

2011-03-05T09:19:00.002-06:00

It seems like there is a lot of trouble in the world right now, and I know more folks than ever who are struggling through difficult times. The economy has hit many people hard in both their business and personal lives. There is sickness, which within my own extended circle of contacts has come in some forms that I’ve never before experienced. Marriages and relationships are in trouble, and children have issues. There is homelessness and unemployment and life is just more complicated than it was a few years ago. These are the kind of issues that many of us live with as our current reality, and they serve as a reminder that we can’t always choose our circumstances. However, we can choose how we will respond to those circumstances. That is the one thing which no one can take away from us.

Whether we experience only small problems or we are overwhelmed with what life is throwing at us, the freedom to choose our response is what determines how we’ll get through … and who we are. We have the opportunity each day to make courageous choices that can give our life the dignity and meaning that can make it so worthwhile. Yes, I did use the word courageous. You don’t have to be a Marine or a fireman or a policeman in order to be courageous. Each one of us, from the greatest to the least needs courage. Our choices may sometimes seem small, but they are still the choices which define us. They build our character and integrity, they prove our commitment to other people, they bring honor to our roles at home and in the workplace, and they are what carry us through the difficulties we face each day. The critical virtue of courage is the catalyst which transforms an ordinary life into an extraordinary life. You don’t need to lead a battle charge, rush into a burning building or jump out of an airplane to be courageous. All you have to do is make wise choices throughout your daily life. Perhaps you may be called upon to face physical danger at some point in your life. Either way, I guaranty that you face emotional, moral and spiritual danger every day. And in those situations, which are often more difficult to identify than physical danger, we still have the opportunity to do something heroic at every juncture.

It’s so tempting to compromise in our busy and pressured world, and it always seems like there is an easier choice available that would simplify our lives. But courageous people make honorable and difficult choices even when they don’t feel like it. When we’re tired, or busy or running late it’s tempting to choose poorly. If you’re overworked or underappreciated it’s easy to respond selfishly. When the kids are getting to you, or some other relative or friend offends you the natural response is to lash out at them. When you’re doing your taxes or filling out loan documents the temptation to fudge a little presents itself. If you’re sitting in front of your computer and an inappropriate email or advertisement beckons, the most natural thing is to click on it out of curiosity. When you have everyone’s attention why not embellish your story? When folks put us on the spot it’s so simple to fabricate a little lie to protect ourselves or deflect the blame. Each of these moments, regardless how seemingly insignificant, is a test of our courage. Sure, nobody cares, no one is looking, no one will ever find out. No harm, no foul right? We can rationalize things however we like but each choice, like a single tap of the sculptor’s hammer, has an effect upon us in the long run. Each of those instances presents an opportunity to make a courageous choice. Courageous people do the right thing, even when no one is looking.

And if we develop a life of making courageous small choices, when the big ones come along or larger danger looms it will come naturally to continue choosing wisely. The small acts of courage, like the training of an athlete, prepare us for the defining moments of our lives when the chips are really down and much more is at stake. That is when heroes are made … the dramatic heroes we read about in the paper, but also the quiet heroes all around us who are the salt and light of this world.

If you’re going through difficult times right now you’ll be faced with situations and decisions that will test and stretch you. Embrace them and choose wisely so that you may emerge from this dark period as a better person. If things seem to be going great you will have different temptations, but they’ll still be there. Whatever your circumstance, remember that a courageous life will be an extraordinary life. And that is my hope and prayer for you today.

Hearts Courageous
There are those who shove their hands into their pockets
And walk off the field before the game is done
Who quit, forlorn, admitting they are beaten
And concede before they hear the final gun
But there are others who rise up to meet the challenge
And who never give a thought to their defeat
Who are winners, regardless of the scoreboard
Who give everything they have with each heartbeat
These are the ones who run when most are walking
Though muscles ache and sweat streams in their eyes
Who find hope to carry on when all seems hopeless
And forge ahead without a shred of compromise
When the battle rages and the team is slipping
Men of fortitude are always set apart
Not only by their deeds, but by their efforts
And the strength they find within courageous hearts
By Frank Carpenter ©

Feed the Good Wolf

2011-02-27T09:28:00.003-06:00

There is an old Cherokee legend known as the story of the two wolves. In this story, loosely paraphrased, an old grandfather conveys to his grandson that there are two wolves within him who contend for control of his life. One is noble and good, while the other is dark and evil. When the grandson asks which one will win the grandfather replies, “the one I feed.” There is great wisdom in this simple story, and you can Google it if you would like to read a longer version. I am certainly not the first person to write on the subject. However, it has come up of late and the below poem grew out of those recent discussions.

The issue at hand is the internal conflict between right and wrong, good and evil. The devotional “Jesus Calling” phrased it as follows: “There is a mighty battle going on for control of your mind. Heaven and earth intersect in your mind, and the tugs of both spheres influence your thinking.” Each of us views this struggle based upon our own world view. Some people are content with believing that we just do the best we can based upon our upbringing. Others like the image of the little angels and demons sitting on each shoulder, whispering in our ears. Some will concede to the struggle between God and Satan. A few folks are satisfied with the Jiminy Cricket personification of the human conscience. I’m personally in the God and Satan camp, with perhaps some angels and demons thrown in. However, little red devils with horns and pitch forks are merely an image contrived in Dante’s “Inferno,” so try not to get hung up on the visual. Either way, the two wolves concept pretty much covers this issue. The point is that there seems to be struggle between various influencers in our hearts and minds. Sometimes it’s a conscious struggle and at other times unconscious, but it’s definitely occurring.

Which wolf do you feed? And is it the wolf you are willing to become? That, after all, is what life is all about … becoming. At any given time we are headed in a given direction based upon our choices. The question we must ask ourselves is where are those choices leading us? To humanize the wolf-feeding metaphor consider this quote from fitness icon Jack LaLane: “Every day, and at every meal, we choose our weight.” I won’t dwell on the context of that quote because it stings a little, but its astuteness points to a profound wisdom. The culmination of our daily choices defines our future. While pondering this subject a while ago I cobbled together four words that sum it up for me: Daily Decisions Determine Destiny. And to make them easier to remember I use the term D-4. That is what our daily struggle is all about. Whether you call it the two wolves, a spiritual warfare, or the battle between good and evil, it happens every day right within our own hearts and minds.

And that battle rarely takes the shape of one life-altering decision. For most of us it takes place in a myriad of seemingly harmless choices that happen from moment to moment throughout our days. The battle isn’t a giant sequoia that comes crashing down upon us. In fact, it’s more like a tiny trickle of water that slowly erodes our character. So it would be wrong to think of life in terms of “a” decisive moment. Rather, life is an endless series of decisive moments. And what do those moments decide? In the end they determine who we are, what our life stands for, what our legacy is, and how we will be remembered.

In conclusion I return to the simplicity of the old Cherokee story. Where do all of our choices lead? Who will we become? Which wolf wins? The one we feed. We become the choices we make ... so by sure to feed the good wolf.

The Two Wolves
There are two wolves within me
One is noble, wise and kind
He always guides me towards the good
In body, heart and mind
This wolf seeks the path of honor
And desires the best for me
He respects my fellow man
And understands eternity
Alas, there is another wolf
Who also dwells within
An evil, dark and selfish wolf
Who tempts me unto sin
This second wolf is vicious
He destroys and he devours
He reminds me of my failures
And taunts me in my darkest hours
The evil wolf is cunning
Full of anger, wrath and pride
Striving ever with the better wolf
With whom he dwells inside
And which will be victorious?
It remains yet to be seen
The noble wolf is powerful
But the evil wolf is mean
The choice is really up to me
Which wolf wins and which concedes
For, in the end, the wolf who reigns
Is the one I choose to feed
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Story

2011-02-17T15:03:00.000-06:00

I was speaking with a friend recently who had an interesting family background. Her father had been a professional Jai Alai athlete in Cuba in the heady days before the revolution. This had given him cause to rub elbows with the famous American actors and writers who frequented Havana back then. Later, after everything changed, her parents immigrated to the United States with only the clothes on their backs. To her credit, my friend’s mother meticulously recorded many of the interesting stories related to that particular heritage. This conversation got me thinking about the stories from my own family history, and how each of us has a story of his or her own. Those stories are important because they are such an integral part of who we are. That’s why we need to ask our parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and others to tell us about their lives, because those lives make up the foundation of who we are. Then we need to tell those old stories, as well as our own, to our children, grandchildren and nieces and nephews. In this we can connect the past to the present and, hopefully discover some wisdom for the future.

This line of thinking leads me to several observations. First of all, we are each an important link in the ongoing chain of our family’s history. If I don’t pass on the history to the next generation I may be robbing them of it entirely. Remember that the past is a gift we can give to those we love which they can cherish in the future. Maybe you don’t have a recorded past, or a pleasant one. Maybe you were orphaned or estranged. What’s done is done, but you can still start the story as a gift to those who come after you, and break that cycle. In this case you have the unique opportunity to give them what you were denied. Even if no one seems to care now, someday it will be too late for our kids to ask about the past, so it’s our responsibility to tell them anyway … or at least write it down.

Secondly, once we’re gone all that’s left is our story. How we live is another gift we give to our children. This is one of the most important things we have to leave them. Listen, you don’t have to be president, or fly jets or leave them a million dollars. If you can’t leave anything but the memory of a happy and loving life you will have done a great thing. The quality of a man’s life isn’t measured in money or power or social status. In the end what will matter is meaningful relationships and changed lives. Those are the only things that can outlive us in this world

I must also insert here that I believe there is a heaven and a better life beyond this brief and temporal one. If that’s true then this life is merely a dress rehearsal so I want my story to point the way to what I believe in. Therefore, I’m taking a hard look at my story to be sure that it’s the one I want to live with for eternity. Maybe you should too. If you have any questions regarding this, please feel free to email me.

As a final illustration on this subject I offer the below poem. I had the rare opportunity to travel with my father, late in his life, back to Minnesota for a couple of high school reunions. As we drove around and he reminisced I sat in the back seat scribbling copious notes about his life. I saw it as a rare opportunity to learn things about my dad that would otherwise never come up. Some of those notes grew into this poem, which I now have the pleasure of sharing with the rest of our family. By doing so I created an extra chapter in our family’s life that otherwise no one would ever know or remember. Now I know that you probably don’t care about my father’s childhood. However, I thought this might be a good example of the facts and stories that you might want to extract from your own relatives … or share with your children.

The point here is that each of us has a story … a story to live, a story to tell, a story to remember, and a story to pass on. What’s your story, and who should know it? And, perhaps more importantly, is your own story the story you want? No matter who you are, what you’ve done or how old you are, there’s still time to change your story. There is still time to give your spouse, your children, and your grandchildren the story you’d like them to cherish for the rest of their lives. I’m hoping and praying that your story will have a happy ending. And I know it still can.

Lake City Days
Oh, sweet memories of my youth
Where the Mississippi, broad and slow
Becomes Lake Peppin for a time
In the quiet valley I used to know
Lake City was my childhood home
Well named and nestled upon the shore
Of Peppin, where my family lived
Good people, solid, happy, poor
I remember the house on North Oak Street
Where water and power, we had none
Jumping rope and climbing the lilac tree
The sound of the trains and boyhood fun
Our neighbor kept bee hives out in back
And rhubarb grew around the yard
The hand pump sink and the big iron stove
Life was good, but times were hard
The back room where mother, when I was sick
Would cradle my fevered head
All through the night upon her lap
I slept there instead of my bed
And also the house on High Street North
Near the corner of Madison
Where more of my childhood days were spent
Snows of winter and summer sun
I remember the green of McCahill field
Where we tasted success and defeat
And the game in that blizzard of '39
By the end snow was nearly two feet
We went to the westerns and serial shows
At the old corner theater
Where heroes of youth were larger than life
And their images still endure
I remember the services at St. John's
Most in German, as I recall
And even at home we spoke German a lot
I knew it well when I was small
Doc Bailey's office and Lundgren's store
The gazebo down town in the park
Near the court house where dances were held
When the evenings of summer grew dark
And I'll never forget my crush on Joanne
For her, I carried my very first torch
It seems silly now, but back then it was not
I left a May basket on her porch
My dad was coach of the football team
And a teacher at Lincoln High
I shared a room with my brother, Don
Chuck Ericson lived near by
We used to swim in the gravel pit
And pull weeds at the nursery
Summer days we fished down at the lake
Where, in winter, we played hockey
It seems like just yesterday somehow
Though, in fact, it was long ago
But I can still feel the Minnesota heat
And envision the drifting snow
I hold these memories and cherish them all
From my Lake City childhood
Life was simpler then and I have no regrets
Times were hard, but life was good
By Frank Carpenter ©

A Husband's Prayer

2011-01-30T09:34:00.002-06:00

When I look around lately there seem to be a lot of relationships in trouble, or at least struggling. Couples often don’t see eye to eye, or they have reached a stage of passive-aggressive détente. The thing is that if life can be so much better than that, why should we settle for it? Let’s be clear, I’m not advocating divorce. Rather, I’m advocating that we roll up our sleeves and make things work for the better. John Lenin penned the famous lyrics, “All you need is love.” Well that’s theoretically true, but it doesn’t make much allowance for human nature. In fact, relationships do need much more than love. Love is great. Love is amazing. I’m the hugest fan of love ever. However, we live in a world that has been duped by Hollywood, popular music, and even literature. Folks think that if they have love they’ve got it made and the “happily ever after” is nothing less than a foregone conclusion. Then they can’t figure out why they’re unhappy four years later and they want to move out because their spouse squeezes the toothpaste wrong or clicks the cereal bowl too loudly with their spoon. The issue at the heart of this is that we need to redefine love.

At the root of it all, we have a problem with semantics. Too many people believe that love is a noun. They think of it as a romantic ideal, and if you’re lucky enough to have it then you’ve got the ticket for violins and sunsets. That sounds great, but it’s entirely too shallow for long-term effectiveness. The concept that you can just have “it” and that’s all you’ll need doesn’t fly. For if we follow such a line of reasoning, then what do you do when “it” goes away? Are we then off the hook because the relationship no longer has any basis? Love, as a feeling, comes and goes in far too fickle a manner to be depended solely upon. But love, real love, is not a noun at all. It’s a verb, perhaps the best verb of all. Real love is action. We don’t merely have it, we do it. So if we truly love then it will be active … actually, make that proactive.

That being said, I will turn my thoughts towards today’s intended audience. I want to talk to you men, not because I find any particular fault with you, but because you’re my demographic and the group I feel called to speak to today. Men, we need to step up and take the fact that love is a verb to heart. I encourage you to become a student of your wife and learn what makes her happy. Then take a proactive approach to loving her. And here’s the thing: If we work to make our wives happy, and love them unconditionally, then they will generally respond in kind. Love and marriage aren’t fifty-fifty arrangements. Relationship is about giving one hundred percent. So I’m calling on you men to do your part, unilaterally if necessary. It’s up to us to take the lead and set the tone for our shared happiness. Make sure that love, your love specifically, is a verb. That’s the path to the better kind of adjectives, after all.

Now today’s offering has been aimed all along at a prayer, as I fully disclosed in the title. Here’s the thing. I’m a Christian and I believe that God is the author of real love, and that’s why I offer the following prayer for husbands. If you disagree with me, you can drop the last stanza and you’re still in business, but you may miss out on what I personally consider the foundation of my own thirty years of extremely happy and successful marriage. Either way, let’s make sure that we keep our love alive by practicing it every day. To that end, I offer you the following manly marriage metaphor. Love is like a shark. It has to keep swimming or it sinks to the bottom and drowns. So I’m counting on you, guys, to keep your love swimming. A good start will be to pray the following prayer. You might even want to print it out, tack it up, and read it over once in a while. If your wife saw this little prayer in your wallet or taped to the bathroom mirror it would warm her heart to brimming. If you actually prayed it and took it to heart, you might just end up in the hall of fame of awesome husbands. And every guy wants to be in the hall of fame. So remember … it’s a verb.

With All My Heart
(A Husband's Prayer)
With all my heart, with all my mind
May I be faithful, gentle and kind
May I be watchful and creative
Ever wary of the needs
Of the one whom I adore
May I be willing to concede
Willing, also, to forgive
And more important, to forget
Slow to anger, quick to listen
Never speaking curse nor threat
May I be conscious of my duty
To her dignity and pride
Responsive to the subtle hints
Which reveal the heart inside
May I be mindful of how fragile
Close relationships can be
Placing her above my selfish needs
At each opportunity
Lord, rekindle in me daily
The love I have for her
So my thoughts and deeds and motives
And devotion remain pure
May I be the kind of husband
That my wife needs me to be
Loving her with all my heart
And bringing glory, Lord, to Thee
By Frank Carpenter ©

Just Where You Are

2011-01-28T00:43:00.002-06:00

Today I’m reaching out to those who may be hurting or in distress. Life can be difficult sometimes. Whether we are in the midst of the big life-threatening or life-changing trials, or simply overwhelmed by the stress of the day or situation, the feelings can be much the same. Sometimes life just seems like everything is going wrong and we have no place to turn. To that I say that we absolutely have someplace to turn. God. There is a God who cares about you and understands all that you are going through. Even if it feels like He’s a million miles away, He’s actually right beside you. Do you feel like it’s been too long since you’ve prayed or gone to church? It hasn’t. Are you in a bad place in your life and you’re afraid to be honest with God? You needn’t be. The amazing thing is that whoever we are, wherever we are, whatever we’ve gone through … God meets us right where we are. He is a friend to the brokenhearted and loves you more than you could know. So if you’re lonely or sad or tired, disappointed, discouraged, or hard of heart just close your eyes and open your mouth and ask God to meet you right where you are. It doesn’t take an eloquent prayer to get God’s attention. It just takes and honest one. Whatever you’re facing in life, you don’t have to face it alone. Give God a chance to give you a second chance. The next move is yours.

Just Where You Are
Maybe your heart is broken
Or the darkness is closing in
Perhaps you are overwhelmed by pain
Or your faith is wearing thin
Wherever you may be in life
Whatever you’re going through
God stoops to meet you where you are
And He’s reaching out to you
Let Him wrap His arms around you
And draw you into His care
For wherever you may find yourself
Your God will meet you there
By Frank Carpenter ©

Collections

2011-01-15T14:39:00.002-06:00

Have you ever paused to think about the things to which you ascribe value? I think an interesting way to approach this question is to consider what we collect. In one way or another we are all collectors of some sort, often without even knowing it. There are the obvious collectables like stamps, coins, etc. I know that in my youth I collected stamps. As it turns out the stamps weren’t all that important to me and, upon reflection, I realize that I mostly enjoyed sharing the time and interest with my step dad. He would probably say the same thing because we have a lot of fond memories of buying, organizing and generally messing around with stamps. I think it was kind of a rainy Saturday pastime because, even as a distracted middle-aged adult, rainy days still make me think about sitting around the dining room table in my childhood home with my step dad. I would venture to say the best hobbies and collections are those that revolve around relationships.

To get back on task, I wonder what you collect. I love books, but only have about one shelf worth that I really care about. Some folks collect books rabidly. Books are a good thing, but they are meant to be read and many people collect them for decoration rather than their historical or intellectual value. I know someone who collects matchbooks, which at least have location names on them that can associate them with memories. Lots of folks collect pictures. Especially since the advent of digital photography in the past 10 years, there is a lot more to do with our photos. Again, I appreciate that photos are also wrapped up with memories and history. I have known a couple of people, though, for whom the obsession with the photos at times eclipsed the loved ones they represented. Garage people collect tools. Kitchen people collect the assorted appliances and utensils of their passion. Garden people, in their own way, collect plants and flowers. Art people collect various paintings and other mediums. Some have a bent towards sports memorabilia. All these are fine passions and have the potential to be finer still if we employ them for the service and encouragement of others.

Keep in mind also that, at least to mind, what qualifies one as a collector is not the quantity of objects, but their passion for, and commitment to, those objects. I’ve known families who had only two cars, yet they were so passionate and meticulous about those particular cars that I’d call them collectors. Let us also consider that there are even some people who collect other people. They are not slave owners, mind you, but they are so conscious of the number and quality of their relationships, as well as the enjoyment and pursuit thereof, that I’d definitely categorize them as collectors. So you see, there are many ways to approach this concept.

And what about me? Definitely not the cars, but maybe the people. My stamps have been in a box in the garage for a couple of decades. I do collect obscure, old, and unusual post cards. However, I do so only for the purpose of mailing them to others as part of my own correspondence. The only thing I really collect on an ongoing basis is rocks. No, I’m not a geology buff. I just pick up rocks when I travel that represent particular memories or events. They aren’t large, nor are there all that many. Nonetheless, I have bowl of rocks on my desk at work filled with my favorite rocks. I tend to pick up interesting ones that have a flat side, which allows me to write the date and the name of the place on them. What, might you ask, makes a worthy rock for my coveted bowl? Here are a few examples:

· I have a rock from climbing to the top of Mt. Whitney
· One from each of my children’s universities
· One from walking on the beach with my dear wife
· Some from several national parks of particular interest
· My dear friend brought me one from Babylon during the 2nd Gulf War
· I have a tiny sea urchin from snorkeling with my daughter (OK, not a rock)
· A strange looking rock from my son’s new back yard
· Quite a few from assorted vacations
· My wife visited Sri Lanka right after the tsunami and brought me some rubble
· A piece of a crumbling wall in a French country village
· A worthless rock from a gold mine my father-in-law visited (family joke)
· One from the central coast beach where my bride and I fell in love
· A brick from a forgotten town in Arizona named after my great, great grandfather
· Another brick from the home we lived in when we first married (now destroyed)
· A piece of petrified wood from a favorite mesa in Utah

Well, I think you get the point. And what is actual cash value of my complete rock collection? It probably tallies up at about nine cents. However, they are priceless to me because the rocks tell the story of my life, or at least the high points of my life. They show where I spent my leisure time, where we took our family vacations, and also where I generally wrote a poem to accompany the memory. These are not just stones, but touchstones that catalogue my travels. They are like the products of an archeological dig which give clues to where I went, how I lived, why those memories matter, and who I shared them with. Anyway, that’s why I collect rocks. And I’m certainly not advocating that anyone else should, but it works for me.

