The Caring Catalyst

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GIFT

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Buddy, can you spare a dime?

How about seven minutes?

GIFT

is a short film that has a profound, heart-touching message about the importance of GIVING, and the true value of wealth. It’s a beautiful deperiction of how we deeply touch others when we SELFLESSLY give our time, love and kindness.

GIFT

is about a boy who grew up not liking his father because he believed he was poor, unintelligent and unsuccessful, but his father had a secret. It was only until after his father’s death he discovers the true reach of his father’s generosity towards others and the joy and laughter he brought to others. He finally understands his father’s message to him as a boy, that

“BEING RICH IS NOT ABOUT HOW MUCH YOU HAVE, BUT HOW MUCH YOU GIVE”

I’ve watched the film several times and used it in a couple of presentations I’ve given, and plan to use it in some upcoming ones in March.

It doesn’t matter how many times I watch it.

I tear up

I gulp a little harder

I hear two words that just keep resounding louder and louder above the soft soundtrack. . .

I’M

A S H A M E D.

I’m filthy, stinking rich. . .

and aim to become just a little richer than any calculations could ever compute

. . .and even richer, still, tomorrow.

Here’s my invitation:

JOIN ME!

A Necessary Heart Attack

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So what is IT?

We’ve been bombarded almost constantly, some say since Christmas In July, with

C H R I S T M A S !

So what is your favorite Christmas movie or animation, because they’ve been on since Thanksgiving?

I think mine is the THE GRINCH WHO STOLE CHRISTMAS but it’s not a run-a-way winner by far. I like them all.

I think I choose the Grinch because of one particular scene that I loved from the book written in

1957. . . .

(SEE, EVEN IN 1957 THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT THE TRUE MEANING OF CHRISTMAS AND WHAT MAKES IT SO SIGNIFICANT TO SO MANY. . . .)

“. . .AND THE GRINCH, WITH HIS GRINCH-FEET ICE COLD IN THE SNOW, STOOD PUZZLING AND PUZZLING, HOW COULD IT BE SO? IT CAME WITHOUT RIBBONS. IT CAME WITHOUT TAGS. IT CAME WITHOUT PACKAGES, BOXES OR BAGS. AND HE PUZZLED AND PUZZLED ‘TILL HIS PUZZLER WAS SORE. THEN THE GRINCH THOUGHT OF SOMETHING HE HADN’T THOUGHT OF BEFORE. WHAT IF CHRISTMAS, HE THOUGHT, DOESN’T COME FROM A STORE? WHAT IF CHRISTMAS, PERHAPS, MEANS A LITTLE BIT MORE?”

Could be the greatest WHAT IT ever, huh?

or maybe. . .

WHAT IF…

Christmas is less about RELIGION and severely about what R E A L L Y

makes our Hearts grow Three times M O R E?

Well, now. . .

That’s a HEART ATTACK we all could afford…

Even…EVEN…

n e c e s s a r y.

The covers are turned down;

See you in the C. C. U.

S T A T !

Your Rung

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In a Concentration Camp there was a Prisoner who, even though he was under the sentence of execution, was fearless and free.

On a day where he was making his own Sunshine for others to squint, he was seen in the middle of the prison yard playing his makeshift guitar. A large crowd gathered to listen, for under that magical spell of his music, they all became as fearless as he. When the prison guards saw this, they forbade him to play.

But the very next day, there he was again, strumming tunes on his guitar and singing with a larger crowd around him. The guards angrily dragged him away and had his fingers chopped off.

The next day. . .yes, there’s always A NEXT DAY. . .

There he was–BACK–singing and making what music he could with his bleeding stubs.

The crowds not only gathered, they cheered loudly and D A N C E D.

The guards grabbed him and dragged him away as they beat him with his guitar until it was splintered stringless.

The next day. . .yes, the very next twenty-four hours. . .

He was standing in the prison yard singing a song that would make Pavarotti jealous.

What a song.

Pure.

Uplifting.

The crowd joined in, and while the singing lasted, their hearts became just as PURE as his and they felt

I N V I N C I B L E

in an UN-invincible place.

So very angry were the guards this time that they had his tongue torn out.

A sickening silence hovered over the camp like a heavy dark fog.

