The Times I Almost Died

The Times I Almost Died

There are those rare occasions when we end up thinking to ourselves, “Whew, that was close!” Most of us have had one or two such moments. As for me, I can think of at least four of those times:  One dicey health scare, and three driving incidents. And in each of the driving ones I was completely surprised and not at fault. The point is that no matter how careful we may be, things just happen, and they are often beyond our control. If we’re fortunate, they turn out to be near misses. When they are, we can be left wondering, “How did that happen?” Yet, with the way my heart and mind work, I’m more likely to ask, “Why didn’t that happen?” Why indeed. And here’s where your world view makes all the difference, because I happen to believe that there is a God who cares about us and has a plan to work things for good. Following that train of thought, if I’ve lived though all those close calls then I’m just assuming that God’s not done with me yet. In fact, I’m pretty sure that once God is done with us, we assume room temperature. So if I’m still here after all those close then I have to believe that I’m here for a purpose, that I should live in such a way as to be available for discovering and fulfilling that purpose. I may not know for certain what it is just yet, but I can still be inclining my heart and life towards God in order to be open to fulfilling it. Sure, I almost died a few times … but I didn’t. So I’m going to make the most of this extra gift of life God bestowed on me … on multiple occasions. Ever wonder why you’re also still here too. Apparently, God has a plan for each of us. Let’s go live it.

The Times I Almost Died

Jesus, why have you kept me here?

When you could have done otherwise

When I swerved too close to disaster

To danger and compromise

When the tires began to lose traction

Or the lines on the EKG

Dragged me to the edge of oblivion

Lord, why did you rescue me?

I can only conclude, my God

That you had other plans in store

That I still wake up every day

Since I was meant for something more

So Lord I offer up my life

And open up my heart

To whatever plan you have for me

I’m ready for it to start

Use me as your instrument

Sweep away my fear and pride

And do whatever you saved me for

On those times I almost died

           By Frank Carpenter ©

Countless, Worthless, Priceless Treasures

I have the good fortune to be married to a woman who understand the intrinsic value of things. She sees the beauty and wonder that God scatters upon the path in front of her, and takes the time to stop and enjoy it, living so much more in the moment than me. One of her favorite pastimes is looking for sea glass and shells when we’re walking on the beach. To her, a piece of polished sea glass is a precious stone. Precious is, after all, in the eye of the beholder. Consequently, we have quite a collection of various detritus from a host of favorite shorelines. That’s just fine with me, because she gets more joy from a rare and perfect piece of sea glass than many other people seem to derive from diamonds or emeralds. I’m not saying that she doesn’t deserve those as well, yet her perspective provides a commentary on how we assign value to the other things in our lives. The richest people aren’t necessarily the ones with the biggest jewels. Rather, they are the ones with beautiful memories and various keepsakes that remind them of those memories. That’s what sea glass is to us. Not so much precious stones as touch stones. This also begs the question of what we fill our lives with … and why? In the meantime, I’ll keep hauling home the pockets full of sandy treasure that my beloved finds joy in collecting. After all, it’s not just about the glass. I think she’s actually collecting joy … and that is a treasure indeed.   

 Countless, Worthless, Priceless Treasures

Wherever the water kisses

The sand, you’ll find her there

Wandering happily down the shore

Wet feet and windblown hair

Oblivious to tide and time

As the lazy hours pass

She scours the shore for shiny stones

And odd pieces of sea glass

Tucking the treasures in her pocket

Whenever they appear

And wandering down the sunlit shore

As she has throughout the years

So we have a vast collection

Of such trinkets from the shore

Countless, worthless, priceless treasures

That she collects and she adores

And why not, we know so many folks

Who pay a fortune for the things

That they think will make them happy

Yet no greater pleasure bring

Perhaps the wisest of us all

Is she who wanders happily

And finds her joy in simple treasures

From the Great Lakes and the sea

          By Frank Carpenter ©

A Rock and a Hard Place

Last week I was just walking from my car to my office when

a small yellow flower caught my eye. It was really just a little weed which had contrived sprout between the asphalt of the parking lot and the cement of the curb. Yet, the instant I saw it and a common phrase leapt into my mind: “Stuck between a rock and a hard place.” How many times have we heard that in reference to people who find themselves in difficult situations? Here was the personification of that phrase blooming just underfoot. I took the attached photo of that brave little plant with the idea that I’d return to the subject and explore it later. I eventually wrote this poem to accompany the photo and I take the liberty to share it with you today. You might ask why I even care about such an undignified little weed, clinging to such and unlikely spot. Well, truth be told, I have several people in my life right now who resemble that flower. The circumstances of life have left them felling like they’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, and they are just trying to find a way to bloom in the midst of difficult situations. Have you ever felt that way, or are you feeling that way even now? Sometimes it seems like life is literally squeezing the life out of us. It could be health or financial issues, family or marriage problems or a host of other things. If you’re there, or know someone who is, I know things can feel pretty overwhelming. I’ve certainly been there myself and I clearly don’t have all the answers, but I do have one answer. Jesus. By all means listen to the doctors, see a financial advisor, confide in wise friends and be willing to seek professional counseling if it’s warranted … and maybe think about praying. It sounds so cliché, but Jesus really does love you. Whoever we are and wherever we gotten ourselves, He’s ready to meet us right where we are and help us through life. Are you stuck between a rock and a hard place? Good news … Jesus knows just what that feels like, and he’s no stranger to that address. So, once again, maybe think about praying. Those first words can be a little awkward, but they open up your heart to the comfort and strength of a loving God. Feel free to reach out to me as well. My email is fcarpenter505@gmail.com . Don’t give up hope, and remember that little flower in the desolation of the parking lot by my office. Even if you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, you can still find a way to bloom.