As you perhaps review your own tendency to collect, I hope I may have opened a window of perspective for you. Enjoy your own passion, and don’t forget to share it with others and explain to your loved ones why you collect things and what they mean to you.

Rocks
You never know what folks will value
And when I pause to recollect
The list is nearly endless
Of the thing that we collect
From plethora of tourist trinkets
Stuffed animals and guns
To works of art and cars, I guess
There is something for everyone
I know a fellow who saves matchbooks
Some coins or stamps or swizzle sticks
Antique, retro, modern
Really, you can take your pick
Me, I’ve got a thing for rocks
And wherever I may be
I pick up a rock along the way
Maybe even two or three
I write the date and locale on them
To recall the place to me
And each becomes a sort of bookmark
That represents a memory
I keep them in a bowl at home
Digging through them now and then
As they are tangible reminders
Which take me back again
To people and to places
Which, through the years I’ve known
And a host of moments that I
Cherish more than precious stones
These rocks have no commercial value
Yet, they’re priceless, don’t you see
For they catalogue my lifetime
And each contains a memory
By Frank Carpenter ©

Resolution

2011-01-09T16:57:00.002-06:00

Well, here we are in a brand new year. This is the time when many people think about new beginnings. They plan, they write lists, and they make resolutions. Chances you are more organized them me, but I’ve had less than outstanding experience with New Year’s resolutions. Please note that there is no shortage of things about me that could use an overhaul, or at least some improvement. The resolution program just doesn’t seem to be the right motivational tool for promoting long-term change in my own life. However, I do want to be a better person and the logical choice for me is to work on my trajectory. While I’m loath obligate myself to a list, I have resolved to keep moving in the right direction in important areas of my life. I’m a sailor and it’s easy for me think in terms of a compass heading. So, even as I distain a specific list for myself, I have taken some bearings and will attempt to stay on course so that each day, in some way, I’m a better man than I was the day before.

As I was pondering these things I came across the following quote by Benjamin Franklin: “Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each year find you a better man.” That seems to sum up my current thinking on this subject. As you face your own New Year I hope that you’ll join me in this venture at least. Are you more highly organized or motivated? If you got a list of ten things that you truly intend to accomplish this year then more power to you. You might even be my hero. If not, let’s just be better. Let’s move towards better health. Let’s be better friends, fathers, mothers, employees, grandparents, citizens, believers, brothers, sisters, etc. If the world is going to be a better place, we are going to have to be better people. That’s a good start, and a journey we can all begin together.

A Better Man
Here we are at New Years Day again
I’ve found a rock to sit upon
And ponder what the next year holds
Now that the last is gone
I won’t delude myself by drafting
Some long list of resolutions
Since history so oft has shown
I’ve not the will for execution
Yet, the wisdom of my hindsight
So dearly bought in years gone by
Still provides encouragement
Throughout this coming year to try
To become a better person
And make the world a better place
At least the little corner of it
Within my power to embrace
For if I can make a difference
In the little sphere I see
Then that gives my life a purpose
And it must begin with me
No long list of resolutions
Or some complicated plan
But I resolve to strive each day
To be a better man
By Frank Carpenter ©

A Holiday Epilogue

2010-12-30T22:20:00.002-06:00

Well Christmas is officially over, at least the actual day. Our own living room still remains festooned with a tree, decorations, and various piles of presents which have yet to find permanent homes. And I must add that we’re still turning on the Christmas lights outside each night. Nonetheless, anyway you slice it we’re definitely on the back side of the holiday, even though I’m only now beginning to recover from the gluttony and sleep deprivation. The final side effect will, of course, come in January when the credit card bills arrive. Yet, as always, we had a great Christmas together. But what is the formula for a great Christmas?

Upon reflection I’ve come to realize that the success of my personal Christmas had nothing to do with lights, decorations, trees, carols, cards, food … or even presents. All of these traditional trappings were the frosting, but they aren’t the actual cake. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a Tibetan monk. I love all this stuff. I relish it and enjoy sharing it with everyone around me. The traditional and commercial items listed above are lots of fun, but they are rarely the source of true joy. In contrast thereto, here are some of the things that brought me true joy this Christmas, by which I mean the season and not just the day:

· Faith. The true and original story of Christmas is about God reaching out and sacrificing his only Son as a payment for our sins. Even though the actual date of December 25th is probably way off this is still the traditional day for our celebration of Jesus Christ, the Son God sent to reconcile Himself to us. I am a Christian, which means that I have acknowledged my sinful nature and accepted God’s forgiveness of that sin through the sacrifice of Jesus on a cross. Christmas means so much more because I believe with all my heart that God and Jesus are real, and that the birth of Jesus Christ as a human baby is the true and historical crossroad of eternity, by which God provided a path for everlasting life with Him.
· My marriage. A happy home makes any holiday more meaningful because it provides a basis for the joy that I believe our lives are intended for. I count myself extra fortunate to have an amazing wife whom I look forward to spending not only Christmas with, but every day of my life. Her beauty, wisdom, encouragement and fun make every day better, and especially a holiday. For over thirty years she has been the center of my earthly life and the fountain of my happiness.
· My children. It has also been my good fortune to have three wonderful adult children who are a blessing in every sense of the word. Sharing Christmas with them is both a pleasure and an honor, and all the more so as I see them embracing the faith and traditions they were raised with. They’ve also given us a first grandchild this year, which just makes everything better.
· Extended family. We are blessed with large extended families on both sides that are both loving and supportive. I’m very thankful the foundation of happiness and traditions that they provided, and which are so much a part of our lives.
· Friends. We’ve also been blessed with a large galaxy of close and long-term friendships. These relationships have added both depth and meaning to our lives in more ways than I can say. Friends have provided a rock of support, a touchstone of faith, and a great deal of pleasure to the life we share together.

I have been particularly blessed in all of the above areas. As you might well guess then, I already had everything I really wanted for Christmas long before the first present was ever opened, or even wrapped. That’s because I have all that I need, more than I deserve, and everything this is important. As for the rest of holidays, the frosting part? It was nearly perfect as well, but all the things that really matter are what filled my heart with Christmas joy. I wish the same for each of you.

His Only Son

2010-12-20T15:46:00.000-06:00

Well, we’re right in the midst of that season where our time, money and energies seem to be consumed by everything but the true meaning of Christmas. So I take the liberty of offering the following poem, which is actually a rather true story about one late night in my own parenting past. It was one of those amazing moments when what you know and what you feel suddenly collide with staggering eternal truth. My prayer for you this season is that you may have a similar experience and that, if only for a moment, all the glitter and commercialism will fade away and the true wonder of that first Christmas comes shining through for you. That’s the moment when all the presents and parties and trees suddenly cease to matter and you come face to face with the Jesus whom God sent to us on that first Christmas day. Merry Christmas to all!

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.” John 3:16

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

Thanksgiving

2010-11-23T18:47:00.003-06:00

Last weekend, as we were getting a jump on some Christmas and Thanksgiving shopping, we visited both Wal-Mart and Costco. During those two stops I was taken aback by the fecundity of the products available to choose from. Just walking down the canned and packaged food isles filled me with wonder. No, I didn’t just fall off of the turnip truck. It’s just that we rarely stop and consider how fortunate we in terms the variety and quantity of everything around us in our relatively prosperous corner of this free society. When I thought of the millions of people who don’t have enough to eat each day, compared to how much we have, it certainly put things in perspective. I live in an area, and with a mindset, that sometimes leads me to think that I’m somewhat poor. However, this is light years from the truth. The fact that I have a solid roof over my head and food enough for tonight actually puts me in the upper echelon of global prosperity. Having a good job, a house, cars, vacations, education, credit, and investments makes me quite prosperous, if not downright rich in the big picture. Yet, because someone always has more, it sometimes feels as if I have less. This is such a subjective fallacy. When we compare, we almost always compare up rather than down. And when I add in that I’m happily married, have great kids, good health, supportive families, countless friends, a saving faith, and an elaborate support system it becomes apparent that I am totally and undeniably blessed beyond what anyone should expect or deserve. You see, it really boils down to having a proper perspective.

During this week of Thanksgiving, I’m reminded once again of how truly fortunate I am. Especially with the Christmas season upon us it would be easy to dwell on the fact that I don’t have everything that I want, or that I can’t buy everything that I would like to buy for my loved ones. However, based upon the above, it becomes crystal clear that I have everything I need. Indeed, it would be difficult to argue that I lack for anything that really matters. I love and appreciate what I do have in my life. That is thankfulness, and it’s about wanting what you have rather than pining for what you don’t have.

As you prepare for your own Thanksgiving celebration, I encourage you to take an inventory of your own blessings as I have above. You might discover that you have even more to be thankful for than you ever imagined. Let’s be sure to share this with our friends and loved ones, and make sure that they know how thankful we are for them as well. And let’s be sure to thank God for our countless blessings. A thankful heart is the foundation of happiness, and that is my wish for you this week! Travel safe, appreciate everything in your life, and communicate it to others.

A Gratitude
Thank you, Lord, for the blessings
You shower upon me each day
For the beauty of the creation
That you scatter along my way
Thank You, oh God, for the miracles
Which pour forth ever from You
May my eyes ever be open
To the miraculous things you do
Thank You for your compassion
For the depths of your loving heart
For working daily in people’s lives
And allowing me to play a part
Thank You, Lord, for everything
You have been so good to me
May mine be a life of gratitude
Which echoes praises back to Thee
By Frank Carpenter ©

Daryl's Garden

2010-10-16T19:28:00.005-05:00

Today’s poem grew out of a recent summer visit to southern Washington. While there we ate a lot fresh produce, much of which came from the garden of a family friend by the name of Daryl. We were amazed by both the quality and the quantity of this produce, and it was immediately evident that the purveyor thereof truly had a gift, as well as a passion, for gardening. Although I didn’t meet Daryl, I know he is a talented and devoted physician by day and that his extensive garden is more of an avocation. The dictionary defines avocation as, “a calling or occupation; a hobby or pastime,” and that concept is what I’d like to explore further together.

Now my poem may be humorous, but it’s merely a lighthearted look at both the quality and the quantity of the fruits of one man’s particular passion. It’s not his job, but it’s clearly something that he expends a great deal of effort on, and something that other people benefit from as well. I’m guessing that Daryl’s gardening is also a satisfying and enjoyable pastime. These traits are the mark of an avocation. In addition to our specific careers, many of us identify ourselves with various extracurricular activities. For instance, you are reading mine right now. Our business cards may identify us as doctor, retail clerk, accountant, homemaker, bus driver and the like. However, we often identify ourselves differently, as do others. Along with our vocational titles, we may also identify ourselves as gardener, writer, stamp collector, aunt, sports fan, chef, auto enthusiast, artist, musician, etc. These other areas of interest sometimes define us even more than our actual jobs, which is an interesting concept. The question is, “What are you?” How do you spend your leisure time? What magazines do you subscribe to? What do you talk about at parties? What activities do others associate you with? What do you consider your areas of giftedness? What do you call yourself? These may be indicators of your own avocation. In some cases, folks may even consider their interests as a calling.

My point here is that these areas of strong interest, these avocations, can be meaningful areas of our lives which may well be worth identifying and developing. They often are the root of significant satisfaction, can be pursued through retirement, and may even become integral parts of our personal legacy. Avocations are also wonderful to share with the others in our lives, though we must be careful not to let them replace relationships. We all know of folks, some who are related to us, whose personal pursuits became obsessive and turned inward to exclude others. We need to be sure that our avocations make us interesting, rather than eccentric or isolated. For when we share them with our friends, family, children, and grandchildren they can become a meaningful personal touch point, one that can even outlive us through the lives of others who were affected by our passions.

So who are you, really? What defines you? These are interesting questions to ponder and would prove a valuable springboard towards self discovery. As I indicated earlier, I’m all about words. I love to write and share what I write. What about you? And the inspiration for this discussion brings us back to Daryl, the gardener. I still haven’t met him, but in a way I understand his passion because I have partaken of it in a very tangible way.

Think about what your own avocation might be and make an effort to explore it. You never know what you might discover about yourself, nor what an encouragement it may turn out to be for the other people in your life. As you read these words, I hope my own avocation has touched you. And the next time you drive by a well-tended garden think of Daryl and how his passion provided not only nutrition for my body, but also nourishment and inspiration for my mind … and now yours.

Daryl’s Garden
Since we arrived in Washington
And settled ourselves here
A common phrase has echoed
Through each meal in our ears
All discussions gastronomic
Since the moment that we came
Have been punctuated recently
By a single honored name
Spoken of in hushed and reverent tones
This purveyor of produce
Seems to be a gardening icon
For those who sauté, roast and juice
His name apparently is Daryl
The man chefs far and wide adore
His garden, Shangri La to vegans
He’s the prince of herbivores
His strawberries are famous
And even more so in ice cream
His collard greens and spinach
Are a macrobiotic dream
He is a titan of tomatoes
Garlic, lettuce and zucchini
His a cruciferous cornucopia
Topped with perfect raspberries
Every time we open up the fridge
Or through the kitchen stroll
We hear, “it came from Daryl’s garden”
He’s veg-ubiquitous, bless his soul
At breakfast lunch or dinner
The produce story is the same
If it’s food that’s green and grows
Then it from Daryl’s garden came
By Frank Carpenter ©

Perspective

2010-10-04T11:27:00.004-05:00

In our everyday lives it’s so easy to develop tunnel vision. The little circle of our daily experience often becomes the whole world of our conscious thought. This is especially true if we remain constantly engaged in activities which demand our full attention or commitment. Whether it’s work or children, or some other area of focus, the scope of our perspective can slowly close around us until we become unaware of what lies beyond. This sometimes leaves people feeling trapped or helpless, or unable to imagine what lies outside their field of vision. Then folks, without even realizing it, concede emotionally and spiritually to their current reality. In short we become near sighted. This happens to all of us. However, a change of pace or a small dose of free time and open space can make a remarkable difference in our view of the world around us, as well as the people who share it with us.

A few days ago I had the opportunity to stand on a mountaintop by myself and ponder some of these thoughts. It’s amazing what a little free time, open space, and a view of the far horizon can do for the soul. I was refreshed and inspired, to say the least. For a change I think I shall not pontificate further, but simply let the poem and the pictures speak for themselves. That’s Brian Head Peak, in Utah, and the view really was outstanding. I sincerely hope it may broaden your horizons as well.

Perspective
Sometimes we grow myopic
In desperate need of something new
When the nearest fence or building
Seems to be our only view
Then we forget the far horizons
Which ring us ‘round on every side
And our present world shrinks
To just the place where we reside
But then I stand upon a mountain top
As, indeed, I do right now
And I feel like Columbus
Who saw a larger world somehow
The distant peaks and valleys
That stretch out beneath my feet
Beckon to the wild heart in me
And make my life more complete
As I survey that larger world
From each compass point I see
Countless new adventures waiting
With endless possibilities
And my little world of yesterday
Which I had timidly clung to
Has been shattered by this mountain
By far horizons and vistas new
By Frank Carpenter ©

Refuge

2010-09-29T14:29:00.001-05:00

I’ve been mulling over this concept for a while. The dictionary defines refuge as, “a place of shelter, protection or safety.” That about covers it. As I thought through this word, and where it fits into my life, I determined that its value to us is two-fold. First of all, refuge is something we all need. We all need safe places where we can go to get away, or to be apart. Even taking a lunch in the midst of a pressured day can be a refuge. Many of us have specific places of refuge. They can be places of natural beauty like the beach, the mountains, or the woods. They can also be man-made like a church, a library, a favorite restaurant, or even a quite room. Certainly, there are places in your life where you can relax and let your guard down for a little while. These are places of refuge. Home can be a refuge from work and, while it’s unhealthy, for some people work can become a refuge from home. That is probably another whole topic. Where do you go when you need to be alone and think things through, or just to pray? I encourage you to think about the places of refuge in your own life so that you understand their value when you need them.

Relationship can also be a form of refuge. A person, or group of people, often provides meaningful refuge. This relational refuge is often found in a close friend or family situation. Some examples from my own life include my wife (who is amazing), my extended family, my circle of friends, and our church. I also consider a relationship with God in this way. Who do you flee to? Where do you run when you’re upset or need to talk? Where can you share your true feelings honestly? These are your refuges of relationship. They are built upon trust, respect, and time. It’s important to identify these relationships and nurture them because they can be rocks of support and safe harbors when you face the storms of life. A person who is rich in such relationships has a strong fortress as their refuge, but I’m always amazed how many people live without this great blessing of strength and encouragement.

This brings us to the final point. We’ve considered both places and people of refuge. The natural progression of such a discussion must lead to our role and obligation to be a refuge for others. We have the awesome opportunity of making our homes, our churches, and other locations, a refuge for others. The same rings true on the relational front. If we are to experience refuge from others, we must constantly consider how to be a refuge as well. We must be both safe and available. That means that we can’t be overly judgmental. It also means that we must face the world with open hearts. This leaves open the possibility our being hurt, but it’s the only way to welcome others in and provide the refuge they need. We’ve worked hard to make our home a place where others always feel welcome, where they would flee to in their times of need. There is a cost to this choice. It affects privacy, personal time, and finances, among other things. But we wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s a way of living that can sometimes prove inconvenient, and even painful. Yet the rewards far outweigh the costs. You will find below a little prayer I wrote on this subject. My question for you today is two-fold. Is your door open to others? Is your heart open to others? Is your life a refuge, the kind that you would hope for in your own time of need? I sincerely hope you may know the joy of both giving and receiving refuge in your own life. So see if the words below touch your own heart.

Refuge
May our home be a refuge?
A trusted place of care
May it be a blessing
To all who enter there
May our home be an oasis
Where the weary may find rest
And pause to drink their fill of peace
So they depart refreshed
May our home be a refuge
For all who enter here
For anyone God sends our way
Today, and through the years
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Voice of God

2010-09-21T22:59:00.005-05:00

I was visiting an unfamiliar church a few months ago. It was a different denomination than I’m accustomed to, with different traditions and surroundings. Now, that could cause a person to be distracted or judgmental, but I approached that particular Sunday morning with an open mind and an open heart … and I was rewarded for it. Since I wasn’t as engaged in the liturgy of the service it actually offered a fresh perspective on Sunday mornings. The songs, the surroundings and the style of worship varied from what I usually respond to, but the message was essentially the same. And that got me thinking about how God communicates to each person, or groups of people, in unique ways because we all respond to different stimuli. That’s the amazing thing about God and His word. He speaks across language, cultural, and geographic barriers. In fact, God has reached out to the whole world through the course of history. This reminded me of the opening verses of Psalm 19: “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge. There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard. Their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world.” In fact, God is speaking to us all the time. He does so through the bible, the creation, through a thousand large and small things which point to an intelligent designer. Most people consider God’s word to be written monologue, a long and sometimes tedious monologue. However, God’s word is a symphony. It certainly and most importantly is His written and holy word in the form of the bible. But these words are accompanied by mountains, the ocean, the animals and trees, the feel of the wind and the fury of the weather. God speaks volumes through his love for us and the resulting love we show one another. He whispers through the miraculous intricacy of our own bodies and the artistic simplicity of a tiny flower. God makes Himself known through all five of our senses. I see and hear Him, or at least His creative reflection, everywhere I go.

Now, some of you will read these words and respond with, “yes, I get it.” Maybe you’ll become more aware of God’s presence throughout our lives. I hope so. However, you may not see God in anything I’ve written about here. In fact, you may not even believe there is a God. That is certainly your right, because you have a free will. Yet, I encourage you to look around for a few moments and tell me that life doesn’t smack of the miraculous. It seems impossible for me to think otherwise, but you be the judge. If you don’t agree with me just think back over these words from time to time and consider whether or not there is a God, and whether or not He is speaking to you in a unique way. That’s all I ask.

For those of you who do agree with me that there is a God, one who actively communicates and interacts with us, there is something else to consider. Another thought that came to me as I sat in that unfamiliar church a while back was that if we hear God’s voice what does it mean to us? What should we do about it? That reminded me of a verse in the middle of Psalm 95 that reads in part, “Today, if you hear God’s voice, do not harden your hearts …” I felt like God was encouraging me not only to listen, but to respond. We can go to church, read the bible, pray, sing, or whatever, but if doesn’t affect us-if we don’t actually change-what’s the point. We mustn’t “harden our hearts.” That’s huge. You see, God wants us to respond to His words with our hearts and our lives. He wants to change us, and use us to change the world.

So whether you’re at church, or work, or home definitely read God’s written word as much and whenever you can. But I also challenge to you open your eyes and ears to the rest of the symphony God is playing for you, the symphony He has been performing since the beginning of time. My hope and prayer is that you may hear God’s voice, His whole voice. And when you do, don’t harden your heart. Open your heart … and let the adventure begin.