If DEATHLESS had a sound. . .

they all heard just THAT!

No. . .NO. . .N O

No one could believe it when he was back in the Prison yard the next morning.

He was swaying. . .

He was dancing. . .

To a Music that was so Silent it screamed loud enough. . .

EVERYONE seemed to hear.

And soon, without any hesitation or invitation,

there they were, the other prisoners holding hands and dancing around this bleeding, UN

broken figure in the center

while the guards just stood there, rooted to the ground in utter wonder. . .disbelief.

What?

How?

Why?

are some of the questions that come to Soul when we hear. . .become such stories.

It didn’t take me some twenty years of Hospice work, and thousands of patients later, to figure out that
not ONE OF THEM have ever showed me how to die. . .

EVERYONE ONE OF THEM HAVE VIVIDLY DEMONSTRATED HOW TO LIVE.

Some call it Spiritual.

Some call it Religion.

Some call it Common Sense.

Some call it Sixth Sense.

I’m still not so sure what to label it and have come to accept that maybe it needs

No Name.

But when I see it exhibited, hear it spoken, taste it’s sweetness, touch it’s sacredness, or smell it’s aroma. . .

I take another step up the Ladder.

Haven’t I seen you on those Rungs?

I’m sure I have. . . .

Without naming it or putting it into shape or form, you too, know.

Like me, you too have

C O M P A N I O N E D

What a perch to look out from, huh?

You know the very best RUNG to see it all from?

THE NEXT ONE. . .

U P

S C O R E

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Lauren Hill–A Freshman basketball player at Mt. St. Joseph University in Cincinnati, Ohio.

(DIPG) Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Giloma–An inoperable form of cancer with roots at the base of her brain stem and growing tentacles weaving through out her nerves.

T E R M I N A L

This isn’t a post about the unfairness of the situation. . .

This isn’t a post about WHY’S, HOW-COME’S, WHAT-FOR’S. . .

This isn’t a post about Lauren’s wish to compete in just one single game before. . .

This isn’t a post about an opposing coach and team being more compassionate than competitive. . .

This isn’t a post about ___________________________________________________. . . .

This is a post about Hope. . .

This is a post about Dreams coming true. . .

This is a post about saying “HELLO” and never GOOD-BYE. . .

This is a post about Living. . .

This is a post about________________________________________________________. . . .

The Lauren Hill’s will tell you what they’re afraid of the most isn’t the dying, the ‘what-is-next’s’, the leaving, so much as “the Leftover’s” the ones they’re leaving behind.

I’ve just celebrated twenty years at Hospice; started on a Halloween Day Monday in 1994.

I’ve seen lots of Pain.

I’ve seen lots of Anguish.

I’ve seen lots of Dying and Death.

I’ve seen lots of miracles that would have never been possible without all of those ingredients.

Mostly. . .I’ve seen not so much how to die as how to live.

I’ve had there in those rooms, at those beds, the best seat in and out of this World and I’ve been invited, entrusted to be there.

I’ve experienced that it’s the people, those magnificent golden strands, who have interwoven themselves into the very fabric of a Life, that makes life all that it is Life really is.

Lauren Hill gets IT.

She knows in essence what we all know: WE ARE TERMINAL.

I’ve done the studies–100 out of 100 of us are going to die.

That’s NOT the sad part–for Lauren or for us.

The sad part is not LIVING. . .

Not Living Before we Know IT. . .

Not Living During IT. . .

Not Living Through IT. . .

Not Living After IT. . . .

It’s a LIVING that DEFIES cancer, death. . . .

Lauren Hill proved that she is a huge DIS-EASE that Cancer has for which there’s no cure.

She proved with a simple lay-up in the first and only basketball game she’ll ever play in college, that
L-I-F-E is not just spelled with Capital letters–but EXPERIENCED in a much larger way:

S C O R E

Hope, Faith, and Love

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How good of a NOTICE-ER are you?

Do you believe in Coincidence or are you more of an Einstein believer of, “Coincidence is God’s way of remaining Anonymous?”

I’ve always had a fairly sharp eye for what’s happening around me. I still think I MISS much more than I notice, but a willingness to SEE, HEAR, TASTE, TOUCH, SMELL more goes a very long way in actually seeing, hearing, tasting, touching, and smelling so much more than purposely not doing so.

