The Caring Catalyst

Who Cares - What Matters

The Man on The Moon

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https://youtu.be/wuz2ILq4UeA

Are you more of a

V     E     R     B

o r    a

N     O    U    N ?

There are lots of Seasons

There are lots of comings and goings

There are lots of Beginnings and Endings

There are lots of Starts and Finishes

There are lots of things that  none  of those things can compare.        .        .

L   O   N   E   L   I   N   E   S   S

being  just  one  of  them.       .       .

Loneliness   is   the   only   season   that   lasts   all   twelve months—

no vacation or holiday.

H        O        W        E        V        E        R

I   F

Loneliness were a Disease,

YOU’D   be   the   Cure.       .       .

I  F

Loneliness were a Destination,

YOU’D   be   the   Road   from   it.       .       .

I  F

Loneliness were a complex Math problem,

YOU’D   be   the   Answer.       .       .

I F

Loneliness were an Ocean,

YOU’D   be   it’s   Shore.       .       .

I  F

Loneliness were a a Sunset

YOU’D   be its   Sunrise.       .       .

I  F

Loneliness were a Sentence

YOU’D   be   its   Reprieve.       .       .

I  F

Loneliness were a Verdict

YOU’D   be   its   Appeal.       .       .

I  F

Loneliness were hunger

YOU’D   be   its   Banquet.       .       .

I  F

Loneliness were Thirst

YOU’D   be   its   Oasis.       .       .

I  F

Loneliness were poison

YOU’D   be   its   Antidote.       .       .

I  F

Loneliness were Antarctica

YOU’D   be   its   Equator.       .       .

I  F

Loneliness were a man on the moon

YOU’D   be   his   first   Visitor.       .       .

Y          O          U

are    the    Great    answer    to

 Loneliness    in    all    of    its    forms    and    guises

I  F

You’re   more   of   a

V          E           R          B

than   a

N          O          U          N

by just

 s    h    o    w    i    n    g        u   p

instead of just shaking your head and

t a l k i n g     i t     a b o u t     i t .    .    .  

The man on the moon would really like

 T       H       A       T .       .       .

people much,

m u c h  closer would, too;

Every Season should have an Ending

after it’s Beginning.       .       .

Loneliness is the one Season

you can have  Effect  of

not just ending.       .       .

but actually making it

e     x     t     i     n     c     t.      .      .

Are   you   more   of   a

V       E       R       B

or   a

N       O       U       N  ?

SOME  ONE

is looking for you to

S  H  O  W       T  H  E  M !

F       O       C       U       S

in   on

t     h     e    m .      .      .

Make half-way around the world

a

t         o        u        c        h

a              w a y

 

 

Ugly Christmas Sweater DAYS

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IMG_0220

D O     Y O U     O W N     O N E ?

An Ugly Christmas Sweater?

T                    H                    E                    Y

actually have parties with everyone wearing an Ugly Christmas Sweater.      .      .

Do  you  own  One ?

Do you feel like you’re wearing one

W  I  T  H  O  U  T     O  W  N  I  N  G    O  N  E ?

Even if we don’t own an Ugly Christmas Sweater

There are some days when it feels like we are wearing one that seems it’ll never come off:

Bad Relationships

Job Security

Ill-Health

Death

Unrest

Zero to limited Bank Accounts

Moves

Conflict

.          .          .What to do?

I often remember my student church the first year I was in Seminary.

By God,

we were going to have the first

LIVE   NATIVITY   CHRISTMAS   PAGENT

that small little Country Church had ever had.     .     .

I learned from that experience,

NEVER    TO     BRING     LIVE    FARM    ANIMALS

into the Sanctuary;

Little Lambs looks great on Christmas Cards,

but the things they left between the

PEEE-EWWWS

while they were bleeping away

are smells and stains

I don’t think they’ve yet to rid themselves of nearly 40 years later.     .     .

I’m not even going to mention the Donkey’s antics

or the calves

or the fact that the goat ate stored furniture.       .       .

It got worse still

when our third Wiseman came down with chicken-pox the night of the big show

and it’s not the same song  singing:

  “WE   TWO  KINGS  OF   ORIENT  ARE“

.       .       .It got worse before   NEVER   getting better:

We had a beautiful illuminated JESUS

in the manager who’s    LIGHT    burned out.        .        .

no problem,

I replaced it with a bulb

that turned out to be a STROBE LIGHT.        .        .

