Driving Around

This past weekend, in a very real sense, I had the opportunity to take a little drive down memory lane. There was a season thirty-five years ago when we sometimes had trouble getting our recently born son, Christopher, to fall asleep. As parents, you have to use all of the tools available and we realized pretty quickly that Chris was an outstanding car sleeper. So a few times a week we’d end up buckling his car seat into our 1984 Nissan Stanza and going for a drive around bedtime. For some reason, it became our custom to listen to George Winston’s December album while we drove … on a cassette tape, of course. And we even fell into a routine route that ended up at a park with a view of the lights on the bay. In time that sleep-stage passed, but we often think fondly of that season and the peace those quiet drives brought to our burgeoning family. And certainly George Winston music bring back memories as well.

Fast forward three and a half decades, and we had a dear friend and her baby staying with us this weekend. Her baby, Olivia Grace (same name as our granddaughter), was fighting sleep and when she dozed off in the car we decided to ride that wave and let sleeping babies lie, so to speak. I dropped Nancie off at the house and went for a drive. Feeling nostalgic, I put played some George Winston music to complete the experience. Of course, now it was a Pandora station instead of a cassette tape, but the effect was the same. So I took a few loops around the Back Bay Road and otherwise wandered aimlessly for a while. And I couldn’t help musing that it was now thirty-five years down the road, both literally and figuratively. And that thought made me happy.

Life has a way of circling around on us, and there is a certain comfort in embracing those cherished moments that you get to revisit. I was also reminded of the old fashioned joy of just going for a drive. Whether you have a baby in the back seat, or a loved one by your side, or just feel like spending some time alone, there’s nothing quite like taking a little drive to enjoy the scenery, and maybe some favorite some music as well. And if it helps the baby to sleep … all the better.

Take a drive. And here's a link to our official baby driving album:

George Winston - December

Lucky Day

Recently I found a sand dollar while I was snorkeling, which was kind of interesting because it was the first I had ever come across in the water. For fun, I texted a photo of it to my kids with the caption that I was one dollar richer. To that, my daughter replied that it must be my lucky day. And that got me thinking. The fact is that I actually feel lucky almost all the time, but I think that is more of an attitude or a choice that I make. So many folks seem overwhelmed by the issues in their lives. They worry and complain about what they don't have, which often indicates a lack of gratitude for what they do have. I could ramble on about this. Instead I'll just let today's poem speak for itself.

Have a lucky day!

Lucky Day

I found a sand dollar down at the beach

Someone said it was my lucky day
As I reflect comes the pleasant surprise
Just how often I feel that way
Perhaps I was born lucky, or so it feels
For mine could be called a charmed life
I live in a beautiful town by the sea
Blessed with amazing children and wife
I have all the things which matter most
Home, faith, family, work and friends 
Whatever I lack I can live without
So I thank God again and again
For this life I have the good fortune to live
Where so many good things come my way
This morning's reminder just reaffirms
That it's my lucky day ... every day!
                 By Frank Carpenter ©

Monkeys in My Tree

I came across this ancient poem last night, written long ago when two of my nephews were climbing the tree in our front yard. That was nearly twenty-five years ago and now they are more like … well, gorillas. However, these dusty old words bring back that moment so vividly to my mind’s eye. We had so much family fun together when they were growing up. This poem also serves as a reminder of simpler times and youthful adventure. When was the last time I climbed a tree? Far too long ago. And now there are actually grandchildren playing in the trees around our house. Life seems to cycle like that, and perhaps the only thing that changes is me. Maybe we should climb some trees this weekend.