The Voice of God
The almighty God of heaven
Speaks to us throughout each day
He is revealed through His inspired word
He communes with those who pray
He proclaims himself in creation
And the mighty works He has done
Through the wondrous miracles of old
And salvation through His Son
Awesome God booms in the thunder
And lightening that shakes the earth
He proclaimed His love in sacrifice
On the night of the Savior’s birth
He spoke through the prophets and patriarchs
Whose words bring the wisdom of old
Through the apostles and saints as well
Came the words more precious than gold
The God of all the creation
Shouts in the tempest and gale
In the roar of the mightiest creature
In the song of the least and the frail
Each one of us upon the earth
Hears the Lord of Hosts proclaim
His love, His power, and majesty
And the wonder of His name
The voice of the Lord is ringing
Throughout the earth and beyond
And we who hear must choose each day
Will we harden our hearts … or respond?
Frank Carpenter ©

Time Well Spent

2010-09-15T14:19:00.005-05:00

Sometime last year we were on vacation with friends and we passed with striking distance of Uncle Norman’s house. It was one of my friend’s Uncle Norman and, on a whim; we all stopped to visit him together. As it turned out we had a lovely visit, toured the grounds, and heard lots of interesting stories from this venerable ninety-something old man. While many of us were meeting him for the first time, all of us appreciated the value of the visit to our friend and knew what it meant to our host. I spent some time alone there, wandering through the large, overgrown yard and ended up responding with the below poem. And I got to thinking how we all have Uncle Normans in our lives who would so appreciate a visit. In fact, for many of them such a visit would make their day … or maybe their entire year. Those folks also have many stories to share, often representing the best, or even final, link to large portions of our personal and family histories. Yet, so often we’re too busy to visit, even if they live nearby. We send Christmas cards, maybe even call once in a while, but we never visit as often as they would like. The older folks especially long for our company and for our companionship, but there is more to it. That cherished visit also validates them. It sends the message that they are still important, that their lives matter because their friends and relatives still care enough to spend time with them.

Now I’m realistic. I know there are really just two kinds of people in the world: the ones who visit and the ones sit around waiting for a visit. You know who you are. If you are in the visiting half of humanity I advise that you just embrace your fortunate position, rather than resent the people who are so anxious for you to come and see them. It’s not that much trouble and it just means so much. And whether it’s your grandma, your uncle, or your own kids, just go and visit. In the end, most of us are glad we made the effort to invest in people. I hardly ever catch myself wishing I’d spent more time at work or watching TV instead spending time with friends and family. Who is your Uncle Norman? Who have you been meaning to call or go see? Here’s what I have learned from experience time and again. It’s rarely the things I do which I regret later. It’s generally the things I didn’t get around to which cause me regret in the long run. Make the call … and make the world a better place. Whatever it may cost you in time or trouble, I can guarantee it will be a good investment. Time spent on people is always time well spent.

Time Well Spent
There are always people in our lives
Whom we know we need to see
But we get so busy sometimes
That we forget how much it means
We forget how lonely they are
And what joy a visit brings
When life has us distracted
By so many other things
Yet, those older people in our lives
Have so very much to share
If we will only take the time
To call, to visit, and to care
They have so many stories
Yet to tell, and hold the key
To the wisdom of our ancestors
And our family history
They remember all the relatives
That we may never know
Saw the war and the depression
And events of long ago
They can recount mistakes made
Those they wish they could forget
So that we make better choices
And avoid what we’d regret
When we pause to call or visit
All those folks who are alone
We turn attention from ourselves
To others we have known
And show the kind of love
That honors people in a way
We hope that younger folks
Will show to us someday
Though it seems an inconvenience
We’re always happy that we went
And we’re reminded that the time we
Take to love is time well spent
By Frank Carpenter ©

Beauty

2010-09-09T00:48:00.000-05:00

I daresay that far too often we overlook the beauty which constantly surrounds us. There is so much of it in the simplest and most humble corners of our everyday lives. We always seem to want to find beauty in the large, dramatic scenes, like a sunrise or a sunset. However, there is unfathomable splendor to be discovered in the tiniest flower, the flight of a hummingbird, or the intricate veins of a leaf or butterfly wing. There is beauty in order, as well as randomness. It’s in the music of water, the swaying of trees, or the convolution of a patch of tangled ivy. Sometimes, in the early morning, the light plays through some beveled glass on our ceiling fan lights and creates a single, tiny rainbow on our living room floor. The clear glass of a bowl on our counter distorts the view through it just enough to fascinate me. There is beauty in the taste of a ripe peach and the patient rhythm of the second hand on a clock. We can find it anywhere.

These are merely a few examples from the corner of my home where I tarried as I wrote these humble words. How much more might we discover if we turn our enlightened eyes upon the larger world we move through each day. The real problem lies in how distracting our lives have become. We’ve become so preoccupied that we neglect to look … and have forgotten how to truly see. Yet, we dare not allow ourselves to become immune to the wonder which surrounds us. Every corner of our lives is literally brimming with neglected scenes of the most exquisite beauty. We have but to sit still for a moment, and simply open our eyes … and our hearts.

Perfect Moments

2010-08-25T14:45:00.001-05:00

Below I recount an inspiring moment from my own recent personal life. I’m quite fond of the specific memory and the beauty that my “word painting” recalls. Upon reflection, however, there is also much to extrapolate from that experience and how it might apply to the other parts of our lives. As an example, even on that particular day I alone paused to observe the scene and fully immerse myself in it. The rest of my companions hiked on, perhaps missing many of the details of that little valley, along with the emotions they evoked. This perfect moment had an impact on me that I’m writing about a year later. The same often proves true in the other areas of our lives. We tend to rush past so much that life has to offer instead of pausing to actually be anywhere. I recently read a book entitled “Chasing Daylight” by Eugene O’Kelly. He was diagnosed with terminal cancer and spent his final months trying to live in the moment, while attempting to create “perfect moments” of closure with his friends and loved ones. It’s merely coincidental that my poem shares a title with this concept, which I read about a year later … if you believe in coincidence. Yet, the main idea comes shining through.

Anyway, the point I’m getting at is that we don’t have to be dying, or off in the mountains, in order to seek out and enjoy the perfect moments in our lives. They are all around us, but we have to slow down long enough to recognize and enjoy them. And that’s what we really want out of life, isn’t it? We long for perfect moments with our friends and spouses and children. We relish perfect moments in nature, in church, and even in our own living rooms. That’s the quality of life that means so much more than the quantity. When you return from vacation and people ask about it, you don’t tell them how many miles you drove or how many restaurants or hotel rooms you visited. No, you recount the highlights, the moments that made all those miles worth driving. Yet, in so many areas of our lives we measure their value by the odometer. In the end, though, how far rarely ends up being as important as how well.

And I leave you with that thought. Where do you need to pause in your own life to create perfect moments that you’ll remember a year from now … or ten years? You certainly don’t have to travel to the mountains. It might be as simple as pulling your car over to watch the sunset or pausing to look at the dew on a spider web. It might be playing catch or kicking a ball with the kids. It might be holding hands while you watch TV instead of sitting in separate chairs. Look for the perfect moments and grab onto them with both hands. If you do, I can definitely promise that you will never regret it.

Perfect Moments
The cool breeze which greets me
From the patch of nearby snow
Brings a kiss of fading winter
I’d forgotten long ago
Yet its final frozen vestiges
Still cling beneath the trees
By a pristine lake we hiked to
Where I paused to take my ease
Though it’s summer in the Wasatch
And June has nearly flown
The snowfields of this valley
Still seem to hold their own
The best of winter, spring and summer
Have converged here for a time
And the beauty each contributes
Brings a sense of the sublime
To this perfect day and moment
I have the privilege to know
So I thank God for quiet valleys
Lakes and stubborn fields of snow
By Frank Carpenter ©

Lukewarm

2010-07-28T14:41:00.000-05:00

It’s an interesting phenomenon that often, even in the most important areas of our lives; we are willing to settle for far less than our best. If we were purchasing a new cell phone, a fashion item, or some other creature comfort we wouldn’t dream of shortchanging ourselves with an inferior product. At a restaurant, we would never accept and under or overcooked entrée. We spoil ourselves in so many ways. However, when it comes to spiritual, ethical or relational issues we’re often willing to compromise. In areas of faith, patience, charity and compassion we are quick to settle. Consequently, we shortchange God and those whom we are called to love on His behalf. Worse yet, we shortchange ourselves as well. This is all the more hypocritical if we profess to be devoted to God. In the third chapter of Revelations, Jesus indicates that He is most offended when we are lukewarm. He would rather see us all the way hot or cold, for or against Him, than merely living lives of tepid complacency. Yet, many of us live such lives, going through the motions and answering most of the questions correctly, but never throwing our whole hearts into life or devoting ourselves fully to God. This represents the lukewarm life our Savior so vehemently warns of. In that passage, His response is that He will “spit” the lukewarm people “out of His mouth.” I’m not even entirely sure what that means, but the eternal connotation is clearly undesirable.

The point is that we are called to a better life, one of faith and passion. Isn’t that what we really want after all? And yet, we so often find ourselves living lukewarm lives. The synonyms for the word lukewarm include: tepid, cool, unenthusiastic, halfhearted, unexcited and indifferent. In other words, adjectives we generally would prefer not have used to describe us. Although it sounds intriguing to live on the cutting edge, most of us stay planted firmly in the middle. We’re frankly more concerned with falling off of the edge than living out on it. So how do we live differently? We need to be open to change. We need to be willing to say yes. We need to face our dreams and our prayers with excitement and open minds.

I certainly concede that I’m speaking to myself here as much as anyone else. However, this might be easier for all of us if we were willing to embrace this kind of change in one another, if we were committed to encouraging it. Think about your own life today. Are you comfortable and complacent, or are you ready and willing? Do you believe that the story of your life is already written, or are you excited about the blank pages of your story that still remain to be written? Would God, or the other important people who share your journey, look at your life and call it hot, cold, or lukewarm? That is the question to ask. And I daresay that each of us already knows the answer in his or her heart. Let us strive together to make the answer to that question a resounding hot. We are called to lives of purpose and passion. That can be frightening, but it can also be amazing and rewarding. One thing is sure, however. Each of us knows that lukewarm will just never do.

Lukewarm
Oh, I keep the Ten Commandments
And my life looks good enough
To the people who observe me
But sometimes Jesus calls my bluff
By pointing out the little things
Unnoticed by all the rest
He shows me that the life I lead
Is just lukewarm, at best
I’ve avoided all the “big” sins
Gave my time and money too
Living cleaner than most other folks
Yet, it will never do
Because my God requires much more
Of me than I have shared
He knows how I’ve been holding back
And how little I have cared
I know there is a better life
Which God reserved for me
A life that makes each day worthwhile
And counts for eternity
It requires faith on my part
Courage and passion too
But it’s the life I’m called to lead
For lukewarm will never do
By Frank Carpenter ©

Beauty

2010-07-04T18:08:00.002-05:00

Since I am definitely a proud new grandfather and currently visiting the newest addition to our family, it seems appropriate to offer another poem on my new favorite subject. Over the years, I have written a great deal about the beauty of nature and the wonders of creation. Well, this little one never ceases to amaze me with her funny faces, noises, and antics. Yes, I am biased and duly enamored. However, this little person really is a true wonder of creation to us. There is a beauty and innocence in her that seems to have eroded from the heart of cynical old men like me over the years. Now I find that my perspective on everything has been refreshed and renewed. And from that new perspective I offer the following poem, with a wish that you may look afresh upon the world as I now do.

Beauty
As I observe my granddaughter
Sleeping in a blanket warm
I know that I have now seen beauty
In its most perfect form
A beauty uncorrupted
By the wiles of this world
Unscathed by fashion’s fetters
Or harsh words from other girls
She is as God intended
At peace and innocent
No worries for the coming days
No hint of discontent
This cherub, only two weeks old
Swaddled in her blanket warm
Assures me I have now seen beauty
In its most perfect form
Frank Carpenter ©

Kalama Morning

2010-07-02T15:07:00.001-05:00

We’re away in the state of Washington visiting our kids and first grandchild this week. As is my nature when I’m away, I rose early to walk and take in the new surroundings. We’ve been quite busy lately and work is always hard to escape from so I came fairly exhausted and distracted. Fortunately, I have a gift for being able to turn life off and just be away when I’m on vacation. My morning ritual of rising early to walk while I’m away is an important part of getting my brain on vacation. I take the liberty, therefore, of offering this description without much explanation because it speaks for itself. I hope and pray that you may find peace in the quiet corners of your own life today as well.

Kalama Morning
I rose this morning early
Just so glad to be away
From the world of work and pressures
That seems to fill each day
I stuck out afoot on my own
To enjoy the woods and town
And to revel in the solitude
Which of late I’ve scarcely found
I wandered quiet tree-lined roads
As gentle rain began to fall
Not enough to soak me through
But this is Washington after all
The weariness and worry
It has been my lot to bear
Seem to dissipate with every breath
Of northwest morning air
As I begin to hear the birds again
I pause to make a daisy chain
And thank God for quiet mornings
Simply walking in the rain
By Frank Carpenter ©

A New Beginning

2010-06-26T16:20:00.002-05:00

When five small fingers grasp on big thumb
The cares of the world are overcome …

Well, a week ago on June 18th the most amazing thing happened. I became a grandfather. Yes, it’s true. Our family is both overjoyed and proud to welcome its newest member: Aubree May Carpenter. For anyone who relishes baby statistics, she was 7 pounds, 5 ounces, 21 inches long and had an Apgar score of 9 … oh, and she’s absolutely perfect. Am I bragging already? I don’t generally fill these pages with much personal news, but this event is naturally of the greatest consequence to my little tribe. Sure, babies are born every day, but this one is ours and, quite frankly, it changes everything. It’s not so much that I’m old enough to be a grandfather and very soon small people will begin calling my pops. Nor is it, from the strictly scientific standpoint, that I have successfully passed on my genetic material to another generation. My response is more like the response of Adam in Genesis 2. After God creates Eve from Adam’s rib, Adams responds with, “this is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh!” Little Aubree has a bit of us in her and, in every sense of the word, she has become our legacy.

She will also be the recipient of our legacy, whatever that may be. She has become the manifestation of the hope that our wisdom and values and faith may be passed on and find some meaning beyond us. Let’s face it, if all she were to receive as a legacy is my looks and my money she would find herself sadly shortchanged in life. Fortunately, a man’s true legacy is that of heart and of spirit. So I hope and pray that she may find them of value, for my life will have altogether more meaning if it turns out to have been meaningful to her. That is what legacy is all about. These very words have altogether more meaning because of her. And so do I.

Little Aubree May Carpenter, we welcome you to the world and thank you for the joy that you have brought into our lives already! I close today with a wish and a prayer for the newest member of our family, and one which perhaps all of us grownups may be wise to take to heart as well.

A Child’s Eyes
May you never grow too wise
To see things through a child’s eyes
May you always seek the truth
With the innocence of youth
May you learn to love each man
As freely as a child can
May you daily kneel and pray
And with a child’s heart … obey.
By Pops

The Romance of the Century

2010-06-14T23:43:00.000-05:00

I was waiting in line at the grocery store this afternoon. Like most people, I filled that idle time looking over the photos and the headlines on the covers of the various magazines displayed there. Usually I find nothing of interest in the intellectual wasteland of those magazines, but one in particular cover caught my eye today. The new issue of Vanity Fair had a classic photograph of Elizabeth Taylor in her prime with the bold face headline, “Liz Taylor and Richard Burton, the Romance of the Century.” It all sounds very glamorous and I’m certain that a lot of folks would concur. However, especially today, I must take issue therewith. I’ve grown weary of Hollywood romance. I’m tired of all the hype, the glitz, the frenzy of interest and speculation, and often the character of those in the limelight who rarely live up to the images they project. Celebrity romance promises so much and generally delivers very little. It’s a case of people no better than you or I making below average choices in public, flitting in and out of rehab, and practically getting worshiped for it. And if they adopt a child from Africa once in a while they achieve near sainthood. Don’t get me wrong, I love kids from Africa. However, these celebrity couples are rarely more worthy of being our role models than anyone else.

Now let’s return to Liz and Richard and the supposed romance of the century. Seriously? Elizabeth Taylor was married eight times to seven different men. She was married to Richard two different times, which hardly qualifies them for that title. After all, they failed twice. I’m sorry, but Liz wouldn’t know the romance of the century if it hit her on the head. They might have shared the infatuation of the century or the divorce (s) of the century, or the public affair of the century, but the title of romance of the century certainly must belong to someone who didn’t fail at it eight times.

I suppose it boils down to a world view and our definition of love. The problem is that Hollywood’s other great contribution to society is that it has completely corrupted the meaning of the word love. We’ve been programmed to believe that love, true love, is tumultuous and tragic, that it comes and goes like flu season, and the whole story can be told in two hours. (at $10 a ticket) I cannot, I will not, believe that. True love isn’t a fickle feeling that we can fall in and out of over and over again. Genuine love is a way of life that cherishes and honors another person and builds over the course of years. If you’re really looking for the romance of the century, then start crashing fiftieth anniversary parties. That’s where you’ll find it. That’s where you’ll discover the actual experts on love. Those are the people who took their wedding vows to heart and proved out their love for better or for worse.

I’ve been married for nearly twenty-nine years to just about the most wonderful person in the world. And you know what? Our love and our life just keep getting better and I thank God for them every day. Now, I don’t think we deserve the romance of the century title because it belongs to a lot of amazing couples who have been together for twice as long as us. However, I can honestly say that during the two centuries we have had the pleasure of being a part of, I’ve felt we like were at least contenders in each one. You can’t really ask for more than that.

Today, I dedicate this poem to all those folks who have lived and loved together for a lifetime. You are the definition of the word love and the personification of romance. Liz and Richard, for all their glamour and their undeserved title from Vanity Fair, will never hold a candle to you.

Till Death Do Us Part
We seem to have forgotten
How much wedding vows mean today
So when life grows too difficult
Folks just seem to walk away
They forget about their promise
To stand through sickness and health
To stay when things were better or worse
Through poverty and through wealth
We cast aside the promises
We made back at the start
To the ultimate commitment
When we vowed, ATill death do us part@
A vow devoid of options
Which, in this world of lies
Stands as the measure of commitment
Unmarred by compromise
Those vows don=t mention happiness
Nor compatibility
Clearly, because they become subjective
When folks begin to disagree
In the end, there is no greater tribute
To what marriage is all about
Than those who stay Atill death do us part@
Who live those wedding vows out
So when your commitment is waning
And you feel love slipping away
Remember the vow you made before God
And your loved ones that long ago day
Find a way to rekindle the fires
Which once burned so bright in your heart
And stand by your promise, whatever the cost
Until death do us part
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Optimistic Spider

2010-06-05T22:19:00.001-05:00

On the lighter side, for a change, I would like to share the poem below, which is based upon a weekly ritual that actually occurs regularly in the side yard behind our garage. While this is mostly a humorous story, it also highlights some important virtues. My spider has obviously been enhanced through the literary tool of personification. Still, I never cease to be amazed by her optimism and persistence. It is possible, of course, that she’s merely trying to earn a humble living capturing flies, and that I’m some kind of giant arachnid home wrecker who consistently destroys her handiwork while jeopardizing her livelihood. Anyway, she labors on in spite of the havoc I wreak. Call it instinct, or nature, creation, or even plain old undaunted tenacity. Either way, she never gives up and her efforts are truly commendable. It may just be me, but since I’ve been such a nuisance to her I’d like give her as much credit as possible for her valiant efforts. Just a spider? Maybe. But let her serve as a reminder to all of us to dream big, work hard, and never give up.

The Optimistic Spider
Down the side yard of our house
Where humans rarely stray
There lives an optimistic spider
Who labors every day
Cunningly, she spins her web
From the bushes to the wall
And bides her time ‘till Wednesday night
When she knows that I shall call
For that is when the trash cans
Must be carried out again
And like a hunter on a game trail
She lays in wait for men
Then, in the dark of Wednesday
As I hurry through my chore
I plunge headlong through her web
Just like a hundred times before
Of course, I’ve forgotten once again
That she’ll be waiting there
And I mutter exclamations
Pulling web from face and hair
Yet, it’s a minor inconvenience
Even when I am surprised
And I continue with my mission
As she again laments her prize
But by Thursday she is back at work
Regardless of my flight
Undaunted and preparing
For the trash next Wednesday night
And I have to hand it to her
For her stalwart tenacity
Because her faith and commitment
Are a testament to me
And while to us she’s just a spider
She see’s it quite a different way
For I’m her nemesis, her King Kong
And the one who got away
By Frank Carpenter ©

USNA Commissioning Week

2010-05-29T07:32:00.004-05:00

This week we have been at the United States Naval Academy for their commissioning week and graduation in Annapolis, Maryland. It’s been a full week of patriotic activities, culminating in a performance by the Blue Angels and yesterday’s commencement ceremony. The Academy is steeped in rich history and tradition. Not to be outdone, the city of Maryland is a historical treasure as well. It was even our nation’s capital at one time. We have come here to honor two young men whom we have known since they were just tikes, and each of them is almost like a son to us. Brandon McGaha was sworn in as a Marine Corps Second Lieutenant yesterday, and Jon Weissberg was commissioned as a Navy Ensign. Each of them is headed to flight school and they will commence careers in their respective services this summer. We are extremely proud of these two young men and all of their accomplishments, and below I have taken to liberty of posting a poem written in their honor.

This week has also served as a reminder of how important our military is to the strength and influence of our nation, and how much I respect all those men and women in uniform who have sworn to uphold and protect our way of life and the principles upon which it is founded. Well done, USNA Class of 2010!