Everyone wears NAME TAGS these day.

EVERYONE. . .EVERYWHERE.

I saw her’s at CVS as I was checking out. Her name was HOPE.

“I like your name, do you?” I asked her.

She smiled and said it was ok.

I asked her if anyone ever made fun of it and she told me more than she’d like, but was pretty much use to it.

I thanked her for taking care of me so nicely and said, “No pun intended, but I ‘HOPE’ your name serves you well and others more than you’ll ever understand or imagine.”

She smiled at back at me and already began checking out the good of the person behind me.

I NOTICED. . .

Later that day I was picking up some copied mps/cd’s from a camera shop and person who had called me on the phone to let me know that my order was ready, she identified herself as, Faith.

I had a little “Hmmmmmmmmmmm of the Day,” moment.

When I met her, I asked her about her name just like I had done with Hope. She told me that it was an aunt’s name who had died before she had been born.

I asked her if she liked her name and she smiled and shrugged her shoulders a little and giggled out a, “It’s alright, I guess.”

“Well, Faith,” I said, “I hope your name serves you and others well–just like it did me today.”

Her smile served as her only response.

I NOTICED. . .

It was my last visit of the day.

She was sitting with her back to me and her husband was lying in bed.

From the doorway, I could see he was half sleeping and half awake, moaning softly.

He blinked opened his eyes repeatedly, tried to clear his throat and then with a raspy whisper he said, “Hey Love, can you give me sip of water?”

“Ahhhh, thank you, Love, thank you,” he sighed as he was already back into a not so restless slumber.

“What a great name,” I said as I pulled up a chair beside her on the side of his bed.

She looked at me with moist, tired, red eyes.

“Oh that’s not my name, it’s Gloria, but he’s called me that since our second date 48 years ago.”

“It seems to fit,” I told her as we sat silently watching her husband breathe with a little rattle.

He mumbled, “Love. . .Love. . .Love. . . .”

She put her hand over top of his and laid her head down on the side of his bed.

It was peaceful. . .it was Love-FILLED.

I NOTICED. . .

Coincidence or

meeting three women in three so very different places, God’s way of remaining Anonymous?

Are you a good Notice’er?

You really don’t have to be Einstein to N O T I C E

Hope. . .

Faith. . .

Love. . .

The Greatest of these is not just in the NOTICING, but BEING in the moments that make Life more than mere Consequences…and then,

SHARING THEM. . . .

A Fan or a Follower?

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I’ve been a life long Pittsburgh Steeler Fan.

Now it comes honestly. I’ve been living in Cleveland since 1987 and I don’t think I’ll live anywhere else because I love the area and what it offers so much.

But. . .

I was born in Wheeling, WV and grew up about thirty miles away in Washington, PA, about a half an hour from Pittsburgh.

As much as I love the Cav’s (especially with LaBron and his supporting cast in place) and am an avid Tribe supporter, The Steelers…well, I just can’t give them up.

However. . .

I’m not a Pittsburgh Steeler Fan, anymore. I’m certainly not a Baltimore Ravens Fan and no, sadly, I’m not a Browns fan either.

After seeing the video of Devon Still and his four-year old cancer-stricken daughter and hearing that in the midst of all of his troubles, he actually finds out that he didn’t make the final roster cut of the Cincinnati Bengals…but included him on the Team’s Practice Squad, how can you not at least have a little bit of support for THAT team?

THAT they signed him to a newly expanded Practice Squad…

THAT he will not be traveling a whole lot and be able to spend precious time with his daughter…

THAT he will receive $6300.00 a week for his salary for being on the Practice Squad…

THAT HE WILL BE ABLE TO HAVE INSURANCE FOR MUCH NEEDED MEDICAL CARE…

goes well beyond what football is, promises, or ever hopes to be, even with the ultimate winning of the Super Bowl or MVP Honors.

I’d like to think, just because the Browns lost to the Steelers on a last second Field Goal after coming back from a 27-3 half-time deficit, their home opener next week will still be a sell-out–not because of Fans…but faithful, die-hard FOLLOWERS!