Monkeys in My Tree
Today, our game is climbing trees
A couple of monkeys and I
Just like a pair of chimpanzees
Under the blue May sky
How the branches quake and bend
As up the monkeys go
I wish that it should never end
As I watch from the grass below
What better on Saturday afternoon
Just as happy as you please
Alas, they grow up far too soon
Those monkeys in my trees
               By Frank Carpenter ©

Jon & Bradley

Just had a couples wedding shower for Jon & Bradley tonight. A wonderful evening of

fellowship, fun and community. Here is the blessing poem I wrote for them, and we wish them every happiness!
Frank

Jon & Bradley
Bradley and Jon, we're gathered today
With family and friends, both old and new
To celebrate your coming nuptial
And perhaps ... open a present of two
But mostly we want to welcome Bradley
Into this, our extended family
Of loved ones who have shared Jon's life
As the Weissberg's tribe and community
We've walked with them and prayed for Jon
All his life, each step of the way
And those prayers and hopes all culminate
In the wedding season we launch today
And as we look forward together
Towards the future that you will share
We ask God's blessing upon you
That you may walk in His tender care
That your love and faith and commitment
May be a bastion through trial and strife
And a beacon of hope to others
Through all the days of your life
May God grant you wisdom and patience
With rich harvests of happiness
And throughout the seasons which lie ahead
May your marriage and home be blessed
                     By Frank Carpenter ©

Agree to Disagree

Let’s face it, we don’t all see eye to eye. But that’s OK. I wouldn’t want to live in a vanilla world where each of us thought exactly the same thing. And, in truth, we need each other’s opinions in order to evaluate and sharpen our own. Sometimes I’m dead wrong and can’t even see it. That’s when the insight of others is so helpful. It’s also true that we formulate many of our opinions and arguments based upon our own world views. I believe in a God. You might not. You come from a certain type of family or educational background. I have had different life experiences. Each of these things shapes our perspectives. And often we draw lines in the sand that divide relationships, cultures, and even nations. So there are many times, especially among people we care about, where we have to agree to disagree. When that happens, we can continue to have productive and provocative discussions across a broad range of subjects. I have strong opinions, but I also want to honor relationships. So this goes out to those whom I might not agree with, but whom I still love and respect. Let’s keep talking.

Agree to Disagree

Although we love each other

There are areas, it’s true

Where we don’t see quite eye to eye

And I must disagree with you

We’re entitled to opinions

So at least philosophically

We diverge on several issues

And so you disagree with me

But I like that we can talk about

Whatever’s on our hearts

And discuss a host of issues

That seem to tear some folks apart

I respect how you feel and

Think you do the same for me

We live somewhere in the middle

As we agree to disagree

So I say let’s keep talking

Let’s keep wrestling with things

So we can challenge one another

Embracing what perspective brings

Wisdom never flourishes

Within a vacuum, it is true

And I relish the exchanges

That I have with each of you

              By Frank Carpenter

A Marriage Blessing

It’s another wedding season and as I prepare for Austin and Jenice’s  ceremony I spend a lot of time thinking about them and praying for them. With my heart leaning in that direction, I paused to write the below wedding blessing to recite over them while we are together this weekend. These words are kind of the culmination of what I’ve been praying over them in recent weeks, and when my heart is focused in that way, it often ends up as a poem. So, Austin and Jenice, this is for you. Be happy forever!