Where Duty Calls
Four years ago we sent you off
Mere boys as we recall
Unto this place where men are made
Where they hear duty’s call
Long has been your journey
And difficult your way
So we have come to celebrate
Your accomplishments today
You have received an education
As fine as any men attain
Yet, so much more has happened here
And we count it all as gain
You have been endowed with manly skills
The ancient art of war
You have honed your minds and bodies
Learned to trust and to endure
You have learned to lead, and follow
Each in measure as required
You have learned to serve your country
Been challenged and inspired
So much more has happened here
Beyond your education
And we have come to honor you
And offer heartfelt approbation
Because you’ve become the future
Of our nation’s sovereignty
The instruments of freedom
The guardians of liberty
We entrust to you, our sons
The safety of this land
And the principles it represents
We place in your worthy hands
You are our best and brightest
Our heroes and our friends
And we could not be prouder of you
As this your next journey begins
So serve us well, young warriors
Whatever may befall
God speed and go forth boldly
Wherever duty calls
By Frank Carpenter ©

Courage

2010-05-23T22:35:00.000-05:00

As a rule, I don’t think I have ever discovered any real wisdom in a fortune cookie before. However, earlier this week at lunch I opened one and read something which seemed quite profound. The message on the little paper read, “Courage is a virtue, but it is also the catalyst that proves all the other virtues when they are needed most.” A simple thought, but it’s one which certainly warrants further consideration. Whatever our other virtues may be the test of their worth, and their actual manifestation within us, always comes down to how we live them out in the pressure cooker of real life. Action is the litmus test of virtue. Are we loyal, truthful, pure, patient, humble, faithful or selfish? We can say or think whatever we like. Over time, however, life has a way of reducing us to the lowest common denominator of our character as we try to live out our values in the real world. Will we stand by a friend or tell the whole truth when we realize how much the consequences can hurt us? Are we patient on the freeway even when we’re late, and in a hurry? Can we remain pure and upright when serious temptation comes our way? Real virtues are always tested and proven in the refining fires of family problems, peer pressure, work performance, social insecurities, illness, financial difficulties, addictive tendencies and the like. That is when courage comes into play. As the cookie said, courage assists all of the other virtues. And we need real courage, in varying degrees, to pick our way through the mine field of choices and responses that every day presents us with.

Usually we think of courage in terms of the “big” things like a fireman rushing into burning building to save someone or a soldier advancing under enemy fire. Those examples are absolutely courageous, even heroic, and they happen every day in real life … just not to most of us. Most of us live quiet little lives that, at first glance, don’t seem to require much courage. I have certainly never had the opportunity to exhibit heroic courage in such situations as the aforementioned. However, we all face opportunities each day that require courage to live out our virtues. And if we aren’t brave enough to make those choices it slowly erodes our virtuous character. So here’s my wish for you today to find the courage to make all the choices that come your way.

Coloring Eggs

2010-04-02T08:39:00.003-06:00

Today, dear friends, a look at the traditional Easter holiday from a different perspective. A while back a fellow employee asked me, coincidentally around Easter, how to deal with some racial issues within her family. This is what I came up with. I hope you enjoy it and pass it on to others who might be in need of a fresh perspective.

Coloring Eggs
It was a sobering occasion when my nephew wandered in
With some racial observations on the color of our skin
Wanting answers for the first time regarding nationality
And the myriad of people who were not the same as he
When I explained it didn’t matter and that folks are all the same
He didn’t buy it for a moment, yet he was not to blame
For his powers of observation were surely keen enough to see
How racial lines divide our world and have through history
He had learned to hate and fear and judge, just like the rest of us
Mostly from the very folks who should have fostered love and trust
Yet, no matter how we teach them, we still wake one day to find
That our children grow up just like us, they are not color blind
I took him to the kitchen, we put some eggs into a pan
I turned on the stove to boil them and carry out my plan
I had a box of Easter dye, which we mixed and had in place
And once the eggs were done and cooled, on each we drew a face
We placed them in the colored dyes, two dozen eggs we made
In every color of the rainbow, and each a different shade
I let them dry and lined them up, we looked at them a while
“Now the real fun begins,” I told him with a smile
We cracked the eggs and peeled them and lined them up again
I discarded all the colored shells, we learned our lesson then
When suddenly he sat up straight and his eyes flew open wide
He understood, and so proclaimed, “They’re all the same inside!”
By Frank Carpenter ©

Living

2010-01-24T20:03:00.002-06:00

We often are so preoccupied with the details of life that we can actually miss living altogether. To breathe, to move, to make noise-any animal can do this. We humans can feel and see, and think and dream, and live so far beyond the miniscule distractions of existence. Yet, we wallow in them, accomplish them, revere them … and are bound by them.

We have the choice each day and each moment to truly live, to reach within ourselves and not only find meaning, but make meaning in life. Even more importantly, we have the ability and privilege to help make life more beautiful and meaningful for others. It isn’t simply enough to earn and own and be respected. The measure of my life lies not only in how well I lived it, but how well I helped others to live theirs. If I should fail at everything but living, that would certainly be enough. Let us not waste a moment.

To Be a Blessing

2010-01-16T11:44:00.002-06:00

While speaking to a friend earlier this week I was reminded of an important concept that really should be a focal point of our daily lives: being a blessing. So I began thinking about how I could be a blessing to other people. I’m hoping that I already am most of the time, but it hasn’t generally been a specific goal. At its root, this simply boils down to loving other people more than myself, proactively and with their best interest at heart. Isn’t that what life is all about, after all? As I consider the relationships we maintain within our different spheres of influence it becomes all together clear who I would like to be, and how I would like to be thought of by others. Whether at home or in the work place, with friends or family, coworkers or strangers, I desire to be a person who blesses others with my life. It makes all the sense in the world. Would you like to be a good husband or wife, a good friend or boss? Be a blessing. Do you want to be remembered fondly by your children and grandchildren? Be a blessing. Do you desire to be thought well of by your neighbors, coworkers or friends? Be a blessing. Would you like a lasting legacy that reaches beyond your own temporal life here? Be a blessing. Would you like to follow the bible’s commandments to honor God and love others? Be a blessing.

But what does that mean? How can we be a blessing to other people? It just requires considering what others people need and what would make them happy, then acting upon it. There are tangible blessings, which have to do with sharing, generosity and meeting tangible and physical needs. There are relational blessings, where we are conscious of the emotional needs of others and strive to fulfill them. There small and simple blessings, and ones with higher callings and purposes. Many are both. For instance, when I treat my wife and children well, complimenting, encouraging and appreciating them, I fulfill their short-term need to be loved. However, those same actions also create lasting legacy by setting the tone of my household, teaching others the language of love and building self esteem. Furthermore, doing so opens lines of communication. This is because people want to be blessed and treated well and when I do so it causes them to be open to me, adding more meaning to my words on a variety of subjects. Conversely, if I constantly deride people or mock them with satire they eventually build an emotional barrier between us which prevents me from hurting them … or having any positive impact upon them either. We all have people in our lives who are mean or tactless and over time we shut them off emotionally as a defense mechanism. Many parents even do this with their children, essentially abdicating the amazing God-given opportunity to be a blessing or have a meaningful emotional legacy. Rather, they create a legacy of pain and disappointment that children often carry with them for the rest of their lives. Yet, so many folks just can’t help making the negative and judgmental comments that hurt folks and drive them away. But let us dwell upon the positive for the sake of this discussion.

Most of us want to be people whom others desire to be with. We want to be the beloved spouse or parent, or the favorite aunt or uncle, or the friend so often thought of. That all begins with making a conscious effort to bless others with our lives. When we do so, it also turns out to be the gift that keeps on giving because when we encourage others it lifts them up and has an impact upon their lives. And to have played that part in the lives of others is a truly worthwhile legacy indeed. I fall far short of this lofty goal on a regular basis. I speak to quickly and thoughtlessly. I’m judgmental, and regularly fall into sarcasm that is far from my intended relational goals. However, I’m trying. I’m thinking about it. I’m praying about it. I’m practicing it. And that’s the point, really. Too many people simply imply, “I’m just not like that so take me as I am.” Those are the people who complain that they have no friends or that their grandkids never come and visit them. That’s not what I want for my life so I’m working hard to aim it in the other direction with deliberate acts of kindness and encouragement, and generosity. That’s what it means to be a blessing, and essentially what it means to love people as well. Just imagine what the world would be like if more of us were making such an effort. So start right now. Turn to the person next to you and compliment them. Pick up the phone and call you mom or friend or brother. Write a note, an email, or a text. Love people with whatever abilities God has given you and you will be a blessing. Oh, and here’s the best part … you will almost certainly be blessed back as well.

To Be a Blessing

There’s a lot of things to wish for
So much to aspire to

We all have lists of what we’d like

To accomplish before we’re through

Though I could fill up pages

With deeds as yet undone

In the end I think that my list

Could boil down to only one

I just want to be a blessing

To the people in my life

A husband and a father who

Always loves his kids and wife

A friend who can be counted on

A brother and a son

Who always gives his very best

Each day, to everyone

A man who serves his neighbors

And does his job in such a way

That he makes a difference in the lives

Of those he touches every day

I know it sounds a little simple

When there’s so much in life to do

It’s not the kind of mission statement

That we’ve grown accustomed to

But it would be enough for me

Though nothing else gets done

If I can simply be a blessing

Each day … to everyone

By Frank Carpenter ©

Be at Peace

2009-10-03T20:47:00.001-05:00

Far too often, life seems to get away from us. We get so busy that we lose track of ourselves among all the other selves who surround us. We become part of the herd of humanity, swept along by the currents of activity and responsibility until it seems that we only exist as part of the larger crowd which constitutes our sphere of interaction. We are also bombarded by noise and various other stimuli which demand our attention until our conscious thought reverberates, as it were, only with the external input we receive. Some people are able to process all of this activity and continue to maintain their equilibrium. Others, like me, require space and time to debrief ourselves from the ubiquitous din of suburban living. I definitely have trouble finding peace when there is so much making noise around me.

I also feel that God whispers to us through the quiet moments. When we allow our lives to fill up with external distractions they drown out God … and we were built to hear Him. We were also built for rest, and many of us ignore that part of our design as well. However, when I get outdoors or get away everything seems to come back into alignment. Peace, quiet, and especially nature calm my heart and help to retune my spirit. I often don’t remember this until after I have gotten away, but it would be so much healthier if I would seek out the peace I require without waiting for my busy life to wear me down. My hope and prayer for you today is that you may discover whatever quiet place or time in your own life that you need to find peace.

Be At Peace
Down by the quiet waters
With life safely at my back
I wander paths of solitude
In search of the one thing I lack
It was peace which had eluded me
Whatever blessings I had known
And such was heavy on my heart
As I wandered there alone
When suddenly, I came up short
As if I’d struck a wall
Having heard an unfamiliar sound
The sound of nothing at all
Something deep within me trembled
Spreading from my trunk to limbs
As the silence ebbed within me
It was then that I heard Him
The still, small voice which whispered
Like silent thunder to my heart
Pouring over me as warm cascades
And gently soaking every part
For once, the voices of the many
Were drowned out by the only One
And He whispered, in that moment
Be at peace, at last, my son
By Frank Carpenter ©

Graduation Season

2008-05-27T13:09:00.003-05:00

Well, once again it’s the season for graduations. Please bear with me as I venture into the more personal realm for moment since this subject is currently so dear to our own family. My daughter, and technically our baby, graduated from college yesterday. That is quite an event and, this being my venue, it seemed only appropriate to dedicate a chapter to her. Our society has many conceptions of the moment when a young person becomes an adult. It may be 13 years old, 16 or 18 or 21 … all depending on what values and life stages you cherish. However, it cannot be denied that the college years offer an important rite of passage into adulthood and the age of final responsibility. What better time, then, to pause and honor a young person for their academic accomplishments and to help launch them into the next chapter of their lives. Certainly it may come as no surprise to my readers that in my own family such an occasion must generally be commemorated with a poem. I hope that even if you don’t know me you may be able to appreciate these sentiments. Perhaps, others may even be able to use these same words to honor someone in their own lives. But for now, I simply need to take this opportunity and say: Cassandra, I am so proud of you and what you have accomplished. These simple words are my testament to you and to how you have touched all of our lives for the better. Congratulations on your big day and we can’t wait to see what the future holds for you. Love always, Dad.

Between the Future and the Past

Dearest daughter, this is quite an occasion

the culmination of twenty-one years

Of hoping and dreaming and planning and praying

of hard work, laughter and tears

This has been the goal and the purpose

of all of your education to date

The moment you tried to focus upon

through all those nights you studied so late

Who could have known on that first day of school

all those seventeen long years ago

When you walked into Eastbluff for kindergarten

that this is how far you would go

From elementary school at Lincoln

and your six years at CDM

From you’re A B C’s to chemistry

this is where you were headed back then

Every chapter of the life you have lived

each careful step along the way

Has helped to shape the young woman you are

and the life you embark upon today

And as you stand at this juncture

on the brink between future and past

You have so many memories to cherish

from your first day of school to the last

Those memories mostly are people

lives you have touched and who’ve touched yours

Whose voices and faces will live in your heart

long after you sail from these shores

Family, instructors and classmates

roommates and sisters and friends

Many you hope that you’ll never forget

to be cherished from now till the end

All of these people, indeed all of us

who have shared this journey of yours

Are so proud of what you’ve accomplished

and how God has opened the doors

To a future you always have dreamed of

which now lies but one step away

Through this gate of knowledge you’ve opened

and shall venture beyond from today

Cassandra, we are so proud of you

of who you are and all you have done

Of how you’ve tempered responsibility

with a joyful heart and unbridled fun

We respect the choices that you have made

the way you’ve matured and grown

The affect you have had upon others

and the faith you have made your own

It’s unlikely that any parents

could feel more pride than we

Or know more joy on such an occasion

in the blessing a daughter can be

You are all that we could have hoped for

as we prayed so diligently

Through this score of years on your behalf

as we strove upon bended knees

We thank God for your beauty and wisdom

for your virtuous loving heart

For your awesome heart of compassion

for the light you have been from the start

Cassie, this is your day and your moment

and the reason we’re all gathered here

Is to honor you on your graduation

accomplished in only four years

Congratulations, Miss Cassandra

and all our best wishes to you

May God’s blessing be ever upon you

And may you succeed in whatever you do

By Frank Carpenter ©

Mine

2008-05-12T12:55:00.003-05:00

We live in what is generally a world of selfishness and entitlement. This leads us to surround ourselves with creature comforts and items of value which we hope will offer security for the future. We work hard and measure our success, and that of others, in terms of external trappings and material lifestyle. Now here’s where it gets a little uncomfortable. In the long run, those external trappings turn out to be just that … external trappings. They can’t actually make us happier, or help us to live longer, or prevent divorce, or keep our kids from imploding and ruining their lives. In fact, they may even have the opposite effect. Furthermore, I believe that there’s really a God and an afterlife and that this life we’re living now may just be dress rehearsal for something far better. Let’s assume for a moment that I’m right. If that’s the case, then all our possessions are essentially just props on the stage of life. However expensive or opulent, the “stuff” we so habitually surround ourselves with can be considered as so much hotel furniture. Sometimes it can seem quite nice, but the fact remains that we’ll eventually check out and leave it all behind. That certainly puts things in perspective. The more we collect and the tighter we cling to it, the more it affects us and the more it devalues other things in our lives. People are what matters. Heaven is what matters. Stuff … not so much. I’m reminded of the closing scene in a dozen B movies where the bad guy invariably gets dragged over the cliff, out of the plane, or to the bottom of ocean by the weight of the treasure he has strove to possess through the entire plot. Life is like that. The treasure, and often the pursuit thereof, can drag us into the depths and cause us to forsake so many more valuable things in our lives.
In the book of 1 Timothy, the apostle Paul wrote, “For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.” He didn’t say that money was evil, as it is so often misquoted, but only that the love of money can have a negative effect upon us, or be the root thereof. I’m guessing that concept probably applies to all the material things in our lives. Prosperity can be a gift from God, but it may just be meant as a tool to serve Him through serving others. Once it ceases to be a tool and becomes a goal in and of itself, then we have probably deviated from its intended purpose. All of us need to ask ourselves how important our stuff is and who it really belongs to. After all it’s not really ours, but God’s, and I daresay it’s merely on loan for us to steward until such time as we are called to account for it. Once I begin to think of my wealth and possessions as mine I have robbed them of their potentially eternal purpose. At the same time I have wrested them from God’s kingdom and vainly attempted to place them into my own. Then, once I consider myself as an owner rather than a steward, I begin make an endless series of choices that tend to serve me, as the owner, instead of God. Such is the proverbial slippery slope of living in a material world. So this is a reminder to all of us, including my very imperfect self, to try and approach our lives with an eye towards God’s economy so that we can keep Him on the throne He so deserves. For once we can bring ourselves to say “His” instead of “mine,” we have taken an important step towards participation in the kingdom of God. Forever is such a long time that it just makes good sense to invest in it.

Mine
I hold the title to my car, each paycheck bears my name
As does the deed upon our house, you probably feel the same
We all have stuff we call our own, purchased with the funds we earn
But God has shown me lately, that I still have a lot to learn
For I’ve realized that all these things, I clutch so selfishly
Are really not my own at all, they belong to God, not me
Furthermore, they come from Him, these things I thought were mine
He is the source of every blessing, of our talents, wealth and time
And when we clutch them to ourselves, and hoard our precious things
They cease to serve their purpose, or offer blessings they could bring
For everything God sends our way, has purposes divine
So when we squander them for comfort, or waste our precious time
We remove them from the will of God, to pile on a garbage heap
When it could have served the Lord, and help His commandments keep
That which we posses in life, is clearly not our own
But on loan to us for service, to lay before the Master’s throne
Every time we count a blessing, on the debit side, you see
We must also post a credit, as a liability
To share the talents, time and treasure, we have abundantly received
For the greater purpose of the Lord, on whom we have believed
It breaks my heart to transfer title, on all that I suppose was mine
But I hear my Master calling, so I concede and so consign
All the precious stuff I’ve coveted, and worked so hard to own
I lay now upon the altar, as a pledge to God alone
For I know that where my treasure is, there my heart shall also be
And where better to invest it, than in what lasts eternally
By Frank Carpenter ©

Reflections on Easter Week

2008-03-20T05:45:00.001-06:00

Well, if you’re into religious holidays, this is certainly a red letter week. We had Palm Sunday last weekend. St. Patrick’s Day was on Monday. Today is Holy Thursday, followed by Good Friday and Easter. And, of course, we have April Fools Day just around the corner. Religious holidays, while good reminders of the truth, can often cloud it as well. We are so easily distracted by the food, the fun, the ritual and social aspects of any holiday that it’s easy to leave God out of such a day - even a religious event. All celebrating, church services, egg dying and palm waving aside, I would like to redirect our focus to the person of Jesus Christ, whom we truly celebrate this week. This is the week that dozens of prophetic scriptures were fulfilled through His triumphal entry into Jerusalem (Palm Sunday), his eating of the Passover (the Last Supper), His betrayal, His mock trial, His death on the cross, and finally His resurrection. We must remember, amidst all the other hoopla, that Jesus is the Son of God, that He actually lived, actually died for our sins, and actually rose from the dead. If any of those facts are untrue, then everything else we celebrate this week is pointless and we might as well sing our hymns to the Easter Bunny. If we do not accept Jesus as our Savior and Messiah, then we are all April Fools and that would be the only relevant holiday. Let us come back to the person of Jesus Christ. A lot of dramatic and public things happened during this, the last week of His life. However, I am most deeply moved by that quiet moment after the Last Supper, and just prior to His betrayal, when Jesus knelt in the garden of Gethsemane and prayed. In that scene of anguish and compassion I most clearly see the Son of God choosing to suffer and die for us personally. Easter is a time to celebrate God’s victory over death through the resurrection, but the foundation of that victory is His great mercy and the sacrifice of His only Son on behalf of an undeserving world. If you have further interest, I have pasted below a partial list of prophesies fulfilled by Jesus during the final week of His life. Have a happy Easter and don’t be an April Fool.