A Rock and a Hard Place

Sometimes it seems we’re out of options

Like the tide is rising over us

When we’re overwhelmed and feeling hopeless

It shakes our faith and makes it hard to trust

When we find our backs are up against a wall

Drained of joy and peace and even grace

And we can’t see a path to a solution

Stuck between a rock and a hard place

In that moment when we’re lost and desperate

And we can’t imagine there is a way out

Jesus meets us right where we are stranded

To melt away our brokenness and doubt

He bears the burden of the broken hearted

Forgives what seemed so unforgivable

Loves us with a love beyond conception

And pours himself into us till we’re full

If you feel between a rock and hard place

Take heart, friend, and take the time to pray

God will meet you right where you are standing

And walk with you each step along the way

                               By Frank Carpenter ©

Into the Night

Earlier this week I had a night to myself and ended up taking a long walk on one of my favorite beaches. The tide was low so there was lots of beach to enjoy. And it happened to time so that I got to experience the whole transition from the bright of day to the dark of night. It turned out to be one of those perfect moments when everything aligns and you’re just glad to be alive, and be there to enjoy it. Just beautiful. Part way up the trail back to the car I paused to record the moment in the below poem, which I feel speaks for itself. While driving home I reflected upon the experience and was stuck by

the fact that I could have sat in front of a computer screen, or worked in the garage or watched TV for the evening. Instead, I got out and did what I love … and was rewarded with, literally, perfection. In truth, the rest of this week has been a whirlwind of work and meetings and obligations. Yet, because I paused for a few hours on Monday night, everything has been different. I have been different. It’s a reminder that sometimes we get too busy with life to actually stop and live. So this is my reminder to take a little time out and do what you enjoy.

You won’t regret it.

Into the Night

The sun is slipping below the sea

As I wander along the shore

Traversing familiar beaches

As I have so often before

The light fades on the horizon

As nighttime smothers the day

But my steps are sure upon the path

For my heart knows the way

I pause a while upon the trail

Which climbs from the beach below

To etch this moment in my mind

These touchstones I love and know

Just enough orange left in the west

To silhouette the island I love

Just enough thumbnail moon to light

The pale ocean from above

A couple of sailboats creep along

Gliding back to the harbor tonight

Where the bell buoy beckons

With its gong and flashing light

The darkness comes, enveloping me

A chill seeps into the air

The waves roll in contentedly

Washing away all my cares

At last I turn and make my way

Up the path, away from the sea

As the song of the waves begins to fade

A peace descends upon me

       By Frank Carpenter ©

 

Dads, Grandads and Crawdads

During the summer I went on a little field trip with my son and grandson. It was to a familiar little ravine near my childhood home that I hadn’t visited for 50 years. Just a trickle of a waterfall into a muddy pool that time had forgotten, but when I viewed it once again, through my grandson’s eyes, the wonder of my own youthful memories came flooding back. My adult son had been visiting this spot with his kids for a couple of years, coming to catch crawdads with bits of bacon tied to fishing line, and that’s what we did as well. It was pretty darn fun. We filled a bucket with the fascinating creatures, played with them for a while, and then let the whole lot go again before we left. It was strictly catch and release, since it wasn’t the kind of water you would want to dine from. Nonetheless, it was the good old fashioned Tom Sawyer kind of fun that I’m not sure people get enough of these days … the kind of fun that grandpas should have. My son is the master of planning this kind of little adventure that creates fun times, don’t cost a dime and makes awesome memories. I was reminded of how often I’m too busy or distracted to pursue such simple pleasures in life.

And there’s another whole essay to write about how the stubborn crawdads latch onto the bait and let themselves be captured and destined for ruin because they’re too greedy to let go. That has all kinds of application to our modern lives of comfort and distraction. But that can wait for another day. 

In the meantime, let me encourage all of us to step out of our routines and seek out the simple activities that can bring so much joy with so little cost or trouble. We’re always striving for the big, shiny experience that seems to promise the greatest reward. However it’s the little things, the simple things, which often matter so much more in the big picture of life. When I think about such experiences, it’s pretty hard to do better than the classic mix of dads, granddads and crawdads. Besides the fact that it’s just fun to say, there’s pure magic in such a recipe for fun.  