Frank

A Marriage Blessing

May God bless and keep you

Through the passing of the years

May you feel His arms about you

In the triumph and the tears

May you celebrate together

The joy of simple things

And learn to find the beauty

In whatever this life brings

May God grant you wisdom

When you need it on your way

Love and patience in full measure

Along with countless happy days

Filled with faith enough to trust Him

And trust one another too

Even when you may not want to

Then, most of all, may you be true

May your home be a haven

Of encouragement and rest

So that you, and all who visit

Feel welcome there, and blessed

May God bless your union

And may you strive to understand

The mystery of faith together

As you face life hand in hand

May God gently guide you

And draw you ever near

May He bless your life together

From day to day, and year to year

                  By Frank Carpenter ©

The Story

Most of us don't consider ourselves to be writers.  However, each of us is actually writing his or her life story every day. Perhaps not with pen and ink, or even with a keyboard, but we are still writing all the time ... with our lives. We don't have to write it down. We don't even have to open our mouths. But we are still communicating constantly.  Whether we are making big choices about careers or relationships or causes, or seemingly small choices like changing lanes on the freeway, calculating the tip at a restaurant or when an how we'll return a phone call, every choice tells something about who we are, and often affects other people. Are you cheap person, the late person, the thoughtful person? Do you take time to listen and make other people feel valued? Are you the one who drives fast and cuts everyone off because your time and schedule are more important, or because you made poor time management choices earlier that caused you to be late? Are you the spouse, parent, sibling, child or friend who blesses others or who makes their lives more complicated? Are you the nice boss or the mean boss, the gossiper or the encourager, the mom or dad who could never get to family commitments? Do you have a temper or a knack for making hurtful remarks? Think of the last thing you said to each of the important people in your lives. Would you want that to be your final words to them, the words they would be left with if you were suddenly gone? Have we succeeded in work or earned other accolades at the expense of letting down our families or friends or coworkers? And what about our faith? Have we truly lived out what we believe? Or is there a gap between our professions and our actions that causes others to stumble or question what we actually believe. The list goes on and on.

You see, our story isn't just what we might put in our resumes or our memoirs. How would other people write our stories? What about the people at home and at work and at church, and at clubs or parties? And would all their stories match up, or would some of them be asking, "Hey, are we talking about the same person?"  The point is that each of us is writing a story with their lives, a story as distinctive as a fingerprint. What's your story? Did you leave a tangible trail of joy and kindness and generosity, or something else. What choices are you going to make to change your story for the better today? It’s never too late to change your story. And the most amazing, exciting, encouraging thing in all the world is the blank page of life that God give us each day to write our stories upon.  

The Story

Every life tells a story

Regardless of what we intend

The kind of life we choose to live

Will be our testament in the end

Whatever may be our intentions

Whatever our lofty words

Our choices will be set in stone

And their story will be heard

Our triumphs and our failures

And our apparent priorities

The way we treated other people

This are our legacy

So each day we write the story

That others will read someday

Each day shows who we really are

So we must guard what our lives say

Yes, each life tells a story

Will we live poorly, or well

For each of us must choose each day

The story we want our lives to tell

            By Frank Carpenter ©

Gone But Not Forgotten

Some thoughts today on the cherished memories of some men who have departed my life during years past. 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 years 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 in 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 to call, write or visit those in their own lives who may be in just such a situation. Folk in convalescent homes live for your calls and visits. And 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 ©

Hope

The concept of hope is an interesting one. In its simplest form it represents the fulfillment of our desires. I could say, for instance, “Gosh, I hope I win the lottery” or “I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow.” However, real hope can also have a deeper meaning, one which speaks of a future or of things that we hope in. That is my context for today.  So I want to ask us all the question, “what do we hope in?” That may actually be the biggest question of all. And the second thing to consider is whether the object of our is truly worthy of our hope. It’s one thing to hope our team will win or hope there won’t be much traffic this morning, but what about the big hopes? What are we betting our lives on? Is it the hope that if I have enough money I’ll be comfortable. Or the hope that if I’m a good person I’ll go to heaven? Or, as a last resort, the default hope that everything will just be OK if I don’t think about it. But can we really afford to roll the eternal dice on outcomes that we can be sure of?

I’m betting my life on Jesus. When I hope for the future, my hope is in the future that He promised in the bible of eternal life with him in heaven. I’ve looked around, and it’s clear to me that trusting in Jesus is our best and only hope. It requires a step of faith, but anything that we hope in or trust in requires a step of faith. Again, the question is always, “Is the object of our hope worthy of that hope?” When it comes to Jesus, I answer yes. If you’re not sure what you hope in, let’s talk about it. Most importantly, don’t just hope that everything will be OK. Your forever is too important.

The Hope

“Of course my hope is in Jesus”

I’m always so quick to say

That’s the right Sunday school answer

But do we really live that way?

What do I really hope in?