Gethsemane
Jesus knew his time was drawing near
On the eve of that final day
With the weight of the world upon his heart
He came to the garden to pray
He alone knew His Father’s will
And understood His redemption plan
And though He was truly God incarnate
Still, He was fully a man
He knew that pain and suffering
And betrayal were moments away
As He pleaded with God and wept He knew
There simply was no other way
There, in the garden, that fateful night
With the lights of the city in view
Jesus, the Son of God, considered
All that He must go through
The tears of His sorrow freely flowed
That night in Gethsemane
For He understood his path must lead
To the cross at Calvary
He was Christ, the Lord, the King of Kings
Yet, He knelt upon human knees
And willingly chose that night to die
Because of His love for you and me.
By Frank Carpenter ©

Partial list of Prophesies Fulfilled During the Final Week of Jesus’ Life:
Triumphal entry in Jerusalem on a donkey Zechariah 9:9, Mark 11:7–8, John 12:13–15
Betrayed by a friend Psalm 41:9, Mark 14:10, 43–45
Betrayed for 30 pieces of silver Zechariah 11:12, Matthew 26:15
Betrayal money returned for a potter’s field Zechariah 11:13, Matthew 27:3–10
Accused by false witnesses Psalm 27:12, Matthew 26:60–61, Mark 14:57
Offers no defense Isaiah 53:7, Matthew 26:62–63, Matthew 27:12–14
Struck and spat upon Isaiah 50:6, Matthew 26:67, Mark 14:65, John 19:1–3
Hated without reason Psalm 109:3–5, John 15:24–25
Soldiers divide His garments and gamble for His clothing Psalm 22:18, Matthew 27:35
Pierced through hands and feet Zechariah 12:10, Luke 23:33, John 20:27
Executed with malefactors Isaiah 53:12, Mark 15:27–28
Agonized in thirst Psalm 22:15, John 19:28
Given gall and vinegar Psalm 69:21, Matthew 27:34, 48, John 19:29
No bones broken Psalm 34:20, John 19:32–36
His side pierced Zechariah 12:10b, John 19:34
Buried with the rich Isaiah 53:9, Matthew 27:57–60
Deserted by His followers Zechariah 13:7, Mark 14:27,Matthew 26:56
Resurrection Hosea 6:2, Psalm 16:10, Psalm 49:15, Luke 24:6–7
Ascension to Heaven Psalm 68:18, Luke 24:50–51, Acts 1:11, Ephesians 4:7–10

St. Patrick's Day

2008-03-17T06:05:00.001-06:00

Well, as we all know, today is St Patrick’s Day. Now I’m not Irish, but if you are, or if you are interested, St Patrick is considered the patron saint of Ireland, meaning that he was essentially a missionary of the Christian faith to that land. For your enlightenment, I have pasted the whole story of St Patrick and the origins of this holiday at the bottom of today’s posting. My question today is this: If you are a believer, what are you the patron saint of? How are you changing your little corner of the world? I think we’re called to be the St Patrick of wherever we are. You can be the patron saint of your family, your school, your work, your neighborhood, an athletic team, a car pool, whatever. It’s unlikely you’ll get your own holiday here on earth, but in the gospel of Luke (chapter 14) he records that, “I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.” That sounds like enough of a holiday to me. Wear green clothes and drink green beer if you must, but let this day always remind you that you might very well be the patron saint of your own little sphere of influence. That is a lofty calling indeed, yet one altogether worth rising to the occasion of. My hope and prayer for you today is that you’ll be able to look back at your life next week, or next year, and see how you may have affected those around you for the better. For whether you like it or not, you are having an impact on the world around you every day. Make that impact count. And while you’re at it, have a happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Origins of St Patrick’s Day
Just like many other holidays in the United States, St Patrick's Day has its origins in ancient times. A young boy named Patrick lived in the British Isles, a land that had been invaded and conquered first by the Romans and then by Germanic tribes. Patrick was captured and taken as a slave from the British Isles to what is now Ireland. He lived there for several years herding sheep. He was a religious boy and he prayed that he would someday return to his homeland. Legend has it that one night while he was praying, a voice told him to escape from the farm, and find a ship that was waiting for him two hundred miles away. Patrick got to the ship, sailed to Europe, and disembarked in what is now probably France. He led several of the ship's crew through a dangerous forest, praying all the time. Neither Patrick nor any member of his crew was captured. When some of the men were about to die of starvation, wild animals appeared for them to eat. Events such as these appeared to be miracles and gave rise to later legends surrounding Patrick. At home, Patrick felt that he was called by God to perform an important mission. He believed it was his duty to go back to Ireland and convert the Celtic people to the Christian religion. Patrick arrived in Ireland and became a missionary, traveling from village to village and talking about his faith. Once, several members of a tribe approached Patrick and told him that they found it difficult to understand and believe in the Holy Trinity. Patrick thought a moment, then stooped down and picked one of the plentiful shamrocks growing wild around Ireland. "Here are three leaves," he said, "yet it is one plant. Imagine the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit as each of these leaves. Here they are, yet they are one plant." The tribesmen understood, because Patrick had used a familiar object to explain. From that time on, the shamrock has been a revered symbol of Ireland. Stories of Saint Patrick, for by then he was a saint, reached far and wide. His most famous feat is forcing the snakes out of the entire country of Ireland. Even though there are many different stories about how he accomplished such a task, it is probably not true. St Patrick died on March 17 and the Irish people set aside the day to mourn. He became the patron saint of Ireland. Mourning turned to commemorating him and celebrating his life. Americans have inherited this custom. On St Patrick's Day in the United States, millions of people celebrate whether they are Irish or not!
From: http://inventors.about.com/library/inventors/blstpatricksday2.htm

His Only Son

2007-12-17T12:25:00.000-06:00

Well, we’re right in the midst of that season where our time, money and energies seem to be consumed by everything but the true meaning of Christmas. So I take the liberty of offering the following poem, which is actually a rather true story about one late night in my own parenting past. It was one of those amazing moments when what you know and what you feel suddenly collide with a staggering eternal truth. My prayer for you this season is that you may have a similar experience and that, if only for a moment, all the glitter and commercialism will fade away and the true wonder of that first Christmas comes shining through for you. That’s the moment when all the presents and parties and trees suddenly cease to matter and you come face to face with the Jesus whom God sent to us on that first Christmas day. Merry Christmas to all!

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.” John 3:16

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

A Thankful Heart

2007-11-21T13:15:00.000-06:00

Just a quick wish to all for a happy Thanksgiving. Take time to celebrate and cherish relationships during this long weekend and make the effort to express gratitude to all those who have played important roles in your life. Today I offer a Thanksgiving grace which I wrote during the best of times and with the best of people. May you have a blessed holiday weekend with safe travel, wholesome feasting, and amazing time with those who will share your table. Let us also not forget that the original Thanksgiving was all about thanking God for His providence and blessing. Each of us, regardless of their situation, still has much to be thankful for so count those blessings and share them with others.

Thanksgiving Grace
For what we are about to receive
And all of the blessings You give
May we be thankful to Thee, Lord
This day, and each we live
Thank You for this meal, oh Lord
And for the loved ones who are near
Please watch over those we care about
Who could not join us here
As we recount our blessings
And the honor that You are due
We give thanks, oh Lord, this special day
And all our praise to You
By Frank Carpenter ©

Out of the Ashes

2007-11-08T13:53:00.001-06:00

I live in southern California, which was so recently ravaged by multiple wild fires. Having experienced that terrible smoke-filled week has given pause to reflect upon what was lost, what was saved, and the plight of so many neighbors and fellow citizens in the midst of disaster and its aftermath. Our hearts go out who those who have suffered loss and pain and I continue to keep them in my prayers. My words can but little console them, but my hope is that, as an extended community, we will see to their immediate needs and offer the support they need to begin again. My own heart was drawn back to the Laguna Beach fire of 1991, which struck closer to my own home, family and friends. At that time, as is so oft the case, I responded with a poem. So I take the liberty of offering those thoughts today. When disaster strikes it often sharpens our emotions and priorities and compresses the time available to consider them. Those are the times when we instinctively make choices regarding the true value of all that surrounds us. On that fateful night, as I rushed out of the house to assist others in greater need, I observed my young children packing their wagon with their most precious possessions. I will never forget that image. The fact is that disaster, even impending disaster, forces us to prioritize and we can’t help but wonder what each of us might pack into our own wagon when the time comes to choose. In the end, however, stuff is merely stuff and only people really matter. As you consider your own wagon load of priorities, I hope and pray that you’ll pause to thank God for what and who you have … and all those things that may not even be worth saving.

Out of the Ashes
When disaster rears its terrible head
and the flood or the fire is near
When there is only time to save a few things
and we race to do so in our fear
Suddenly, all of our values
and the value of what we possess
Are redefined during the crisis
in the light of our plight and distress
Then the treasures that we have hoarded
through the years are left strewn on the floor
Dumped out to make room in the boxes

for the things which mean so much more
Photos and trinkets long forgotten

are dragged from dusty their nooks
To be carefully packed with precious things

price and comfort are overlooked
Gold and silver and stones expensive

are discarded for mere strings of beads
Which have no market value but

somehow, fulfill more emotional needs
When, at last, we can tarry no longer

we rush with loved ones and pets in arms
To havens of safety or higher ground

and out of the path of harm
And count ourselves fortunate, after all

in the light of that terrible cost
Even there, in the face of disaster

merely thankful for lives not lost
We gaze into the eyes of our loved ones

of family and friends who are near
Knowing well that the house can be replaced

losing people is what we fear
For insurance can never replace them

so if they are safe we can get by
All of the other things pale in value

though they might bring a tear to one's eye
As we go back to sift through the ashes

of the homes that were filled with our lives
We discover our greatest possessions

are our children and husbands and wives
Certainly hindsight reveals a thousand things

which we might have carried away
But there is no reason to torture ourselves

we've no choice but to wake up each day
And thank God that our friends and our family

were spared from that terrible foe
For often disasters are not so kind

as each of us in our hearts knows
So as we survey the path of destruction

and add up the weight of its cost
Let us pause to thank God for His mercy

Gone But Not Forgotten

2007-09-25T13:01:00.000-05:00

Some thoughts today on the cherished memories of some men who have departed my life during the past few years. We all deal with loss and pain in different ways and my system for processing complicated emotions is to write about them. This works for me because I am a slow thinker of sorts and use the retrospective tool of creative writing to wander through my memories and thoughts and make sense of them at my own speed and in my own time. Part of that process is the revisiting of specific themes and events to repaint them through the dearly bought wisdom of hindsight. Since my thoughts eventually congeal into the written word it has also been rewarding to discover that many others have used my writings to help sort out and communicate their own experiences as well. In a sense, it’s a gift that keeps on giving.

To that end, I offer today’s poem which I wrote some months ago on the anniversary of the passing of a dear friend’s father whom I was close to as well. Incidentally, he passed away during his stay at a convalescent home where my own father had lived for some time as well. Yes, it’s a true story and I really did write the poem while sitting the little patio at that facility. I hope some of you may find some relevant solace or wisdom in my words or pass this on to others who may have need of it. I also encourage readers call, write or visit those in their own lives who may be in just a situation. Remember, that you are the owner, caretaker, and defender of your memories and sometimes they need a little maintenance as well.

Gone, But Not Forgotten
I stopped by the convalescent home for a little while today
Where I paused to sit and think a spell, since it was on my way
I’ve had no one to visit here, these past twelve months or so
But that doesn’t seem to matter like it did a year ago
Because I still cherish memories of those who once dwelt here
Which I intend to honor with the passing of the years
I must confess their tenure here was bittersweet at best
As a final, unforgiving stop before they were laid to rest
Restless they, and sick those men who once resided here
When I came to visit them in hopes of offering some cheer
And while the passing time diminishes the acuteness of their loss
Each week brings some small memory to remind me of the cost
Associated with their passing, in wisdom or camaraderie
Or wealth of anecdotal wisdom, wrapped up in my own history
For when we lose a friend or father or some special relative
We lose a puzzle piece of life which only they could give
Time tends to heal the pain of loss and sweeten cherished memories
Yet sometimes we need to ponder them as I have through this reverie
Which brings me back to this place, where old friends have passed away
Gone, but not forgotten … as I’m reminded here today
By Frank Carpenter ©

Vessel of Prayer

2007-09-07T14:45:00.001-05:00

Today I offer something simple which occurred in my personal life recently. I’ve started a new job with a bit of a commute and the rest of this true story is self explanatory so I’ll just let it speak for itself. These are the little moments that make all our efforts seem worthwhile and bring a touch of the divine to our simple existence. I can only hope and pray that you may so blessed as well.

Vessel of Prayer
I have a travel coffee mug
That I fill at home each day
To drink while I commute to work
Lest I grow tired on my way
An unpretentious little vessel
Of plastic and stainless steel
Yet, today it seems as solid gold
And holds new-found appeal
Since last night as she washed my cup
My dear wife let me know
That each day as she washes it
She prays for safety as I go
She thanks God for the drive I make
And for the work I do
And asks Him to watch over me
While I’m away the whole day through
I was dumbfounded by her statement
By the beauty of her words
As they expressed the sweetest sentiments
Perhaps that I have ever heard
That humble little travel cup
Filled with but fluid days before
Has now become a vessel
Of prayer … and so much more
As I’m off to work again
With my mug of steaming tea
I have assurance that I’m truly loved
And God is watching over me
By Frank Carpenter ©

Taking the Bait

2007-09-01T09:26:00.000-05:00

Today’s musings grew out of a fly fishing trip I was on recently. As I stood on the bank of a river in the Sierras casting my line, it struck me how much we have in common with the very trout I was attempting to capture. The brightly colored artificial flies we employ in such an activity provide a thought provoking metaphor to the counterfeit lures in our own lives which so easily ensnare us in the nets of temptation. Any man or woman who is serious about living a righteous and honorable life, and staying true to their faith, ought carefully to consider the subject of temptation, and fishing promises to offer some valuable insights thereto. Temptation begins with natural and often necessary desires. All living things eat and reproduce and it is inherent in their nature to do so, just as it was for the trout who were my chosen quarry and inspiration for this line of thinking. As humans, we have those same basic desires, compounded exponentially by our more complicated lives and innumerable opportunities. However, let’s keep it simple for now. The fly fisherman uses a fly constructed from thread and feathers to emulate an actual insect. He then completes the illusion by employing a rod and line to deliver the fly to the fish in such a way as to make it appear and act as natural and appetizing as possible. Of course, the goal of all this deception is to deliver a hook to the hungry fish, so as to facilitate its eventual demise. And so it goes in the realm of human temptation as well. The angler, the quarry and the bait have all been upgraded, but the game remains the same … and the stakes are significantly higher.

As we swim through our own daily lives, we are bombarded by a steady stream of temptations, each constructed and delivered with a cunning which more than rivals the most` gifted of human anglers. In this crazy modern world of advanced technology, media and illusion we can scarcely be too careful about what bait we are willing to take, and wise is the person who steps carefully through the choices available in the seemingly endless labyrinth of options and opportunities. They may look like food, love, power, beauty or security. They may promise to satisfy. But you can bet that, more often than not, there’s a hook in them. I daresay some folks will take offense at being compared to a fish. My only response to them is, well, to compare them to ostriches. Any way you slice it there’s something fishy going on and I beg you to heed my words if you don’t want to end up in the proverbial, or perhaps literal, frying pan.

I hope and pray that you may choose wisely as you swim through the waters of life.

Taking the Bait
Casting in the quiet waters of a mountain stream today
I got to thinking on the devil, and how he has a way
Of selecting just the perfect fly to offer each of us
And how skillfully he throws his line so as not to shake our trust
He knows our every weakness, and the perfect time of day
To dangle his temptations and let them drift our way
Is it power? Is it money? Is it sex that we desire?
Satan has the perfect counterfeit, any angler would admire
And he doesn’t throw them at us, merely lets them float nearby
So we can see how beautiful they are and warm up to the lie
As we fantasize about them, well beyond the second look
And even once we take the bait, he doesn’t set the hook
Until it’s good and swallowed, buried deep within our hearts
Then he slowly tightens up the line and the real battle starts
Even if we extricate ourselves from sin that day
There is always damage from the hook inflicted on the way
Then Satan merely changes flies, ties on another sin
Casting more skillfully than ever, and the game begins again
Like foolish fish we play our part, and some folks never learn
They wind up in the frying pan and know what it is to burn
So as we swim through life today, we must be vigilant and wise
Lest we fall prey to the evil one … by striking on his flies
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Unforgiving Minute

2007-08-02T22:49:00.001-05:00

Life is an endless series of moments, of minutes if you will, and many of them come with choices to make. They will consist primarily of small, seemingly insignificant choices, but some will turn out to be life changing ... even life defining. The secret, therefore, to living a life of honor, value and significance lies in the management of those choices. For every choice counts and move us in a particular direction. I love the end of Rudyard Kipling’s classic poem “If” which concludes with the words:
“If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds worth of distance run
Yours is the world and everything that’s in it
And, what is more, you’ll be a man, my son”
That “unforgiving minute” can take many forms, but as the sands of the hour glass slip through our fingers we must make decisions which will betray our true selves and shape our destiny. Regardless what we have said about ourselves or our beliefs, those choices we make moment to moment shall tell the story of our lives. Like gentle adjustments in the wheel of a ship, they direct our course and even seemingly minor corrections can make the difference between a safe passage and a disaster. There are potentially bad choices which we can back away from or easily correct, yet some will come along which must be bourn for a lifetime. So let us choose carefully, lest the unforgiving minute should catch us unawares. Let us seize each moment, each minute, and make it count.

The Unforgiving Minute
It matters little what folks think
Or how we compare with the rest
In the end, a man must prove himself
When it comes his time to test
For there are moments in each life
When words are simply not enough
When the mettle of a man is tried
And life will call his bluff
Then he finds himself come face to face
And standing all alone
Before the things he fears the most
And his true character is shown
When all his days and months and years
Shall finally culminate
In the unforgiving minute
Which is dealt each man by fate
That moment when he proves himself
To be either false or true
To that which he has long professed
And stood for hitherto
That single unforgiving minute when
His whole lifetime comes to bear
Showing him, at last, triumphant
Or pitching him into despair
Is the moment each man dreams of
And the moment each man fears
The sudden, unforgiving minute
Which defines him all his years
By Frank Carpenter ©

For the Glory

2007-07-23T22:32:00.000-05:00

Once again I find myself in the company of folks who are wallowing in seemingly overwhelming adversity in their lives. Some are dealing with cancer and such physical maladies while others have become burdened by emotional and relational stress. Either way, I found myself pondering today’s poem. The bible promises that “all things work for good for those who love the Lord,” but that can be difficult to remember in the midst of adversity. So I offer these words to all who so need comfort in their trials today.

For the Glory
I’ve asked myself why a hundred times
And I’ve asked God a hundred more
How could he allow us to suffer so?
What purpose could this be for?
But the Lord doesn’t always explain things
In a manner which makes sense to me
So I have learned to put my trust in Him
In His counsel and sovereignty
He has promised all things work for good
And that He will be glorified
But it’s hard to see the glory
Through all the tears that I have cried
However, I know that the glory
Is shining somewhere up ahead
Somewhere just beyond my troubles
And we can trust in what God has said
So each day I search for the glory
In the trials that come to me
And they don’t seem so difficult to bear
In the light of eternity
By Frank Carpenter ©

Memorial Day

2007-05-28T09:46:00.000-05:00

Today is Memorial Day. This is the day each year when we, as a nation, celebrate the mortal sacrifices of our service men and women who have lost their lives in defense of this great nation. The exact origin of this tradition remains a little unclear, but it certainly grew out of the Civil War and some type of official celebration began shortly thereafter. At first it was Decoration Day, when the graves of fallen soldiers were decorated to honor them. Then it seems to have grown from there. For those of you interested in such history, I have pasted below what seems to be the actual history of Memorial Day for your further reading. At this time, however, I only wish to encourage any who read these words to remember those who have paid the ultimate price for the freedoms we all enjoy. Remember, also, that brave American men and women are out their risking their lives at this very moment on our behalf. I will not here endeavor to engage anyone on the politics of our current conflicts overseas, except to state our countrymen have died there and continue to live in harm’s way so they, both the living and the dead, deserve all of our honor, respect and support. Today is the day to hang up your flag, to say a prayer, perhaps even make a phone call or write a letter to those who have lost loved ones … or live daily with the fear thereof. Please don’t let this day pass without some act or thought of patriotism and gratitude. To that end, I offer the following poem in honor of those who paid the ultimate price for this great nation and our personal liberties.

Song of Freedom
Still ringing are the battle cries
Of freedom from the past
Sung out by brave young men who spilled
Their blood and breathed their last
Still waving is the flag
They proudly served and held aloft
Yet, we must be ever wary
Lest our resolve grows dim and soft
Our children need to know the legacy
Of freedom which is theirs
As the gauntlet passes on to them
For they are freedom's heirs
Sons and daughters of a liberty
Which was born of trial and strife
Paid for dearly by the countless men
Who gave both limb and life
We must keep the fire burning
May we never let it die
So our children's children's children
Know the sound of freedom's cry
It's not enough to just be born here
We have to guard our liberty
And pass it on so generations
In the future will be free
By Frank Carpenter ©

Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day, is a day of remembrance for those who have died in our nation's service. There are many stories as to its actual beginnings, with over two dozen cities and towns laying claim to being the birthplace of Memorial Day. There is also evidence that organized women's groups in the South were decorating graves before the end of the Civil War: a hymn published in 1867, "Kneel Where Our Loves are Sleeping" by Nella L. Sweet carried the dedication "To The Ladies of the South who are Decorating the Graves of the Confederate Dead" (Source: Duke University's Historic American Sheet Music, 1850-1920). While Waterloo N.Y. was officially declared the birthplace of Memorial Day by President Lyndon Johnson in May 1966, it's difficult to prove conclusively the origins of the day. It is more likely that it had many separate beginnings; each of those towns and every planned or spontaneous gathering of people to honor the war dead in the 1860's tapped into the general human need to honor our dead, each contributed honorably to the growing movement that culminated in Gen Logan giving his official proclamation in 1868. It is not important who was the very first, what is important is that Memorial Day was established. Memorial Day is not about division. It is about reconciliation; it is about coming together to honor those who gave their all.

Memorial Day was officially proclaimed on 5 May 1868 by General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, in his General Order No. 11, and was first observed on 30 May 1868, when flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery. The first state to officially recognize the holiday was New York in 1873. By 1890 it was recognized by all of the northern states. The South refused to acknowledge the day, honoring their dead on separate days until after World War I (when the holiday changed from honoring just those who died fighting in the Civil War to honoring Americans who died fighting in any war). It is now celebrated in almost every State on the last Monday in May (passed by Congress with the National Holiday Act of 1971 (P.L. 90 - 363) to ensure a three day weekend for Federal holidays), though several southern states have an additional separate day for honoring the Confederate war dead: January 19 in Texas, April 26 in Alabama, Florida, Georgia, and Mississippi; May 10 in South Carolina; and June 3 (Jefferson Davis' birthday) in Louisiana and Tennessee.
Traditional observance of Memorial day has diminished over the years. Many Americans nowadays have forgotten the meaning and traditions of Memorial Day. At many cemeteries, the graves of the fallen are increasingly ignored, neglected. Most people no longer remember the proper flag etiquette for the day. While there are towns and cities that still hold Memorial Day parades, many have not held a parade in decades. Some people think the day is for honoring any and all dead, and not just those fallen in service to our country.
Information from : http://www.usmemorialday.org/backgrnd.html

Integrity

2007-05-10T08:05:00.000-05:00

Did you ever wonder how some people can do certain things that you wouldn’t even dream of doing because those things just aren’t right? Or have you noticed the way some men or women seem to become comfortable with worse and worse choices over time. Chances are that others may even have had similar questions about yours or my actions from time to time. Most folks aren’t born dishonest, but in the course of making a series of poor choices they tend to come more easily over time. When we observe those who seem to tumble over the dark edges of integrity more closely, we discover that it is usually more of a slide than a fall. One careless step is taken at a time, but those small steps pave the way for the inevitable ethical fall from grace which has become so prevalent in our culture. Outright theft begins with petty larceny. Infidelity begins with impure thoughts and soft porn. Small lies grow into larger ones. The list goes on and on. Indeed, our lives are a constant series of tiny choices, each of which helping to determine our direction. And, in the end, direction determines destination. When we make an honorable choice, our lives travel ever so slightly in that direction. The same is true with our less honorable choices. It’s all about trajectory. Each of us has a conscience. The more we exercise it, the stronger and more defined it becomes. However, when we neglect or abuse it, it becomes impotent over time. A little fudging now and then seems like it wouldn’t hurt. Sure, everyone drives a little over the speed limit and cheats some on their taxes. It always starts small, but once we discover how easy it is to bend the rules, we begin to assume that all the lines of morality are elastic in nature. From there it’s a short trip downhill. We have all known folks who have taken that downward spiral and it is rarely becoming. The real danger is that if you dance around the edge of the quicksand for too long, you’ll eventually end up neck deep in it ... and then it can be too late to save you. Those better choices we have the opportunity to make each day can have an impact on our lives as well. They make us better people, better citizens, better parents, better human beings. Isn’t that who we want to be? Isn’t that the legacy we want to leave for our children and grandchildren? Let us consider carefully, therefore, all those little choices we make during the course of each day and make absolutely sure that they lead us down the path of integrity. That is where we want to end up, and no one leaves this world regretting an honorable life.