FOLLOWERS who, regardless of wins/losses, last-second defeats or stupid-game-losing-mistakes, still believe, still support, still root, support, wear the T-shirt. . . .

Are you a Fan or a Follower?

It’s not often or often enough to be sure, but when I watch a video like the one above or hear of a TRUE LOVE STORY like Devon Still and his daughter, I become a much more Compassionate, Committed Follower; my heart beats a little more proudly; my eyes become watery; my faith a little more restored; my Hope–more secured.

Are you a Fan or a Follower?

Sometimes…just Some Times…

there’s a new song that just doesn’t need to be heard, or sung, but followed!

Let The Dance Begin…and never end. . .my fellow Followers!

Seed (y)

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ONCE UPON A TIME…

Could easily be NOW as THEN or WHEN.

The story goes that a thief was sentenced to death in this ONCE UPON A TIME mode for stealing some bread. Before he he was taken to the gallows he was allowed to make a statement to the King.

“Your Majesty,” the thief summoned humbly, “I am the only man living who knows how to plant apple seeds that will grow and bear fruit over night. To atone for my crime, I would merely like to teach you and your court the secret. I’ll just need a shovel, these hand full of seeds I carry around, and a young maiden who has not tasted love’s first kiss.”

Well, the King was a little intrigued and so he took the thief to a nearby field to learn this most awesome secret.

The thief knelt down and quickly dug a small hole.

“Now,” the thief said, “the water must be poured in the hole by a young maiden.”

The King’s own daughter stepped forward and poured the water in the freshly dug hole.

“We are now ready for the actual planting of the magical seeds,” the thief said addressing the King and his honored Court.

“The seed can only be placed in the earth by someone who has never taken a single item that didn’t belong to them, no matter how small or how long ago.”

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Christmas in July

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Christmas in July. . .

A Retail Owner’s dream and hope for ‘all the fears of all the years’ or at least this year’s bottom line.

When was the first time you remember hearing of Christmas in July?

It may not be the first time, but it’s certainly my most memorable time–July 1979.

I was a getting ready to start my final year at Lexington Theological Seminary and I was NO Billy Graham in the pulpit. I was taking a mandatory Practice Preaching Class with 9 other colleagues. We listened to each other’s sermons and then, quite brutally, butchered one another in what was suppose to be constructive critiquing.

V I C I O U S !

We gave three sermons each during the Term. It was my third and last one. I, uhhh, I really hadn’t done too well with my first two outings.

This third one wasn’t showing much promise. I had been up all night, being on call at the University of Kentucky Medical Center, to fulfill my Clinical Pastoral Education credits.

I WAS NOT going from a full-manuscript–word-for-word–written down before me, which was highly usual for me at that time.

I was picked to go first for this 8:00 a.m. class and Starbucks had yet to be invented.

I know that my mouth moved but it was my heart that spoke.

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Dark Nights of the Soul

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We’ve all had them and few, if any are voluntary:

DARK NIGHTS. . .Of The SOUL.

They Scare and paralyze more than amaze and awe us.

I’m in the middle of The Wedding Season right now. I will conduct weddings from now until Labor Day and then a a couple more in the Fall, including my youngest daughter’s on 12/13/14.

There is absolutely NO MIDDLE to the Burying Season. They happen year around, oddly enough, much more so right after the major holidays than at other times (but that’s another Blog Post).

It’s fascinating isn’t it?

All weddings really seem to be fairly similar, but every marriage is vastly different. Death…well…we know that it’s the other side of the Coin we all carry that will one day Come UP for all of us. Death without any Vegas odds comes to everyone, but ONE MOURNS SADLY ALONE.

Dark Nights of the Soul.

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HEAVEN-less

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You knew it was coming, didn’t you?

I mean, it’s the question we have to ask. . .answer, many different times in our lives, isn’t it?

So, do you?

Do you believe in, dare I ask, (yeah, I triple dog dare) H-E-A-V-E-N?

I don’t!

It’s not the first time this has happened, which is probably more affirming than anything.

More substantiating is that it’s happened to different types of people in different economic, religious, sexual orientation, gender, racial and generational realms.

It happened again this morning at a funeral I was conducting.

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