Sadly, my life betrays

I hope in savings, work and approval

And that’s how I live each day

For far too often I place my trust

In the things that can never last

Investing time and my talents in chaff 

That fades when this life has passed

Yet I dare not hope in the temporal

And the false security

This world continues to proffer

For those things shall fail me

Only a hope in Jesus

Will stand the test of time

Far beyond all the other things

I’ve clung to and called mine

This world will surely disappoint

No matter what we may do

Oh Lord, You are my only hope

May I place my trust in You

            By Frank Carpenter ©

Change the World

We all long for lives of significance. Most of us want to change the world, in one way or another. And as a Christian that desire goes far beyond merely making my mark in business or leaving some meaningful body of art behind for posterity. It’s actually about affecting the eternal destiny of my fellow men …. quite literally, for heaven’s sake. My particular calling and giftedness tends lie along the lines of encouraging and inspiring others. However, as in any movement, I can hardly ask more of others than I expect of myself. For what do my words of encouragement mean if they are not supported by the life I lead and the condition of my own heart. So, in a very real sense, I must embrace the change that I desire in others. I must be the change. This truly raises the bar in my personal journey. And while I talk about myself here I also shout out to my fellow believers. The revolution begins right here, within our own hearts and minds and souls. And if we aren’t changing the world then the first place to look is in the mirror. Who are we? What do we believe? Do our lives actually support our lofty words? These are the fundamental questions to ask in any movement. And once we answer them it’s time to start having a greater impact. It’s time to unleash the full power of God through us. Are you ready? Then let’s change the world! And let it not just begin, let it begin with me.

To Change the World
Lord, I want to change the world
To lead a revolution
And such rhetoric comes easily
But when it comes to execution
I have a nagging feeling
That in order to succeed
The change I long to bring about
Must be brought about in me
For I cannot ask of others
What I will not take to heart
So if I pray for transformation
My life is where it starts
If I would place a yoke or burden
Or some other expectation
On another I must make myself
The root of the equation
Lord, I want to change the world
But now I clearly see
That if the world is to be changed
It must begin with me
                  By Frank Carpenter ©

Well, if you’re into religious holidays, this is certainly a red letter week. We have Palm Sunday, Holy Thursday, Passover, Good Friday, Easter ... not to mention International Tatting Day, Bunsen Burner Day, National Clam on the Half Shell Day and, of course, today is April Fools Day. Religious holidays, while good reminders of the truth, can often cloud it as well. We are so easily distracted by the food, the fun, the ritual and social aspects of any holiday that it is easy to leave God out of such a day - even if it's a religious event. All celebrating, church services, egg dying and palm waving aside, I would like to redirect our focus to the person of Jesus Christ, whom we truly celebrate this week. This is the week that dozens of prophetic scriptures were fulfilled through His triumphal entry into Jerusalem (Palm Sunday), his eating of the Passover, His betrayal, His mock trial, His death on the cross, and finally His resurrection. We must remember, amidst all the other hoopla, that Jesus is the Son of God, that He actually lived, actually died for our sins, and actually rose from the dead. If any of those facts are untrue, then everything else we celebrate this week is pointless and we might as well sing our hymns to the Easter Bunny. If we do not accept Jesus as our Savior and Messiah, then we are all April Fools and that is the only relevant holiday. So 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 when He knelt in the garden of Gethsemane and prayed. In that scene of anguish and compassion I most clearly see the Son of God choosing to suffer and die for me personally. Easter is a time to celebrate God’s victory over death, but the foundation of that victory is His great mercy and the sacrifice of His only Son on behalf of an undeserving world. Have a Good Friday and a happy Easter, but 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 ©

Estate Sale

Many things lately, including a recent minor flood in our home, have been reminding me how caught up we seem to be with our stuff. The acquisition and maintenance of our possessions tends to drive so much of our lives. We spend substantial time shopping. We redecorate and rearrange. We buy larger items on credit. Perhaps I’m even more aware of this force upon us here in Orange County. And then here comes our little flood week before last and we find ourselves having to clean out bedrooms and closets and cupboards and “that corner” in the garage. Suddenly, we come up with a car load of stuff to donate that we didn’t even need. And that’s only the first car load, but it serves as a reminder of how we fill our lives with stuff. We’re always so excited about our purchases. Then, as the individual items age they move from the living room to the back bedroom to a closet, then the garage. And a few years later we find ourselves out in the garage wondering why we ever bought that junk in the first place, let alone stored it for an extra decade.