Integrity
So often we can justify
any action we might take
We bend the rules far beyond
the point where they should break
Defending actions wholly
unacceptable, in fact
Except, of course, if it is us
who perpetrate the act
At first, we start with little things
misdemeanors and white lies
Then, as our character erodes
we see with different eyes
Overlooking more and more
until we barely see
What would have been so crystal clear
when we had more integrity
But as the sediment builds up
within a person's heart
He discerns his actions differently
than he did back at the start
He discovers that the world owes him
a little something more
And finds himself involved in things
he never would have long before
But another creature has evolved
from the one he used to be
With a conscience worn and twisted
and without integrity
It didn't happen overnight
indeed, the change is slow
As he discards a host of values
which were cherished long ago
We all fudge when it's convenient
and cheat a little, what's the harm
As long as no one seems to care
and we cover it with charm
But every time we cross the line
we drag it just a bit
Until we can't remember where it was
or why we needed it
Then we reach a point where honor
has no value or appeal
And a man who has no honor
is a man who's free to steal
Who can justify his actions
to himself so easily
Once he has ground off all the teeth
of his own integrity
And each of us is wandering
somewhere along that road
Making moral choices every day
which can build or can erode
And he, who chooses wisely
proves himself a man indeed
For he confirms that he is more
than just a slave of greed
The road will fork uncounted times
throughout each man's history
But the sweetest destination
lies down the path of integrity
By Frank Carpenter ©

Seaside Solace

2007-05-01T21:47:00.001-05:00

I have had occasion of late to revisit the subject of grief. Since I am no stranger to that bitter friend it often figures prominently in my own writings, whether they involve my personal experiences or those shared with others. My most recent foray down the more difficult side of memory lane led me to some observations which had not previously occurred to me. I wrote those previous three sentences several hours ago, intending to explore this subject and conclude with the poem below entitled “Seaside Solace,” which I penned after my father’s passing a few years ago. Strangely, just as I sat down this evening complete these thoughts I received a phone call informing me that my father’s oldest and dearest friend had passed away last week. This comes as a somewhat disconcerting coincidence, in the very midst of my little essay on grief. I suppose, at the very least, that it serves to make my words all the more poignant this evening. So among other things, this will serve as a tribute to Lou Pappan as well.

As I mull over this most recent turn of events, we will return to the point of my original observations. In times of grief we tend to turn to areas of passion in our lives to help us deal with heartache and pain. We find comfort in that which we find most familiar, especially if those things are natural stress relievers for us. Each of us is wired differently so we tend to respond to varying occupational therapies. Some folks look to music or art, others to exercise or reading. Some people crave relationship while others seek solitude to work out their feelings. It can come as no surprise that grief, like so many other issues, drives me to write. That is because I think slowly and find it comforting to work out my feelings on paper. I believe it was the author E.M. Forester who once wrote, “How can I know what I think until I see what I said?” Those words capture beautifully the therapeutic value of the written word for those like me who use it to come to terms with their own thoughts and feelings. My heart is also deeply wrapped up in the ocean, which I find to be utterly relaxing and inspirational. No wonder, then, that after my own father’s passing I found myself down at the shore penning the words of the poem which I offer you today. Perhaps it can be a comfort to others as well.

In closing, I encourage each of you to consider carefully what your areas of passion and interest are. These are the things to turn to when you have need of comfort in your own life. Sometimes it helps to have our hands or minds occupied while God is working on our hearts. Even when there seems to be no joy we can still find peace through our passions. I wish you all the best today and encourage you to send this on to others if you know people who could use these words of comfort. I also leave you with a photo from my own recent beach wanderings.

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 ©

Just One Kiss Away

2007-04-16T00:30:00.000-05:00

Last weekend we had the wonderful experience of attending our niece’s wedding. In fact, they had even asked me to recite a poem as part of the service. The real purpose of today’s entry is to share that poem and make it available for the family. However, I would also like to take this opportunity to explain why this particular poem came so easily to me and why it was such a pleasure to compose. James and Danielle, the bride and groom, are both mature young people who share a strong and saving faith in Christ. I believe with all my heart that such a foundation is the only sure thing to build a life upon. They also come to their nuptials without the inordinate quantities of relational baggage so many folks seem to begin with, but they also engaged in extensive pre-marital counseling just to make sure they knew exactly what they were getting into together. Their relationship is built upon a lifetime of wise choices that will serve them well throughout the years to come. James and Danielle are just the kind of people who give you hope for the future and rarely have I walked out of a church feeling better about a couple or their prospects.

So this is for James and Danielle. We wish you all the best for your life together and the brightest future imaginable. May your marriage serve as a beacon of light and love to others for all of your years to come.

Best Wishes,
From Uncle Frank

Just One Kiss Away
James and Danielle, what a pleasure it is
To stand up here with you today
And to have observed as God drew you together
In His own remarkable way
You have known each other for such a long time
Yet God in His infinite wisdom knew
That though you were destined to be together
He wasn’t quite finished with either of you
So He sent you both into exile
To let you grow and mature apart
While He put the finishing touches
On each of you and readied your hearts
Then, in God’s perfect timing
He brought you back home once more
To the old, familiar neighborhood
Where you had known one another before
And where you rediscovered each other
In the light that maturity brings
Kindling a whirlwind romance
That soon grew into a beautiful thing
It didn’t take you long to determine
That your love was meant to be
And that the Lord had brought you together
To be joined in matrimony
Which brings us to this afternoon
As we have gathered together here
Before the Lord, your friends and family
And all of the people whom you hold dear
To celebrate all that God has done
And witness the vows that you
Are making to one another today
As you begin your lives together anew
May you honor each other always
Strive to live in an understanding way
Speaking the truth in love and grace
Willing ever to kneel and pray
May you be patient, kind and forgiving
Through the inevitable struggles and trials
Learning to trust one another completely
And trusting in God all the while
And may the Lord’s hand of blessing
Rest upon you throughout the years
While you face the adventure of life together
That lies just down the aisle from here
As you go rest assured that you carry
Our fondest hopes, prayers and wishes today
Into your happily ever after
Which is now just one kiss away
By Frank Carpenter ©

Reflections on Easter Week

2007-04-05T11:29:00.000-05:00

Well, if you’re into religious holidays, this is certainly a red letter week. We had Palm Sunday last weekend. Today is Holy Thursday, followed by Good Friday and Easter. And, of course, we had April Fools Day. Religious holidays, while good reminders of the truth, can often cloud it as well. We are so easily distracted by the food, the fun, the ritual and social aspects of any holiday that it’s easy to leave God out of such a day - even a religious event. All celebrating, church services, egg dying and palm waving aside, I would like to redirect our focus to the person of Jesus Christ, whom we truly celebrate this week. This is the week that dozens of prophetic scriptures were fulfilled through His triumphal entry into Jerusalem (Palm Sunday), his eating of the Passover, His betrayal, His mock trial, His death on the cross, and finally His resurrection. We must remember, amidst all the other hoopla, that Jesus is the Son of God, that He actually lived, actually died for our sins, and actually rose from the dead. If any of those facts are untrue, then everything else we celebrate this week is pointless and we might as well sing our hymns to the Easter Bunny. If we do not accept Jesus as our Savior and Messiah, then we are all April Fools and that would be the only relevant holiday. Let us come back to the person of Jesus Christ. A lot of dramatic and public things happened during this, the last week of His life. However, I am most deeply moved by that quiet moment after the Last Supper, and just prior to His betrayal, when Jesus knelt in the garden of Gethsemane and prayed. In that scene of anguish and compassion I most clearly see the Son of God choosing to suffer and die for me personally. Easter is a time to celebrate God’s victory over death through the resurrection, but the foundation of that victory is His great mercy and the sacrifice of His only Son on behalf of an undeserving world. If you have further interest, I have pasted below a partial list of prophesies fulfilled by Jesus during the final week of His life. Have a happy Easter and don’t be an April Fool.

Gethsemane
Jesus knew his time was drawing near
On the eve of that final day
With the weight of the world upon his heart
He came to the garden to pray
He alone knew His Father’s will
And understood His redemption plan
And though He was truly God incarnate
Still, He was fully a man
He knew that pain and suffering
And betrayal were moments away
As He pleaded with God and wept He knew
There simply was no other way
There, in the garden, that fateful night
With the lights of the city in view
Jesus, the Son of God, considered
All that He must go through
The tears of His sorrow freely flowed
That night in Gethsemane
For He understood his path must lead
To the cross at Calvary
He was Christ, the Lord, the King of Kings
Yet, He knelt upon human knees
And willingly chose that night to die
Because of His love for you and me.
By Frank Carpenter ©

Partial list of Prophesies Fulfilled During the Final Week of Jesus’ Life:

Triumphal entry in Jerusalem on a donkey Zechariah 9:9, Mark 11:7–8, John 12:13–15
Betrayed by a friend Psalm 41:9, Mark 14:10, 43–45
Betrayed for 30 pieces of silver Zechariah 11:12, Matthew 26:15
Betrayal money returned for a potter’s field Zechariah 11:13, Matthew 27:3–10
Accused by false witnesses Psalm 27:12, Matthew 26:60–61, Mark 14:57
Offers no defense Isaiah 53:7, Matthew 26:62–63, Matthew 27:12–14
Struck and spat upon Isaiah 50:6, Matthew 26:67, Mark 14:65, John 19:1–3
Hated without reason Psalm 109:3–5, John 15:24–25
Soldiers divide His garments and gamble for His clothing Psalm 22:18, Matthew 27:35
Pierced through hands and feet Zechariah 12:10, Luke 23:33, John 20:27
Executed with malefactors Isaiah 53:12, Mark 15:27–28
Agonized in thirst Psalm 22:15, John 19:28
Given gall and vinegar Psalm 69:21, Matthew 27:34, 48, John 19:29
No bones broken Psalm 34:20, John 19:32–36
His side pierced Zechariah 12:10b, John 19:34
Buried with the rich Isaiah 53:9, Matthew 27:57–60
Deserted by His followers Zechariah 13:7, Mark 14:27,Matthew 26:56
Resurrection Hosea 6:2, Psalm 16:10, Psalm 49:15, Luke 24:6–7
Ascension to Heaven Psalm 68:18, Luke 24:50–51, Acts 1:11, Ephesians 4:7–10

Second Chances

2007-03-29T08:21:00.000-06:00

For any of my readers who might have wondered, I write most of my poetry longhand in small leather-bound books that are just the right size to fit in my pocket. Along with poetry, I also take notes, make lists and fill the pages with all manner of jotting, doodling, etc., including card game scores, Christmas lists and movie times. Thus, these books each represent a snapshot of my life at any given moment. A little over five years ago I inadvertently left one such book in my trouser pocket and it went through the washing machine. Needless to say it ended up fairly mangled. However, I salvaged it as well as possible and laid it up on a shelf to dry. Low and behold, I rediscovered that little book this past weekend and also discovered that it was a time capsule from the most difficult period of my entire life. Back in the end of 2001 we learned, rather abruptly, that I had serious heart disease and I was thrust into some very frightening hospital stays which resulted in two rounds of angioplasty. Since I was just over forty, even the doctors were surprised by my condition and we had to make a lot of emotional adjustment to some shocking medical realities. By the way, I’m much better now so I will digress no farther on that part of the story. At the same time, my father was being diagnosed and treated for what turned out to be a life-ending condition and my brother was going through a difficult divorce. Needless to say, my little book of notes, poetry and commentary captured that period in my life with several months in either direction for perspective. How strange it has been during recent days to pry the mangled pages apart and attempt to decipher the events and meaning from that stage in my life. Which brings us to today’s poem.

I know it’s March so I beg you forgive me for offering a poem today which is entitled, “What I got For Christmas.” This is a poem about second chances and the perspective which comes from facing life-threatening issues. It also serves as a reminder that we have no guarantees in life. In fact, we’re all terminal … some folks just have a lot more time than others. Most of us tend to live life like we’ll definitely make it to a ripe old age, and most people do. The problem is that none of us can be sure who might turn out to be an actuarial anomaly. The important point here is that when we find ourselves thrust into such dreadful situations most of the details of life that take up so much of our energy suddenly matter very little, while faith, family and friends come rushing to the forefront of our priorities. On the faith front, let me just say that only a saving faith can provide eternal fire insurance. For more on that aspect of my commentary, I encourage you to Google my other poem, “Brimstones and Chicken Bones.” Please don’t wait until you’re sick to tell your spouse and children how you feel about them. Then set out to prove it every day. The same goes for friends and extended family.

Clearly, I’m a big fan of second chances. However, when you get one it reminds you that not everyone does, so we need to live our lives in such a way as to have no regrets. Get it right with your family, do your business with God and be thankful for each day as it comes. Again, I apologize for using a poem with Christmas in the title during the spring, but this message found me and I felt compelled to share it at this time. Have a wonderful day … and make it count.

What I Got for Christmas
I already have my gift
For Christmas time this year
God gave it to me early
Knowing Christmas day was near
What I received is priceless
Something I could never buy
God gave me a second chance
When He could have let me die
Through the valley of the shadow
God brought me mercifully
Showing me what matters most
He gave the opportunity
To better understand the value
Of the people I hold dear
To reconsider my commitments
And why He placed me here
When I awake on Christmas morning
Hug my children and kiss my wife
That alone will be gift enough
Because I love my life
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Knowledge of Good and Evil

2007-03-23T23:44:00.001-06:00

I am reminded, as I write, of the 1956 Alfred Hitchcock movie with the title, “The Man Who Knew Too Much.” Upon reflection, that actually describes most people as well. I recently re-read the beginning of the book of Genesis and was intrigued by the original sin of Adam and Eve and the fall of mankind. In that ideal environment they basically had one negative command: Don’t eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil … or you will surely die. It seems simple enough. All they had to do was enjoy all the fruits and wonders of creation in an idyllic garden setting and leave one tree alone. However, they just couldn’t do it. They were deceived by Satan (the serpent), they ate the fruit, and the party was over. That familiar situation invites all manner of commentary and theory, but I wish only to dwell upon one issue today. Clearly good and evil existed, even then, or there would be no such tree. Adam and Eve were basking daily in the good of creation and relationship with God. The wise creator most likely understood that their lives would be far better if they could remain blissfully ignorant of evil. However, rather than hide it from them like a parent with child-proof cupboards, He merely commanded them to avoid evil. I think we were created, at least originally, for good. Thus, when we partook of that cursed tree it perverted and corrupted our existence. We didn’t need to know all the details of evil and that very knowledge is what separates us from the holy God. We live in a world brimming with the knowledge of good and evil, which manifests itself throughout our various modern forms of media. Evil not only exists, it actually seeks us out and forces itself upon us. Without belaboring that point, let me simply say that even as a relatively clean-living man I have inadvertently seen and heard enough evil to last three lifetimes. It is that knowledge, much like computer viruses, which infects our minds and serves to drive a wedge between us and God. For there is not room in our hearts and minds for both God and the conscious knowledge of evil at any give time. Thus we are, in a very real sense, the men who know too much. Worse yet, that knowledge is like a cancer that slowly eats away at our integrity, nobility and moral character. The concept of “you are what you eat” applies in the area of experiential knowledge as well. We are what we hear and see. Or, at the very least, we are in the process of becoming so. What can be done? God offered us a cure in the person of Jesus Christ, who is the antidote to evil. He erases our transgressions, pays the price of our sins and paves the way for a renewed innocence which allows us to once again approach the throne of a holy God. Knowledge of Jesus comes from the bible and through prayer.

If you feel your life slipping in the wrong direction or feel that you might not be turning into the person you had hoped to be, a good place to begin would be to consider the knowledge of good and evil and whether you have forbidden fruit in your own life. If that is the case, it might be time to chop down whatever trees bear such fruit and search for the tree of life instead. Don’t be “the man who knew too much.” There is a better man in you waiting to be discovered, one who knows what needs to be known and abhors what should be left unknown. I think a great filter to test the content of our media input is found in the bible in Philippians 4:8. It reads as follows: “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.” That’s a good start. So I leave you today with the following poem which grew from this very subject. Remember that you control what flows into your heart and mind and that will determine the trajectory of your life.

The Knowledge of Good and Evil
Long ago, in the Garden of Eden
there stood two particular trees
The first one was the tree of life
where Adam and Eve ate as they pleased
But the second tree was forbidden
as was the fruit it bore
The tree of the knowledge of good and evil
God declared they should abhor
Of course, we all know the story
Eve was deceived and Adam as well
They ate the forbidden fruit and sinned
and that is how mankind fell
It was the knowledge of good and evil
which a holy God could not abide
And it separated God from man
who felt ashamed and fled to hide
The knowledge of good and evil
was far more than man needed to know
It robbed us of our innocence
thus God had forbidden it so
Worse yet that dreadful knowledge
which has brought us so much strife
Robbed us of those blessings
we could have known from the tree of life
So it is in this present world
where knowledge of good and evil abounds
Mercilessly pursuing us
from wherever it may be found
And if we allow our hearts and minds
to be filled and poisoned by
The knowledge of good and evil
something within us begins to die
For that is the fruit of rebellion
which the holy God counts as sin
And it cannot be tolerated by
the Holy Spirit who dwells within
If we are to know the tree of life
and the blessings God bestows
Then we must chop down the forbidden tree
in our hearts before it grows
For man was never intended to know
or have such ready access to
The knowledge of good and evil
as our God understood and knew
We were designed for higher purposes
intended for nobler thoughts
And our hearts only respond to God
when we partake of the trees we ought
If we desire to eat from the tree of life
and God’s blessing and power know
We must ask the Lord to cleanse us
of that knowledge He abhors so
We must turn from the forbidden tree
and the darkness which it brings
To fill our hearts with the word of God
fill our minds with loftier things
Only then can we enter God’s presence
or begin to discern His perfect will
Yet we must ever keep our guard up
against the knowledge which beckons still
It’s been the bane of human existence
since that day of original sin
But Jesus shattered its power upon the cross

gave us power not to give in
So when we hear the serpent whispering

all those same delectable lies
Let us flee from the knowledge of good and evil
Lest we’re tempted to compromise
By Frank Carpenter ©

Shell Seeker

2007-03-10T09:44:00.000-06:00

I am reminded this morning of an old image that my wife and I have always cherished. Once upon a hazy morning by the seaside I sat for an hour or more observing as my daughter, who was quite young at the time, gathered shells and shiny stones by shore. It was a time of reflection set in the midst of a busy period of work and parenting. On that particular morning all she wanted to do was wander aimlessly along the sand and collect the assorted natural trinkets which generally only have value to a child. Yet, as I watched her I began to realize how little many of my own material desires and possessions were really worth. Indeed, we adults squander much of our lives collecting and paying for trinkets which, in the larger picture, are as worthless as the bucket of shells my daughter was so proud of. She, in her own childish way, saw the beauty in the simplest objects in nature and I daresay that they brought her more joy than much of what I had worked so hard to purchase. I learned a valuable lesson that day, through the wisdom of child whose capacity for joy and wonder greatly exceeded my own.

Such moments have helped to slowly bend my own value system so that I better understand what really matters in life. There are times when I am driven to sacrifice for the wrong things and work too hard to keep up with the Jones’. Then I try to remember the great wisdom of a little girl who understood true beauty and who taught me that the world is filled with shiny stones whose value is often unrelated to their price. I can only hope that you have had someone young enough and wise enough in your own life to teach you such lessons … and that you were willing to listen. May your day be filled with the wonder of simple things.

Shell Seeker
Down where the water meets the sand
She wanders happily
In search of shells and stones
And other treasures from the sea
Each prize borne in a bucket
Swinging from her tiny hand
As I watch my young shell seeker
Finding treasure in the sand
She takes me back to sea shores
And lazy mornings long gone by
When I combed the shore for treasure
With the same look in my eye
And I realize that nothing
I have bought with what I've earned
Has more value than her treasures
And it's high time that I learned
To stop, from time to time
And hear the waves upon the shore
To feel the wind upon my face
And be a shell seeker once more
By Frank Carpenter ©

We Must Take Them

2007-03-03T15:48:00.000-06:00

There is clearly something in our make up which causes us to respond to nature. Whether the majesty of a mountain, the beauty of a sunset or the intricacy of the smallest flower, we were born to appreciate the wonders of creation. As an increasing number of our fellow humans beings live out their existence in the midst of urban and suburban sprawl they begin to lose touch with the out of doors. I refer, of course, to the real outdoors that was planted by God rather than the landscaping of sculpted niches of open space so many people have access to. I live in a place where it seems nearly tropical because so many palm trees have been planted, but that can hardly be considered when most of those trees emerge from tidy uniform holes in the concrete sidewalk. Indeed, no matter how much we advance our civilization or progress technologically we humans still have an inherent need for wilderness experiences of one kind or another. Some folks live in areas adjacent to the wilderness. However, for most of us it takes a little more effort to really get outdoors. Yet, when we finally do, we usually discover it was well worth that effort.