N O T H I N G   like an

ON/OFF   ON/OFF   ON/OFF   ON/OFF   ON/OFF   ON/OFF   ON/OFF   ON/OFF   ON/OFF

J       E       S       U       S

B            L            I            N            K            I            N            K

away  in  the  manger.

W E   L I V E

Ugly     Christmas     Sweaters     LIVES

and we have the same three choices I had that

bleating/blinking/too much stink for a sanctuary full of un-clogged noses/two-wiseman cursed night:

C  A  N  C  E  L       T  H  E       M  E  S  S

It always seems like one of the best of possibilities,

doesn’t it.     .     ?

Let’s just cancel this craziness;

this mess,

and cut our losses and speak of it never again.       .       .

Who would blame us when things are a disasters

and getting no better.       .       .

I mean,

when the Ugly Christmas Sweater snags—-

why fix it.        .        .?

P  R  E  T  E  N  D

I’ve long believed

that the only day we actually celebrate all 365 days is

H     A     L     L     O     W     E     E     N

We should all be nominated

and actually win the Academy Award

every year for the phenomenal acting jobs we pull off each day.     .     .

Let’s just pretend our way through our Ugly Christmas Sweater Days.       .     .

After all,

we don’t want to spoil anything for anyone,

especially during  T H E    S E A S O N.   .   .   

E     M     B     R     A     C     E             I     T

It’s like hugging a porcupine.       .       .

but why not just embrace the obvious—-

Just not  O W N.        .        .

W E A R    T H E    C H R I S T M A S    S W E A T E R

I N    S T Y L E

Endure the Stank,

Dance to the pulsating Light,

Sing the not-so-complete-song

and fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

your way to the homemade cookie and coffee cake line,

straight to the hot chocolate.      .      .

Y  O  U  R     C  H  O  I  C  E ?

UGLY  SWEATER  CHRISTMAS  DAYS

We all have them

We all live through them

We all come out the other end of

T  H  A  T

tunnel a little more disheveled, snagged, smelly, guffawed at

but–THRIVERS–ALL

There’s only one thing to do–ever–when faced with an

UGLY  CHRISTMAS  SWEATER  DAY:

S   P   O   R   T        I   T

(No   Matter   What   The   Season)

All Hands ON. . .

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images

The problem with

H     A     N     D     S

is not that we all have them.          .          .

it’s that they are not always joined;

Our hands   c a n

and have done so much on their own.          .          .

but when they are joined together with other hands

the imagination isn’t vast enough to comprehend

what can be accomplished;

Could have   H  A  N  D  S   joined together

stopped the tragic,

senseless violence that takes place all to often in

Anywhere, USA.         .         .         ?

P        E        R        H        A        P        S

We will never know.            .            .

but   H A N D S   joined together can go along way in

providing the

H       E       A       L       I       N       G

What to do.        .        .

Imperfect hands in an imperfect world.        .        .

S     I     M     P     L     E :

H   E   A   L        I   T !

I’m often.         .         .

too often reminded

Of the story of a Rabbi who prayed daily that God would make a perfect world in which there would be no hatred, jealousy, pain, disease, pain or problems.  One night, God appeared to the Rabbi in a dream and took him on tour of the world made perfect.  The Rabbi saw his house, his synagogue, his town.  Lions and lambs laid together.  Still, the Rabbi was troubled. . .something was missing.  “Where am I in this perfect world?” the Rabbi asked.  God offered an apologetic answer: “This is the Perfect World you requested.  You must understand that you are not perfect, so you cannot be included.”

Now, this is where

I would usually plug in some

facts,

figures,

data

scientific studies

that would prove

K       I       N       D       N       E       S       S

is not just an option

it’s a healthier life style.     .     .

but

sometimes you just don’t need a study

to tell you

what you already know.       .        .

F        A        C        T :

Terrible.         .         .

most horrible things take place in our lives and in our World

but they have no relationship on how we live our lives of

Care and Compassion.        .        .

F        A         C         T :

Expecting the World to treat us fairly

because we  are nice people

is like expecting a Bull not to gore us

just because we’re vegetarians.        .        .