So as I ponder my recent experiences I have to ask the age old question, “What do we really need?” That’s an awkward question because people usually assume that you are about to judge them based upon their possessions. But it’s still a viable question because it helps to serve as a foundation for more questions like, “How much do we have to earn?” or “Which things truly have value in our lives?” Not to mention, “What kind of legacy does our stuff represent?” And it goes on from there. However, rather than continuing to ramble on this subject I’ll just share the following poem that I actually wrote at an estate sale we visited last fall. I’m not against estate sales, or sales of any other kind for that matter, but I challenge you to consider the above questions in light of the wisdom of hindsight which this experience provided me with.  Remember, it’s only stuff … and it can’t actually make you happy

Estate Sale
We turned off when we saw the sign
As we were passing through
And drove to the estate sale
As we are wont to do
In search of deals and treasures
If some were to be had
Which we usually find enjoyable
But today it made me sad
As I wandered through the house
The thought that weighed on me
Is that we somehow were intruding
On someone else's memories
Their possessions told the story
Of the lifetime they had shared
That strangers now picked over
And it seemed somehow unfair
To be rummaging through their home
Without a second thought
Like so many human vultures
Who had descended on the spot
So I resolved right then and there
Not to fill my life with stuff
That my children wouldn't even want
That I will learn to say, "enough"
That as my life progresses
And long before my final day
I'll purge all the worthless things
And give the rest away
I don't want a bunch of junk
To define my legacy
I want the people whom I love
To just remember me
         By Frank Carpenter ©

Sharing the Road of Life

Out on the road enjoying some long overdue time away with my bride of 31 years. I write about a lot of other people and subjects, but today I wanted to take a little time out to post of couple of poems to honor the person I’m so happy to share my life with. I’ll let the poems and photos speak for themselves this time. Stay tuned for more updates.

Indian Summer

The wind is growing colder

But only very recerntly

The warmth of summer stayed with us

This year, unseasonably

We have clung to it as well

Though autumn's getting on a ways

Enamored of its winsome spell

In these bright and sunny days

We know that winter looms ahead

Yet we ignore it blissfully

In this Indian summer of the heart

Which warms both you and me

By Frank Carpenter ©

Shores

How many beaches have we wandered

In our thirty-something years

How many sunsets have we watched

In the life that’s brought us here

How much laughter, how much joy

Have we been fortunate to know

Since that first beach we tarried on

So very many years ago

How much happiness has been our lot

How many blessings has God sent

As walked those countless beaches

While the decades came and went

How many happy memories

Do we still have in store

I can’t wait to make them with you

As we wander future shores

                By Frank Carpenter©

Hilltop Dawn

I'm always looking for those little corners of beauty in life. This morning I was out on a hilltop when it was still dark up in San Luis Obispo. The below poem describes that experience. Like so many others, I am drawn to sunrises and sunsets because there is just something amazing about what God does to the world at that time of day. For me, those are the bookends of creation. Sunsets are like the final perfect scene in a movie that provides meaningful closure to any day. Sunrises represent the promise of a new beginning. Every day is an opportunity to make things right and make a fresh start. Sunrises always remind me of that, and even after all these years they still take my breath away

I would encourage you to look for those moments of beauty and wonder in your own life. They are everywhere around us if only we will look for them. And when we do we always seem to rediscover that they connect with a part of us that seems to make everything make sense ... like we were born for those moments. My hope for you today is that you may know this feeling every day. Happy trails!

Hilltop Dawn
I awake to a pale crescent moon
In the vestiges of dawn
As the final star begins to fade
With morning coming on
The world is bathed in quiet
Hints of frost cling here and there
A pair of deer meander by
Autumn is in the air
I follow the fence around the hill
Past pines and eucalypts
Past cows and fallow fields and vines
Frosty breath drifts from my lips
The songs of countless birds abound
From every field and tree
The sun's first rays slip down the hills
And, at last, envelope me
Then frosty meadows blaze in glory
Their veils of shadow swept away
In that shining moment
When the dawn becomes the day
  By Frank Carpenter