I believe that effort is even more important in the case of our young people. Indeed, children can’t set their own schedules or provide their own transportation so they are at our mercy from the standpoint of outings and vacations. Both as a father and a Scout leader I have had the privilege of getting young folks outdoors and seeing how they respond to it. Modern kids of all ages now live in a world of increasing technology and mounting pressures to perform in and outside of the classroom. Throw in cell phones, television, radio, mp3 players and such other distractions and you end up with an entire generation of young folks who have become unaccustomed to the therapeutic value of wilderness experience. We have to take them out of the noise and distraction of the city for them to appreciate what it means to enjoy the peace and quite of nature. In fact, the very term “peace and quiet” tends to lose its reference point when we don’t get outdoors. Nowadays, that phrase is more liable to conjure up thoughts of napping on the couch with the television off. Yet, those who know better understand that there can hardly be any substitute for the sound of a waterfall or wind in the pines, or the reflection of mountains on a lake. The song of a few common birds or three crickets in the side yard can hardly compare to the symphony of a twilight forest. No, we were made to be outdoors. Certainly, I don’t suppose that we should all live in teepees or caves. I merely mean that we need to get out of our homes and apartments from time to time and visit the places where animals still run free and the sun sets over a hill instead of city skyline or housing tract. It is our sacred responsibility as adults and mentors to be sure that the children in our sphere of influence are immersed in the wonders of creation face to face … which is the only true high definition, surround sound experience. For let me be clear: the Nature Channel is not really nature, nor is the Discovery Channel truly discovery. Those are videos of other people being outdoors. Our children need see the outdoors for themselves, but they cannot do so alone, and they will not do so without our leadership and inspiration. We must take them.

We Must Take Them
We must take our children
Out of town and out of doors
To the forest and the mountains
The desert and the ocean shores
We must take them into nature
Let them feel and hear and see
All the wonders of creation
It’s our responsibility
To ensure that children understand
The world we all must share
They should experience its beauty
So that they learn to care
For the creatures and the places
Which are still untouched and wild
This is among the greatest gifts
That we can give a child
For to know the open spaces
And to breathe the open air
Is to understand creation ...
But we must take them there.
By Frank Carpenter ©

To Be There, Reflections on Valentines Day

2007-02-14T00:27:00.000-06:00

Well, here we are at Valentines Day once again. As I ponder this strange little holiday we share it comes to mind that we often miss the point in the area of love and romance. I certainly appreciate any opportunity to celebrate with and about the special people who share our lives with us. We celebrate monthaverseries, for heaven’s sake. However, a night of flowers and candy is hardly to be considered love in the big picture. True love is wrapped up with longevity and relationship. We’ve grown so accustomed to the Hollywood version of being “madly in love” one minute and then suddenly no longer in love. For the record, that is not love. That is lust, or infatuation at best. If you can truly call something love it must stand the test of time. I had occasion in the midst of some errands last night to visit some important venues from the annals of my own love life which brought this point home to me. First I drove by the bench where my wife and I first kissed some 26 years ago. Then I wandered through the courtyard of the church where we were married and down past the swings on the beach where we seemed to end up at the close of many a date. Those simple, yet special, places represent important chapters in the history of our life together. We recently celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary and that was another important milestone. In my opinion that kind of history is how we can measure the depth of love. In much the same way real love also has a future as well. Along with shared memories come shared hopes and dreams and plans which constitute a defined romantic trajectory. In the end, love is really just two people who are mutually attracted and committed and traveling through life … together. Far too often when I hear people say, “I love you” it seems like what they really mean is, “lie down, I think I love you.” Clearly folks have a tendency to squander those precious words far too hastily. Love means being there through the good and the bad and the happy and sad and whatever life brings us.

By all means, buy flowers and cards and candy. Go out to dinner and take a long walk under the stars. However, I feel with all my heart that we should find a way to live like that all year long. The real wonder of love, after all, isn’t found on the inside of a greeting card. On the contrary it lies in sharing the big blank page of life and writing our stories upon it together. May you have a happy Valentines Day, but let it be the launching point for the deeper kind of love which goes the distance. I close today by offering a poem I wrote for my own Valentine some years ago. The sentiments still hold true … as does my heart.

To Be There
Just to be there is all that I ask for
When the sun dips its head in the west
When the sapphire day is smiling
That is my only request
To be there when you laugh for no reason
Or you stare at the stars in the sky
All that I ask is to be there
To see the light that shines in your eye
To be there when you listen to music
Or you wander outside in the rain
I simply want to share these things
Just to be there again and again
All that I ask is to be there
When the storms of life darken your way
To offer a shoulder for you to cry on
Hold your trembling hand when you pray
All that I ask is to be there
Just to share in what life has to give
Just to be there and to be together
For to be there with you is to live
By Frank Carpenter ©

God Be With You

2007-02-12T20:49:00.000-06:00

Allow me, if you will, to wax somewhat parental. I came across today’s poem recently, which I wrote in church the first Sunday after we dropped our youngest off at college for her freshman year. Now, in her third year, she’s off to study for a semester abroad in Europe and I find that these same sentiments still hold true. All the more so as our oldest is now married and has settled out of state … which is fine. As parents, we do the best we can for the time allotted and then we have to nudge them out of the nest so they can soar on their own. That is a difficult time for many parents. Yet, after all, our job isn’t to raise kids to be kids, but to be adults. So by definition they ought to leave that nest, get out of Dodge, and learn to live on their own. That’s the goal. We’ve been blessed with great kids who have earned our trust and their own freedom, thereby making the whole process much less painless because we don’t have quite so much to worry about. Our personal philosophy has always been that our children were just on loan from God anyway, making the parenting process more an issue of stewardship. So, now that they’re grown we turn them over to God and trust that He will watch over them when we are unable to. This approach gives us a great deal of peace about the situation. Maybe you’re not in our particular stage of life. However, most of us have relationships that span across some distance and sometimes we just have to trust that God is watching over our loved ones; whether they are climbing stairs or mountains, driving golf carts or stock cars, drinking water or whisky, teaching or learning. Whatever their varied situations, they are beyond our control and often beyond our assistance as well. We think of them fondly, we write and call, we pray for them. Yet, when those whom we care about are far away we must trust them to the tender care of the One who is ever with them. That’s when a few simple words bring a world of peace and comfort … may God be with you.

God Be With You
As I sat in church this morning
Without you by our side
I must admit, I’m a little sad
But also filled with pride
I’m excited for your brand new life
Though it is far from me
Because it’s the life God chose for you
Filled with opportunity
So though you are not with us
In our old familiar pew
I know wherever you may be
God will still be there with you
By Frank Carpenter ©

Lest Ye Be Judged

2007-01-15T15:52:00.000-06:00

We all tend to be rather opinionated, myself included. In fact, if you’ve been reading this site, it’s obvious that I may well be the prince of opinioned. It is with a humble heart, therefore, that I urge us to consider together the subject of judging others. It seems to be human nature to judge. Try this experiment: Ask anyone you know about someone else and listen to their answer. You will almost certainly get an earful of judgments, even if they are minor. We are usually so quick to point the finger at others, yet upon closer examination we may be guilty of the same things, or worse. In a world of self-righteous finger pointers, we have need of men and women of integrity who are willing to examine their own lives more closely. Little effort or thought is required to speak harshly of another. However, the greater challenge is holding ourselves to a higher standard for the purpose of setting an example. Far better, sometimes, to hold our tongues and let our actions speak for themselves. Then, when we absolutely must speak, our words will carry all the more weight. Here, I defer to the expert who wrote the instruction manual on human living. In the book of Matthew, Jesus said the following: “Do not judge so that you will not be judged. For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you. Why do you look at the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, `Let me take the speck out of your eye,' and behold, the log is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye.” (Matthew 7:1-5) I think that about covers it. Let us, therefore, live well and refrain from speaking too hastily about others ... lest we be judged by our own standards.

Lest Ye Be Judged
Judge not, lest ye be judged
What others may say or do
For as you apply your standard to them
So it shall be measured to you
Where I find fault with another man
So fault shall be found with me
Each word I utter in judgment raises
My own responsibility
Judge not, lest ye be judged,
Show mercy as you would be shown
We dare not sit in the judgment seat
Which is reserved for God alone
Heap not the burning coals of wrath
Upon your own foolish head
By hastily judging another man
On what he has done or said
For all have fallen short of the mark
And failed by some degree
So what right have I to judge a man
Who is no more a sinner than me
Each man will have to answer to God
When he meets the Lord face to face
So rather than judge another man
Show grace as you would know grace
By Frank Carpenter ©

His Only Son

2006-12-22T10:07:00.000-06:00

Well, there’s time for one last Christmas poem before the big day rolls around. On a more pensive note, though, today is actually the 2nd anniversary of my father’s passing in 2003. I had intended to write on that subject, but we’ll get right down to the season because that is the message that folks are looking for about now. Perhaps I shall return to reflect thereon after the holidays. However, I have taken the liberty of choosing a father/son story to finish out my poetic Christmas suite for this year. The following poem is actually a rather true story about one late night in my own parenting past. It was one of those amazing moments when what you know and what you feel suddenly collide with a staggering eternal truth. My prayer for you this season is that you may have a similar experience and that, if only for a moment, all the glitter and commercialism will fade away and the true wonder of that first Christmas comes shining through for you. That’s the moment when all the presents and parties and trees suddenly cease to matter and you come face to face with the Jesus whom God sent to us on that first Christmas day. Merry Christmas to all.

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.” John 3:16

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

Christmas Stories

2006-12-13T17:57:00.000-06:00

As we march headlong toward the holidays I wanted to follow up on my movie review of The Nativity Story with a poem about the other Christmas stories which abound at this time of year. Movies and assorted Christmas specials clog the theaters and airways, bombarding us with imaginary themes and a host of animated fictional characters offering various takes on the holiday. Most of us grew up on those characters and they may even hold a special place in our hearts. The catch is that they also cloud the true Christmas story and crowd its message to the side. These characters are the emissaries of a commercialized Christmas which has no resemblance to the original story or meaning. I encourage you, my fellow citizens to sort through the available Christmas stories in search of the truth. If it’s only about snowmen and reindeer and elves and presents, then we’re the merely the victims an organized subliminal conspiracy by retail empires who hope to make us feel merry … and therefore generous. However, a rudimentary etymological consideration of the word Christmas reveals that its root word is Christ. I believe that is the point. It’s not “Elfmas” or “Rudolfmas” or “Giftmas,” but Christmas, and those first six letters make all the difference. My hope and prayer for you this season is that you may rediscover the wonder of THE Christmas story. Then share it with your children and friends and family.

Christmas Stories
There are so many Christmas stories
Oh how we love to hear
The way the children's snowman came to life
We applaud those flying reindeer
And the way they pull the sleigh
We love jolly old Saint Nick and his dear wife
Who could ever overlook
Those darling little elves
And all the magic things that they can do
We watch aghast with horror
As that mean old Mr. Grinch
Tries to steal Christmas morning from the Whos
Adults and children just alike
All gather 'round the tube
To watch what they've seen many times before
The characters of Christmas
Come in every shape and size
So easy to believe in and adore
But there's another Christmas story
That our children need to hear
You've heard it and you probably know it well
The plot is not as colorful
Nor are the characters
Yet, it's the one we really need to tell
Remember how in Sunday school
You learned about the Christ
Who came to cleanse the world of its sin
They told you all you had to do
Was open up your heart
And Jesus would forgive you and come in
On Christmas day we celebrate
The birth of Jesus Christ
Who came to earth to save both me and you
He's the only Christmas story
That you really need to know
And the only Christmas story that is true
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Nativity Story

2006-11-30T20:47:00.000-06:00

Earlier this week I had the pleasure of attending an advance screening of The Nativity Story. I found this film to be very enjoyable and highly recommend it because it delivers just what it promises. What’s in a name? Since this movie is meant for everyone I began by looking up the word “nativity” in the dictionary to be sure it meant what I thought it did. No surprises: 1. the birth of Jesus Christ, which is celebrated by Christians at Christmas. 2. an artistic representation of the events surrounding the birth of Jesus Christ. That about covers it. I like this film because it seems to give an accurate portrayal of the events surrounding the birth of Christ, which is the original Christmas story, in a fairly unbiased way. The basic plot follows the text of the New Testament accurately, while tastefully adding the personal drama and character development which were necessary in order to make the story in to a feature length movie. This is the area where many religious movies fall flat, but in The Nativity Story it works flawlessly. That is because the producers let the main characters remain the simple and humble people that they actually were and refrained from adding social or denominational commentary. The Passion of the Christ, for example, contained a great deal of Catholic imagery which was not in the New Testament text and which I believe detracted from the story for others. You won’t find any of that here. Rather, the addition of the personal drama adds to the story and draws the audience into the emotions which were most likely experienced at the time.

Some evangelicals who are eager for a hard-hitting gospel message will be a little disappointed by The Nativity Story. However, that will be the result of their own expectations rather than the actual movie. This isn’t a movie about a controversial Jesus, his message or his death. It’s a movie about his historical birth and the events surrounding that time, as recorded in the gospels. The story is told from several personal perspectives. The wise men, who actually play too large a role, lay the scientific and prophetic foundation. Herod gives us a glimpse of the Roman occupation and what the threat a new Jewish king and messiah would pose to that empire. Against these two backdrops, along with painstakingly created sets and locations, weaves the personal story of Mary and Joseph, beautifully portrayed by Keisha Castle-Hughes and Oscar Isaac. They are simple and ordinary people drawn by God into the extraordinary miracle of the Hebrew messiah’s long foretold birth. I personally feel that throughout the story their personal interaction with God, one another, and their society stays true to the heart of the gospel text and message, even though many of the details are necessarily fictional.

In the final analysis, I highly recommend The Nativity Story. It retells the true Christmas story in a tasteful and sensitive manner, taking care to deliver the whole message without tainting it with any kind of agenda. This isn’t just a show to see with church groups and Sunday school classes because it’s meant to be enjoyed by everyone. In a world of video and special effects, The Nativity Story offers a valid way to retell this beloved story to our children and truly bring it to life for them. Yet, it also offers the opportunity for all of us adults to fall in love again with the message and the miracle of Christmas. So I encourage you to start the season off right by seeing The Nativity Story. Sharing it together is, perhaps, the best early gift you can give to your friends and loved ones.

“But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.” Luke 2:10-11

More info at http://www.thenativitystory.com/ and in the Gospel of Luke, chapters 1-2

Origins

2006-11-27T08:24:00.000-06:00

Well, it’s been a while since I stuck my scientific foot in my religious mouth so today seemed like as good a time as any. Throughout this long holiday weekend I’ve been in Colorado with family and have had the opportunity to observe countless Canadian Geese coming and going as they stopped along their migration route at a local lake. This served as a reminder that the whole concept of long distance migration is just one of the thousands of miracles in nature which I feel science has failed to explain adequately. This brings us to a poem I wrote recently about a subject of personal passion, but first I suppose that full disclosure is in order. OK, I’m one of those narrow-minded religious people who believes that maybe a God created everything. Now, before you change channels on me it must also be noted that those who tend to disagree with me are often even more narrow-minded and less willing to discuss the subject. I challenge you, therefore, to lend me you ear (or eyes) for a few moments of consideration.

Those who cling doggedly to the concept of evolution often seem to be missing the answers to many of its most critical questions. I think we would all agree that the stronger lion or the faster fish has a better chance of survival and is likely to pass on its potentially superior genes to the next generation. Maybe that causes a species to improve and change a bit over time. That’s called microevolution, where existing forms change through time. The problem occurs when a fish becomes a lizard or lizard becomes a bird. There are some huge gaps in the theory for that process, especially when we infer that the fish will eventually become a monkey and then a man. That is called macroevolution, or the changing from one thing to another completely different thing. Worse yet, back the clock up however many billion years you like to believe and we have no explanation of how life began to start with. Here’s how current evolutionary theory works in my over-simplified idiot layman’s terms: First there was nothing. Then it exploded. Then that nothing which had previously exploded sprang to life. Then it eventually became us. Call me crazy, but I think that takes a lot more faith than believing in a God who created things. You judge for yourself.

The fact is that the earth, and the myriad of complicated systems it contains, is too perfect. Furthermore, our own bodies are chockfull of organs, electrical impulses, chemical reactions and interactions, and complimentary and mutually dependent systems to have simply happened by accident, in my humble opinion. My extensive experience with things which have happened by accident leads me to believe we didn’t “just happen.” The human body contains somewhere between three and three hundred trillion cells, all of which seem to know exactly how to form, what to do, and when. Please tell me that’s not a miracle. I’m sorry, but the “how” seems so overwhelming that I must conclude that there might be a “who” involved.

Well, I’ve wandered way beyond the few moments I asked for today so let me leave you with a final thought. Take a look at the facts for yourself and see if they all add up. If you see any possibility of intelligent design or direction, “the Force,” or what some scientists are beginning to concede as “dark energy” then I propose that we need to consider the possibility of a creator. If there really is a creator, or a God, then that changes everything about our existence and even our possible purpose for existence. I’m simply not satisfied with being the most recent monkey design in the evolutionary chain … and I hope you aren’t either. If you have any questions or comments about this subject, feel free to email me at the address on the top of this page. In the mean time, I offer the following satirical poem for your consideration. Feel free to share it with others in order to stimulate additional conversation on this subject. Oh, and enjoy your accidental day at the top of the food chain.

Origins
The finer points of astrophysics can be difficult to understand
First there was nothing, then it exploded, that’s how it all began
Then one rock in particular began to orbit around our sun
Somehow covered itself with water, but the story wasn’t done
For over the course of millions of years, though it’s difficult to believe
Proteins and amino acids combined and simply began to breathe
Then that little glob of life, which had made itself somehow
Found a way, of course, to reproduce … before you know it, holy cow
It grew into bacteria, or some other odd pond scum
Then evolution kicked in, and that speck both deaf and dumb
Grew gills and guts and gonads, a stomach, heart and skin
Eyes and ears, a mouth, a liver, a brain and even fins
It spawned a thousand different species, then ten thousand more
Then grew some legs and lungs and finally crawled up on the shore
It had some kids with snake skin and some more with feathers too
And some cousins on whose heads a bit of hair eventually grew
Of course, the hairy ones were smarter so they made fire and tools
Which they held with opposable thumbs, and used to build new schools
With their lofty knowledge, developed in such institutions
They fired God and then began to worship evolution
So let’s recap the story of our origins and history
First there was nothing, then it exploded, then it began to breathe
Developing complex systems by accident, ignoring laws of entropy
Nothing turned into something and evolved, somehow, into me
And here I am at the top of the food chain, evolution’s lofty pedestal
The pinnacle of natural selection, lacking any purpose or soul
So don’t you tell me about creation, since I’m nobody’s fool
Evolution has to be true … because it’s all they teach in school
By Frank Carpenter ©

A Thankful Heart

2006-11-23T09:12:00.000-06:00

I would simply like to pause this morning and wish my readers a happy Thanksgiving. This is traditionally an American holiday, but the concepts it is based upon are universal. In fact, one of the most important traits we could wish for is a thankful heart. We live in a world of unreasonable expectations and entitlement and so many folks seem to feel that the world, that life, and that even other people owe them something. We tend to focus on what we don’t have or what we’re missing in life instead of what we have already been blessed with. There’s nothing wrong with hopes and dreams and plans, or being motivated. However, the secret to happiness isn’t having what you want. Rather, it is the priceless gift of wanting what you have and that is the result of a thankful heart. Today is the perfect day to take a step back from your unrequited expectations and simply thank God for what you already have in your life. Your spouse and your children, your friends and even your odd relatives, all need hear that you are thankful for them, that they are enough. Today is the day to enjoy and appreciate what and who we have. The fact is that if you’re not happy with your relationships, possessions, health, prosperity or family at this time, it’s unlikely that a change in circumstances will satisfy you. Want what you have, be thankful, and you may surprised how your perspective on life will come around.

In closing, and back on the subject of Thanksgiving, I offer heartfelt holiday wish to you and yours. Remember to be thankful … and to express it to those you love. As a literary offering today, I give a poem by my personal favorite poet, Edgar A. Guest.

The Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving
(Edgar Albert Guest, 1881-1959)
It may be I am getting old and like too much to dwell
Upon the days of bygone years, the days I loved so well;
But thinking of them now I wish somehow that I could know
A simple old Thanksgiving Day, like those of long ago,
When all the family gathered round a table richly spread,
With little Jamie at the foot and grandpa at the head,
The youngest of us all to greet the oldest with a smile,
With mother running in and out and laughing all the while.
It may be I'm old-fashioned, but it seems to me to-day
We're too much bent on having fun to take the time to pray;
Each little family grows up with fashions of its own;
It lives within a world itself and wants to be alone.
It has its special pleasures, its circle, too, of friends;
There are no get-together days; each one his journey wends,
Pursuing what he likes the best in his particular way,
Letting the others do the same upon Thanksgiving Day.
I like the olden way the best, when relatives were glad
To meet the way they used to do when I was but a lad;
The old home was a rendezvous for all our kith and kin,
And whether living far or near they all came trooping in
With shouts of "Hello, daddy!" as they fairly stormed the place
And made a rush for mother, who would stop to wipe her face
Upon her gingham apron before she kissed them all,
Hugging them proudly to her breast, the grownups and the small.
Then laughter rang throughout the home, and, Oh, the jokes they told;
From Boston, Frank brought new ones, but father sprang the old;
All afternoon we chatted, telling what we hoped to do,
The struggles we were making and the hardships we'd gone through;
We gathered round the fireside. How fast the hours would fly--
It seemed before we'd settled down 'twas time to say good-bye.
Those were the glad Thanksgivings, the old-time families knew
When relatives could still be friends and every heart was true.

