Perfect Moments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

remembering all that we could have lost
By Frank Carpenter ©

Gone But Not Forgotten

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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 ©