How to Change the World

As hurricane Sandy, the Frankenstorm, has pelted the eastern seaboard in recent days we’ve been inundated with statistics about how many people have lost their homes, their lives, their electricity, etc. The list goes on and on. But even before that recent and pretty epic tragedy there were already plenty of statistics for us to deal with. Many of us can quote the numbers of children who die each day or year from malaria, malnutrition, AIDS and so on. We have statistics on virtually every subject imaginable. In fact, we have a whole world of statistics. The western world seems to like them because they are easy to quote on the nightly news or in government reports. They impress us in documentaries and fund raising literature. We love our statistics because they’re informative and concise and they boil down enormous issues and problems into digestible morsels of data, the way scientific notation condenses nearly incomprehensible numbers into representations that we can at least pretend to understand. But we also like statistics because they are safe. They can impress and influence us without our having to deal emotionally with actual starving children or sick people or combat casualties or rape victims. Nice round numbers insulate us from the pain and suffering of strangers, the atrocities of conflict, and the devastation of disasters. Statistics move us just enough to encourage our donations or votes, without forcing us to get our hands dirty. They tie desperate needs and overwhelming social issues into nice, tidy packages that we can respond to without getting too flustered.

However, it’s extremely difficult to love a number. We can feign passion, but true compassion requires action. The fact is that we can never actually change the world by simply throwing money at statistics, for they are but the shadowy reflections of much deeper issues. Laurie Beshore, the author of the book “Love Without Walls” recently put this in perspective for me when she said, “Behind every number is a name. Behind every name is a face, Behind every face is a person. And behind every person there is a story.” In the end, we can never change the numbers unless we change people’s individual stories. Writing a check helps. But the only way to actually change the world is to step into people’s lives and care about them individually. We have to learn their names, hear their stories and intervene in those stories. It makes us feel good to write a little check and send it to some organization, and we absolutely should do that. But if that is all we do then we are, in a very real sense, simply subcontracting our compassion. If you actually want to change the world you have to love people individually and make a difference in their lives individually. Programs can never change the world. Politics can never change the world. Only love actually changes the world. And it happens on the front lines … one person at a time.

So the question is are you going to change the world, or is someone else just doing all the work on your behalf? If there’s a tug of some kind on your heart right now I beg you to respond to it. Don’t just read the statistics. Do something about it. Actually, personally, inconveniently, selflessly do something about it. This is your call to get involved in the solution. I’m sharing two poems below which I hope may provide some inspiration to take action. The first recaps what I’ve written above, perhaps in a form you can share with others. The second explains why I care so much. Perhaps it’s also one to share with others. Now, let’s go change the world. Because together, we can make a difference.

The Face Behind the Number

We read all of the statistics

Or we hear them on T.V.

And they move us for a moment

But that fades so rapidly

Because we cannot love statistics

Or connect with what they mean

When we are isolated from them

And their objects are unseen

But behind every statistic

Is a name, a face, a life

Every number is a person

Who knows pain and fear and strife

And every person has a story

As unique as fingerprints

Which no statistic could do justice

Being but the merest hint

So if we want to change the numbers

We have to know the names

See the faces, touch the lives

From which each statistic came

We must befriend the people

Embrace them individually

Bind our lives to theirs and intervene

In their stories lovingly

That is how we change the world

For no statistic can be changed

Until we change each person’s story

Because each number has a name

                By Frank Carpenter ©

The Least of These

I know that look, the look of pain

I've seen it time and time again

In the eyes of children on the street

And people who just need to eat

I've seen it on the tired and old

Whose lives were spent on fool's gold

And lonely people everywhere

Who simply want someone to care

It's the face of poverty and need

Of famine, flood and tyrant's greed

The face that haunts me in the night

And even in the broad daylight

Imploring me to stop and care

Instead, I pass and blindly stare

Ahead, to comfort and security

And away from those who so need me

My pristine little world is safe

From homeless beggar and starving waif

But not from God, whom I asked in

Whose voice I hear above the din

Who pierces hardened hearts like mine

And melts the ice of stubborn minds

And calls me to reach out and care

For those in need and in despair

For Jesus feels every tear

He knows each pain and every fear

Those with hunger, heart ache and disease

Jesus knows the least of these

So if I turn my back on them

I have, in fact, done so to him

For only by the way I care

Will people know that God is there

Lord, break my heart and bend my knees

That I may love the least of these

                 By Frank Carpenter ©

Don't forget to check me out on Twitter @frankpoet