Somewhere Beyond

2006-11-18T12:15:00.000-06:00

My regular readers will not be surprised to discover that today’s ponderings are based upon a sailing metaphor. The undeniable fact is that I love the ocean and derive great pleasure from boating. However, while I speak and write constantly of far horizons and distant shores, I rarely get very far from home. In fact there’s a very clear line I never seem to cross, at least on my own. That point is a local island which lies just the right distance offshore for a weekend away and, like a homing pigeon, I return to it time and again. Other islands call from a hazy distance and beckon to me from the maps I so love to study, but they hover beyond the reach of convenience. Comfortable anchorages, tired crews and Monday morning work schedules always seem to hold me at bay. So we never make it around the point to the next island … or the big wide world which lies beyond it.

I believe most of us have such lines of demarcation in our lives. We love to dream. We love to talk. Yet we never seem willing to round that final point and abandon the safety of familiar shores. Sometimes we can even see the next islands off in the distance, but we know that rougher waters must be traversed in order to reach them. In effect, like many who lived before the time of Columbus, we allow our fear and ignorance to determine the size and shape or our personal worlds. Is there a point in your own life which you can’t seem to cross? It could be geographical, relational, spiritual, vocational, financial or emotional. Do you keep sailing to the edge and turning back, like the coastal navigators of old? Let this be your wake up call. Somewhere beyond that next point of land, shrouded in the dreamlike haze of the unknown, lie the far horizons of the future. They beckon us to brave the oceans of life and set sail to discover them, to plant our flags upon their exotic shores and claim them as our own.

So join me, if you will fellow travelers. It’s high time to haul our anchors up out of the mud, hoist our sails and venture beyond the familiar harbors which we have haunted for far too long. The world is your oyster, and it’s waiting for you … somewhere beyond that last point of land. I believe all that remains to be said is, “bon voyage.”

Somewhere Beyond
Somewhere beyond that point ahead
An open ocean beckons to me
Beyond where no stone or human voice
Taints the broad and trackless sea
One final landmark, one last island
Then this continent will be gone
Thence the ocean, like my dreams
Stretches on and on and on
I hear it singing on the wind
I feel its tugging swell
This sea, the vixen of my soul
Whose voice I know so well
It whispers from beyond the point
Of shores I’ve yet to know
My heart is drawn beyond that point
Where I must someday go
By Frank Carpenter ©

Veterans Day

2006-11-10T00:26:00.000-06:00

Fellow citizens, let us not forget that this Saturday, November 11th, is Veterans Day. I believe this should be one of our most cherished national holidays because it honors those who have served our country in the military. It was originally Armistice Day, set aside to honor those who served in WWI, since that was the first real global conflict and considered the “war to end all wars.” Then WWII came along, which was even bigger and the holiday was expanded to cover it as well. We now recognize Veterans Day as being devoted to all service men and women who have served in conflicts abroad on our behalf. And we continue to be at war, even today. Without belaboring our current conflict or any political ramifications thereof, let me just encourage all my fellow Americans to pause for a moment to reflect upon the service and sacrifice of all those who have fought to defend not only our freedoms, but the freedom of countless others around the world. Let’s thank God for what they have done and let us also, as a nation, pray for the safety and courage of those who are currently serving on our behalf. Ironically, freedom isn’t free ... and this day is set aside for the purpose of honoring those who best understand what the real cost is. I actually began writing today’s poem on Memorial Day but never quite got closure. This weekend, however, when I began to think about Veterans Day, the words finally gelled. If you know someone in the military take the time to write, call or pray for them. If you know someone who served in the past, do the same … and don’t forget to thank them. Veterans Day is a day of mourning and a day of gratitude. It is a day when we remember our obligations not only to our own great nation, but to others who count upon us the world over. Let us be a nation who remembers, and be sure to remind others what day it is and why we celebrate it. If you are interested, you will find below my poem a history of Veterans Day which makes very interesting reading. May God bless America, now and always.

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

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

The Unforgiving Minute

2006-11-04T08:29:00.000-06:00

Life is an endless series of moments, of minutes if you will, and many of them come with choices to make. They will consist primarily of small, seemingly insignificant choices, but some will turn out to be life changing ... even life defining. The secret, therefore, to living a life of honor, value and significance lies in the management of those choices. For every choice counts and moves us in a particular direction. I love the end of Rudyard Kipling’s classic poem “If” which concludes with the words:

“If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds worth of distance run
Yours is the world and everything that’s in it
And, what is more, you’ll be a man, my son”

That “unforgiving minute” can take many forms, but as the sands of the hour glass slip through our fingers we must make decisions which will betray our true selves and help to shape our destiny. Regardless what we have said about ourselves or our beliefs, those choices we make moment to moment shall tell the story of our lives. Like gentle adjustments in the wheel of a ship, they direct our course and even seemingly minor corrections can make the difference between a safe passage and a disaster. There are potentially bad choices which we can back away from or easily correct, yet some will come along which must be bourn for a lifetime. So let us choose carefully, lest the unforgiving minute should catch us unawares. Let us seize each moment, each minute, and make it count.

The Unforgiving Minute
It matters little what folks think
Or how we compare with the rest
In the end, a man must prove himself
When it comes his time to test
For there are moments in each life
When words are simply not enough
When the mettle of a man is tried
And life will call his bluff
Then he finds himself come face to face
And standing all alone
Before the things he fears the most
And his true character is shown
When all his days and months and years
Shall finally culminate
In the unforgiving minute
Which is dealt each man by fate
That moment when he proves himself
To be either false or true
To that which he has long professed
And stood for hitherto
That single unforgiving minute when
His whole lifetime comes to bear
Showing him, at last, triumphant
Or pitching him into despair
Is the moment each man dreams of
And the moment each man fears
The sudden, unforgiving minute
Which defines him all his years
By Frank Carpenter ©

Facing the Giants

2006-10-13T12:07:00.000-05:00

Once again, I’d like to pause and recommend a movie to my readers. If you are a person of faith, then I believe Facing the Giants is a must see. I really enjoyed this film! It's a small movie with a big heart and a very inspirational message. Facing the Giants won't be nominated for any Oscars. In fact, virtually every aspect of production falls below what I would usually expect at the theater. However, it's also an anomaly in that it's an evangelical story that stays true to its calling and wins you over with the heart and message. If you are a Christian who is tired of big budget special effects films and arrogant actors then Facing the Giants is worth discovering. This is the story of a small parochial high school with a losing football team that has also lost touch with their faith-based education and focus. One broken man with a good heart helps the whole school rediscover itself and that transformation plays out on the football field. This is a movie to take your kids and church groups to and I strongly believe that it deserves our interest and support because it serves a higher purpose without making the compromises that Hollywood usually requires for such a story to be told. Facing the Giants has been out for a while, but it's still around in a few theaters and I strongly encourage you to find a theater that still has it playing and take everyone you know out to the movies. In that way, maybe we can keep it playing a little longer. The very fact that this simple, but important, little film is on the big screen is a testament to its title.

Solitude

2006-09-30T20:07:00.001-05:00

I have the good fortune to be staying near Zion National Park this weekend and we’ve seen some amazing country the past day or so. The nature of my current trip is that I get several hours of time alone out in the wilderness each day while my fellow travelers are occupied with other activities. I know some people would dread such time, but for me it comes as a golden opportunity. I crave the wilderness and love a little solitude now and then. Being fairly distractible, I sometimes have trouble relaxing in the midst of my busy life. However, nature relaxes and recharges me. Indeed, I firmly believe that we were designed to respond to the wonders of creation. So I’ve been out hiking, exploring and writing by myself. I even had a nice long nap under a pine tree in the middle of nowhere. We are clearly sociable animals, but we also need to take time away from people occasionally. At this very moment I’m sitting out by a river enjoying the sound of the water. The moon is up and the crickets have just begun their evening serenade. What could be more relaxing or refreshing? These are the kind of moments which calm my spirit and cause me to think more deeply. In this place, at this time of day, the feeling of peacefulness is almost palpable and an overwhelming sense of well being has descended upon me. It’s my favorite kind of feeling. I hope and pray that you may find such corners in your own life to enjoy solitude and I offer one of the poems I penned this afternoon which I hope will provide some inspiration.

Solitude
The world is filled with distractions
And attractions of every kind
Bombarding our senses each waking hour
But where can a man unwind
Where can he flee when his spirit
Longs for a peaceful interlude
When he wishes to keep his own counsel
And find the wisdom of solitude
Then he must flee from the city
Beyond the reaches of men
Beyond the walls of brick and steel
Which enslave his heart time and again
For out in the open spaces
Where only the sound of the wind
Whispers into a man’s weary heart
Can he can hear the still small voice within
By Frank Carpenter ©

Solitude

2006-09-30T20:07:00.000-05:00

Honor and Pride

2006-09-22T18:25:00.000-05:00

We had the privilege last night of attending a graduation ceremony at the San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department Academy, where two young friends of our family have just completed their law enforcement training. Having had no previous exposure to such an event, we were amazed at how meaningful it turned out to be. First of all, I personally felt a little naked, lacking both a uniform and a sidearm. Once I got over that, however, the evening was truly inspiring. When an evening begins with an impressive color guard unit, the national anthem and an invocation which is actually a prayer to God, a patriotic conservative like me can rest assured that what follows will generally be worthwhile. It did not disappoint. What I witnessed was an extremely devoted group of trainers and administrators taking time to honor a class of young men and women who have spent 23 weeks preparing for an important, and often dangerous, career in law enforcement. Their pride, tradition and commitment were evident and offered us a fresh perspective on those who work to protect and serve us every day.

Upon reflection, I have come to realize that our law enforcement officers are some of the truly
unsung heroes of modern society. They got a little extra respect immediately following September 11, having lost many of their own in the World Trade Center, but we continue thank them far too rarely. In the past I have written at length about those who serve in the military, but last night reminded me that those who serve in law enforcement are our neighborhood military, helping to keep the streets safe for all of us. For that service, we all owe a significant debt of gratitude. The keynote speaker at last night’s commencement quoted some previous remarks made by Chief Justice Warren Berger at an FBI academy graduation which I felt were particularly poignant. I was unable to find the exact quotes on the internet, but take the liberty of paraphrasing them. The main point was that a peace officer lives every day upon the front line of the law. In a very real way our government, justice system, laws and national values intersect with citizens through those who serve in law enforcement. They must act on behalf of both the letter and heart of the law, having the unique privilege and responsibility to interpret and enforce that law and the will of people whom they serve. And sometimes this must even be done under fire. Every day we call upon them to make value judgments which affect their lives, the lives of others and the community at large. That is a great deal to ask of any individual. For this, I call upon all my fellow citizens to offer both their appreciation and gratitude.

Perhaps the heart of what I felt last night, and what I also wish to share with others, is best captured by the law enforcement code of ethics which the entire graduating class recited from memory at the close of the ceremony. I offer it below, along with a fond hope that all of us will endeavor to show the appropriate respect which our men and women in law enforcement deserve. So I close today with a heartfelt congratulations to Kyle, James and their entire class of highly trained graduates. We salute your honor and pride.

Code of Ethics
As a Law Enforcement Officer, my fundamental duty is to serve mankind; to safeguard lives and property; to protect the innocent against deception, the weak against oppression or intimidation, and the peaceful against violence or disorder; and to respect the Constitutional Rights of all persons to liberty, equality, and justice.

I will keep my private life unsullied as an example to all; maintain courageous calm in the face of danger, scorn, or ridicule; develop self-restraint; and be constantly mindful of the welfare of others. Honest in thought and deed in both my personal and official life, I will be exemplary in obeying the laws of the land and the regulations of my department. Whatever I see or hear of a confidential nature or that is confided to me in my official capacity will be kept ever secret unless revelation is necessary in the performance of my duty.

I will never act officiously or permit personal feelings, prejudices, animosities, or friendships to influence my decisions. With no compromise for crime and with relentless prosecution of criminals, I will enforce the law courteously and appropriately without fear or favor, malice, or violence and never accepting gratuities.

I recognize the badge of my office as a symbol of public faith, and I accept it as a public trust to be held so long as I am true to the ethics of law enforcement. I will constantly strive to achieve these objectives and ideals, dedicating myself before God to my chosen profession.... law enforcement.

Heart of Oak

2006-09-18T08:01:00.001-05:00

I had occasion this past week to tour the U.S.S. Constitution, the oldest naval vessel afloat in the world. Any of my regular readers will know that I have a soft spot for ships and the sea, but I was especially impressed with this particular American icon. The Constitution was commissioned in 1797, when Thomas Jefferson was president, in an effort to bolster our fledgling navy. She was of a new design and built heavily from several kinds of virgin American oak, almost two feet thick in some areas of her hull. She received the nickname “Old Ironsides” after a battle with a British ship in the War of 1812, during which some of the enemy cannonballs were said to have bounced off her sides. After a long and distinguished career she grew old and nearly rotted out of existence on two different occasions. However, this proud ship seems to have a special place in the collective American heart because she has twice been brought back from near extinction and has just finished yet another complete restoration. Even though the Constitution is a 225 year old sailing ship, it remains on the list of active vessels with the U.S. Navy and still sails once in a while. I believe America loves this old ship because she represents something uniquely American. She was the first full fledged heavy ship of war designed and built in this country and she proved herself superior at a time that our new nation needed such an icon. Now she provides a valuable link with our past, our freedom, and its ongoing preservation.

If you ever have a chance to visit the U.S.S. Constitution in Boston I strongly encourage it, but it’s also easy to Google and read about as well. We have a rich naval heritage and such icons as this ship serve as a valuable reminder thereof. Much of what made her so formidable in her day, and the reason she is so worth preserving now, has to do with what she represents to us as a people. Old Ironsides has been around nearly as long as this great nation and continues to be a valuable part of our legacy of freedom. Also, in times like these when our young men and women are being called upon to fight overseas on our behalf, she serves as a welcome reminder of what they are fighting for. I have several young friends at the Naval Academy and currently serving in our Navy overseas as well. So I dedicate today’s poem to them and to their valued service on behalf of our country at sea and abroad.

Heart of Oak
They have often called her Ironsides
Though she was not iron at all
But oak of North America
And built for duty’s call
To spearhead the fledgling navy
Of these newly united states
And defend their shores and borders
As the keeper of their gates
Constructed by New England craftsmen
Upon their native soil
Which they so recently had won
Through blood and strife and toil
She was the vessel and a symbol
Of their new found liberty
And she never met her equal
In her service on the sea
No enemy by force has ever
Set foot upon her decks
She never knew defeat in battle
Where she earned honor and respect
The U.S.S. Constitution
Still floats proud and tall
An enduring icon from our past
With a message for us all
Peace and freedom come through struggle
And when swirls the battle smoke
Freedom still needs men and ships
With hearts of American oak
By Frank Carpenter ©

You can learn more about the Constitution by clicking on the following link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Constitution

Remembering September 11th

2006-09-11T11:19:00.000-05:00

Today is September 11th, the 5th anniversary of the attack on America. I am in Boston today, the cradle of American freedom and democracy. The tragedy of September 11 was brought home to me yesterday afternoon when we came upon a monument in the Public Garden commemorating the Bostonians who lost their lives on that day, including a list of those names. Here, on the east coast, the loss seems all the more poignant. I have included a photo of part of that memorial herewith. Early this morning, I walked to historic Trinity Church to pray and they, like so many other institutions, are hosting multiple services to honor the fallen we remember today. As I walked back, several planes were flying above the city towing American flags and signs with the words, “We will never forget.” I have written many times before about the military and political aspects of this day and our long term response, but today is simply a day to remember. In order to put its scope into prospective once again, let’s review the casualty statistics once again. Here are how many people we lost at each attack venue:
In the Twin Towers 2595
Flight 11 92
Flight 175 65
In the Pentagon 125
Flight 77 64
Shanksville, Pennsylvania
Flight 93 45

A total of 2, 986 people lost their lives that day. Yet, that is only part of the story. Based upon that unthinkable number, consider how many widows, orphans and widowers were left, along with how many people must have lost sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, grandparents, grandchildren, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends and so forth. The impact to families, congregations, corporate staffs, neighborhoods and the like makes for a staggering set of permutations, not to mention the emotional effect on the rest of us all these thousands of miles away. As we digest those numbers, let us remember that more Americans were killed on September 11th than we have lost in three years of armed conflict in Afghanistan and Iraq combined. As an additional point of reference, only 2, 403 Americans were killed in the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941. However, in stark contrast, the victims of the attacks on September 11th were all unarmed civilians, which makes their mass murder all the more heinous. No, we really should never forget.

The people behind those attacks have also been responsible for the attacks in Madrid bombing and the more recent bombings in England. These people clearly are not satisfied with military targets. They are after you and me and our children and our very way of life. We really cannot afford to forget.

The news and media are abuzz today with special reports and live coverage of memorial services being held in New York, the Pentagon, Pennsylvania and various other locations. Churches are holding services. Signs and flags are up everywhere. In the midst of these tributes let us join together once again to console one another, let us remember … and let us turn to face future threats against us by presenting a united front. We said we would never forget … may it be so.

Tracks

2006-09-07T17:29:00.000-05:00

No matter what we say, no matter how we portray ourselves to others, time always tells the true tale of a man’s or woman’s life. When we, or others, look back over the life we have lead, the footprints we have left behind will reveal much about our lives. I’ve heard it said that hindsight is always 20/20 and there is great wisdom in that statement. We may fool others, we may even fool ourselves, but those who look upon our tracks afterward will see clearly where our paths have actually lead. And, without a doubt, God always knows where we’ve been and what we have done as well. Armed with that knowledge, perhaps we would be wise to reconsider the course of our lives on a regular basis and endeavor to select trails that will produce the legacy we would choose to leave in our wakes. All of us have made our share of poor choices in the past, but every day offers us fresh opportunities to chart a new course ... and the chance to leave a new and better trail behind us.

Tracks
I was walking in the desert
with no living thing in sight
Yet, across the sand were countless tracks
left by creatures in the night
I was struck by the diversity
of the tiny prints I found
From every creature who had recently
crossed that patch of lonely ground
And even with my knowledge
which was limited at best
I could tell much about the animals
with but an educated guess
I could make out snakes and lizards
rabbits, bugs and mice and birds
Guess their speed and their direction
without a book or spoken word
All these things were clearly evident
not hard to see or understand
Like tiny signatures each creature
left upon the empty desert sand
And it comes to mind that each
of us has left a trail too
Surely in the snow or desert
sand or early morning dew
But, more importantly, our tracks
are left upon the life we’ve led
By the things we have accomplished
we have created or we’ve said
Some will leave their tracks in ink
or paint, or notes upon a page
Some will leave impressions made
by acts of kindness or of rage
Some will build and some will plant
throughout their journey here
Leaving tracks on countless strangers
and the people they hold dear
However lightly we may step
upon the sands we cross each day
Our tracks will surely tell the tale
long after we have passed that way
What story will my own tracks tell
when others come upon
My foot prints in the sand of life
once I have traveled on?
Will the direction which they indicate
the pace, the gait, the girth
Point to a life of purpose
one of merit and of worth?
Will they indicate that I’d not
passed this way, somehow, in vain?
That I had left a wake of kindness
rather than a trail of pain
The tracks I want the world to find
are ones that served my fellow man
Tracks that honor what I cherished most
and obeyed my Master’s plan
So I shall choose my steps more carefully
for now I better understand
The kind of tracks I want to leave ...
where once I scurried across the sand
By Frank Carpenter ©

Divided We Fall

2006-08-30T18:51:00.000-05:00

It’s interesting how we always seem to divide ourselves up into various groups. Whether political, geographical, cultural, racial, religious or whatever, folks feel the need to take sides and that’s how we get into the various global pickles like we are in today … and always have been. Divisions are drawn, enforced and invariably benefit the class at the top of whatever system they have created. Not surprisingly, once a system is established, the bias spreads to every group involved. It would be easy for me to cite dark moments in history or spin the globe and point to almost any nation to discuss examples of how we have classified and misused our fellow man. However, today I’d just like to share the following poem and let you see what comes to mind. Certain races, nations and religions seem to have suffered more through the centuries, but we each have our own lens of experience and concern. What I ask is that you think it through, or pray it through if that’s your nature, because simply taking a step back and looking at the world from a different perspective can be half the battle. Where are the walls built in your own life? Where are the lines drawn? Did you inherit them or come up with them yourself? If we consider such questions honestly the world could be a better place … and we owe that to our children. I hope you enjoy the poem and find it thought provoking.

Divided We Fall
Brick upon brick, we build our walls
With blocks of resentment and pride
We raise up lofty barricades
Then, drawing lines, step to one side
Proclaiming we, the elite, shall stand
Over here, where no one else may
We demand that everyone take his place
Or there will be hell to pay
Through the ages we've added more bricks
And a host of new rules to the game
Clouding the issues and stirring the pot
But the outcome is always the same
It is always the group who draws the lines
And imposes them on the rest
Which seems to have the most to gain
And which seems to become obsessed
With making sure that only a few
May have the privileges they have known
For if all men were equal they'd have to share
The spoils they claim as their own
While the rest of humanity cowers outside
Degraded and left in the cold
By a system which robs them of their rights
Crushing even the wise and the bold
Yet, the greatest injustice about the system
Each man has been shackled within
Is the shallowness of the parameters
Which doom him before he can begin
Neither race, nor creed, nor country
Are the sum of any being
They are merely the cover of a book
Which may contain treasures unseen
Any system that judges a man
By his temporal exterior
Has done a disservice to all of mankind
By promoting dissension and fear
For only a system which looks each man
In the eye without judging him first
Is worthy of judging a man at all
Without predestining him to be cursed
So the next time you find a brick in your hand
And you're tempted to work on a wall
Find a bridge that needs repair
And do a service to us all
By Frank Carpenter ©