The Wounded Soldier

This post is dedicated to those men and women who, though declared warriors and soldiers, have the goal of returning to their wives and children safe and sound. I've had the opportunity to hear many weep for their actions and suffer unbearable pain for that which they've been sent to do. May the day come when they can share their greatness daily with their families and not be in far off lands. This poem is dedicated to them.



The world honors me as a soldier today
But that's not what I want to be
I've never wanted blood and war
I've only dreamed of peace

You call it a great sacrifice
My leaving kids and wife
But have you once considered
The agony of taking human life?

We say we're bringing freedom
To countries around the globe
But think of women and children
Who cry while bombs explode

Where is the peace for these ones?
The innocent of God's seed
What of the love that they deserve?
Must they die and bleed?



Don't honor me as a soldier
I'm not a man of war
I lay awake and weep at night
"What are we fighting for?"

We are not any safer
We are not making free
With tanks and bombs and gun and fire
Am I the only one who can see?

If you value all my efforts
If you honor my sacrifice
Don't support the reign of war
But stand up for saving life

I'm Not a "TV Dad"

I'm pulling this one out from the archives, because of multiple comments I've read lately about the state of fatherhood and how television portrays fathers. I realized it was on my other blog, and not on my Work or Ark one, so I wanted to add it here. It was originally written June 18, 2011. 

I cried for thirty minutes last night. I hadn't done that, ever. The reason might seem really strange to some – my wife cut my boy's binkie. For the last few days we’ve put him to bed without the binkie, but Friday night he was really begging for it and we decided it was time for him to have the cut binkie in his hand so he could realize that those days are over. 

Our daughter went through the same process. When we cut her binkie she looked at us and said “Why cut it guys?” She tried to pop it in her mouth but it wouldn’t stay, and the confused look on her face broke my heart. I knew going through the same thing with Miles would be very hard for me to do so I had Gina do it. As I heard her and the kids in the kitchen chattering about how confused Miles was, I started to cry. The cut binkie is a symbol of him moving on to a new phase, of him growing up, of me no longer rocking him to sleep as he has his binkie in his mouth.

The next night the same thoughts came flooding into my mind and I couldn’t stop crying. I tried to dry the dishes with Gina but she saw me crying. I went to my bed and just sobbed. I felt so much sadness because Miles is growing up. I also felt slightly ashamed and embarrassed that my wife was holding and comforting me because I was crying. It seemed opposite of what is should be. I felt like I wasn't being a man about it, and I thought “A dad shouldn't be doing this.” But then, the following came into my mind, “I’m not a T.V. Dad”. I include an excerpt of an article on the portrayal of fathers on television, then this is followed with a poem I wrote.


"Often, sitcom dads such as Homer Simpson and Raymond Barone are portrayed as selfish and mindless. Although we believe that they love their children, storylines often portray their offspring as intrusions to other, more important pursuits such as drinking beer, watching TV or playing golf. These dads invest considerable time in thinking up schemes to avoid their family, and they appear overwhelmingly uninterested in everyone else’s lives".
http://www.media-awareness.ca/english/resources/educational/handouts/stereotyping/tv_dads.cfm




I’m not a “TV Dad”

The message that is spoken, the one we’re all spoon-fed
Is of the clumsy fathers, disinterested, over-fed
They’ve never changed a diaper; they’ve never said a prayer
As for listening or homework, they wouldn’t even dare

It’s time someone took courage, and faced this mockery
For if there are TV fathers, one of them’s not me.

I love my wife and cherish her role, all her gifts and abilities
I like to mop and I do dishes, even fold laundry occasionally.

I try to earn a decent living, but don’t do it to “get mine”
When I come through the front door, I leave my work behind

I’ll always make some time for catch or a pretend cup of tea
There’s nothing I would rather do than be with my family

I don’t drink beer or play much golf, I’ll live if I miss the big game
The joy I feel with my kiddies around means more to me than fame

I love getting sloppy kisses and saying “I love you”
And snuggling with my little ones when the day is almost through

And I know I’m not the only one, I see many dads like me
Pushing a child on the swing or taking them for ice cream

I see other fathers fishing, their boys casting in the pond
Another father and daughter were jogging; the list could go on and on

To all the fathers around the world let’s make sure our children know
That while it may be funny, the TV dads we see
The real truth is, they’re a minority - and they’re not like you and me!

Ben Arkell – June 18 2011

Please share with everyone! If you think your dad is doing it right, share this poem with him and let him know. We never know how long our loved one's will be around. I can't share this with my dad because he is gone.

The Sting of Death

When death comes swiftly in the night
So unexpected to our sight
When young ones die before they would
Our hearts break, and well they should

The pain is deep, the sting is real
It's all-consuming, it's all I feel
I want to move on, I want to mend
But why did this life have to end?


It's one thing if they're old and gray
They've lived their lives and had their play
But when they're fresh and young and new
With so much left in life to do

It's time likes these when all I hold 
Is to my faith of what's been told
Of life forever with those we've lost
God recompensing every loss

But still the aching here remains
Though lessened by eternal gains
What can I feed my struggling heart?
What words of wisdom can you impart?

I need not words but hands and hearts
A warm embrace is a good start
I want to cling to those I love
For fear they also sail above


God - comfort me this lonely night
Help me win this horrible fight
Send some loving friends my way
So I can make it one more day

And bless the memory of the lost
I'll cling to the past - at all cost
But lead me by the hand tomorrow
I do not wish to live in sorrow

(If you like, please share! Thanks)