The Coral Street Pier - Revisited

My first date with the love of my life was in June of 1980, an evening that ended with our dancing on a pier in Newport Harbor. Somewhere along the way I wrote a poem about that evening and eventually posted it here in 2004. More recently, I revisited the focal point of that first date once again and took a few moments to reflect on the past 40 years since then. The following poem is what happened while I was there. It’s a reminder that my poetry not only tells the story of my life, but also serves as a touchstone to important memories which have helped to defined me. This gift also helps me to celebrate those moments while preserving them for posterity.

Some moments are truly worth remembering, and that evening all those years ago is one of them. It was my last first date, and that is something worth celebrating … and remembering.  

The Coral Street Pier, Revisited

I don’t speak of it very often, but

I wander back here time and again

To this touch stone of all our blessings

Or, perhaps, to remember when

Since what happened on that night

By this ancient, familiar shore

Changed the trajectory of my life

And is etched in my heart evermore

I couldn’t say it was love at first sight

For we were only friends, after all

But something took root that evening

Even though it may have been small

A movie, a dance, a little starlight

Some providence, or destiny

And that tiny seed we planted

Has grown into a beautiful tree

I have never forgotten that moment

Nor has it faded with passing years

That first date, when long ago

We danced on the Coral Street Pier

                By Frank Carpenter ©

Let Me Hear Your Voice

Earlier this week, I took a night off to step away from my usual routine and spend a few quiet hours alone. Even though that was in character for me, it was actually a homework assignment from the Convene business group that I am a part of. A month ago, we had reviewed some content together

regarding self-care, and one of the takeaways was that folks need to occasionally step away from their normal distractions and take time to reflect. That was our challenge, but it was loosely framed, allowing the group to explore what worked for each of us. Often, when I think about being alone for a few hours, I gravitate towards the beach or some other scenic place to walk because nature and the outdoors have a calming influence on me. Yet, for a variety of reasons, I wanted to be indoors that night and I ended up at a nearby mall. That may sound strange, but I truly enjoy the comfortable anonymity of public spaces so long as they offer a comfortable place to sit. And other than just showing up to reflect I didn’t really have an agenda.

For how empty the mall was on a Monday night, there turned out to be a surprising amount of ambient noise; people talking, music playing, pots and pans banging somewhere in a nearby restaurant. All of that got me thinking about how many distractions we are bombarded by in the course of our daily lives. I also reflected on how the quiet voice of God is so easily drowned out by all the other things clamoring for our attention. It occurred to me that perhaps the secret to connecting with God might not be hiking to a mountain top or cloistering ourselves in a monastery. Maybe we just need to be better at filtering the distractions in order to concentrate on listening to Him … wherever we are. Why force the God of the universe to meet us only in the rare quiet corners of our lives which are so difficult to carve out. Sometimes I feel like we relegate our time with Jesus to the equivalent of Maxwell Smart’s proverbial cone of silence. No, God is everywhere, so we need to develop ways to focus on Him wherever we are. I actually like the white noise of life, and sometimes find myself more distracted by a single soft sound that can barely be heard. Either way, my experiment in public solitude was a success and I was able to reflect, pray and even write a little poetry, which is how I often respond to emotional and spiritual moments.

So I offer the follow poem, which I wrote during the aforementioned evening. Poetry is how I work things out. Rhyme and meter help me to make sense of complicated issues and then capture how I really feel. Others will respond in different ways. When we want to be alone, we all gravitate to various sorts of places and respond to different stimuli, or the lack thereof. Your experience would likely look completely different than mine. Yet, I would challenge you to block out a few hours and go someplace, anyplace, to be alone for a while. It can be anyplace that allows you to disconnect and give your mind the opportunity to wander. There is something in us that responds to moments of peace, and I believe there is great value in just pausing to listen. We can listen to ourselves, to the wind in the trees or the surf upon the shore, to city noises or the soft whispering of a garden. In those moments I also listen for God to whisper something as well. He rarely speaks audibly, but His quiet voice can still be heard throughout creation. One thing is for sure. If you want to hear something, anything, the first step is to listen. And sometimes that requires a little effort. You’ve heard about my experiment. I encourage you to try one of your own. At the very least you can relax a little … but you never know what might happen.

Let Me Hear Your Voice

Oh Lord, let me hear your voice

In the midst of everything

Part the seas of distraction

Which are always clamoring

Let your peace descend on me

When it seems that there is none

May my eyes pierce through the haze

To alight upon your Son

Show me how to walk the path

When so many others call

To filter the cacophony

To hear your voice, still and small

Lord, show me how to trust you

When doubt and fear are sown

Even where I least expect it

May I be yours and yours alone

When this world would woo me

May my heart and mind be true

For I know you are a jealous God

And I would serve none but You

A thousand other voices beckon

They whisper, laugh and tease and sing

But let me hear your voice, oh Lord

In the midst of everything

By Frank Carpenter ©