F        A        C        T :

We may never be able to prevent horrible events from happening again.           .           .

but by coming together

by joining hands

by Unconditionally Caring

by Unrelentlessly being Compassionate

we lessen pain and make the World a better place

N  O      M  A  T  T  E  R     W  H  A  T

F        A        C        T :

The   Future   isn’t   a   place   we   go   to

It’s   a   Place   we   Create

F        A        C        T :

By joining hands in Care and Compassion

the Future becomes a much better

P    R    E    S    E    N    T

a more hopeful

N     O     W

Join me

p      l      e      a      s      e  

oh please oh please oh

p      l      e      a      s      e

A Place

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https://youtu.be/aFPcsYGriEs

Is  there

 a

P           L           A           C           E

A

S      P     O     T

that makes it feel like a

h     o     l     i     d     a     y

even when.     .     .

especially when it actually

i      s     n   ‘   t.     .     .     ?

Maybe it’s where

you are known.     .     .

maybe it’s where

you are comfortable.     .     .

maybe it’s where

you are misunderstood.     .     .

maybe it’s where

you are embarrassed.     .     .

maybe it’s where

you are feared.     .     .

maybe it’s where

you are seemingly out of place.     .     .

maybe it’s where

you  are .       .        .

There’s a place

not so much where people meet you.    .     .

b u t    j u s t    a    p e r s o n

who accepts you

with all of your

flaws

misfortunes

disformaties

and sour notes

and  at

t h a t     m o m e n t

makes a mere place

H       O       M       E

D O

t      h      a      t

often

Go ahead.     .     .

Open your Heart to Everyone

and watch another’s life

LIGHT   UP

It’s a S H A M(E)

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junk_mail_pile_2

It’s almost become a thing of the past:

J  U  N  K      M  A  I  L

It’s almost a story no one would even notice or care about:

Richard’s

It’s almost a S H A M (E)

Funerals are a time to Remember.

Funerals are a time to Honor.

Funerals are a time to Celebrate.

It’s most likely why I really like,

yes actually enjoy,

conducting funerals.        .       .

I get to hear the most sacred thing in and out of this world:

S   T   O   R   I   E   S

I got to hear,

I got to facilitate,

I got to tell Richard’s story.        .        .

And now,

now like you,

m a y b e.          .          .

I get to tell,

I get to share,

I get to Celebrate,

I get to Honor,

I get to RE-Member it

He was an Everyone/No One.       .       .

You wouldn’t find him going viral on YouTube

or blowing up Twitter;

He’s not going to be a  SHARE

on anyone’s Facebook page.     .     .

He had no LinkedIn Account.          .          .

or none that  ANY  would bother to observe.      .      .

Richard won’t make the front page of any newspaper

or the top story of any newscast.       .       .

He’s the father or an estranged son,

a brother of a disgruntled sister,

an uncle of a needy, not always grateful niece

and a   f r i e n d

to anyone who ever sent out any kind of junk mail

promising to make you a millionaire for a mere,

new reduced price of $99,

or to feed a child for $5.99 a day,

or to provide clean water,

warm blankets,

medical care for $25 a month or.         .         .

Well you fill in the ________________________________________.

The more Richard responded, the more mail he would get
A  S  K  I  N  G,
P  L  E  A  D  I  N  G,
I  M  P  L  O  R  I  N  G.        .        .

He had three mountains of such requests around his chair.      .      .

ONE for Denying.        .        .
ONE for Considering.        .        .
ONE for Giving. . .his biggest pile by far.       .       .

You are reading this next sentence right:

HE   BORROWED   MONEY   TO   GIVE   AWAY   WHEN   HE   HAD   GIVEN   AWAY   ALL   OF   HIS   OWN

You are reading this next sentence right:

HE   WAS   FOUND   A   WEEK   OR   SO   AFTER   HIS   DEATH   IN   HIS   HOUSE   WHEN   THE   POST-OFFICE   IN HIS   SMALL   TOWN   HAD   MOUNDS   OF   UN-PICKED   UP   MAIL   AND   THOUGHT   SOMETHING   STRANGE AND   INVESTIGATED   DISCARDED   AND   DECAYING   LIKE   THE   PILES   OF   MAIL   SURROUNDING   HIM

He received   FIVE TIMES   the amount of junk mail on the day of his funeral than people attending.         .         .

This man who just didn’t   G  I  V  E,  but

G  A  V  E         W  A  Y,

W A Y,

W A Y      U P.        .        .

up to a place

he dreamed on this earth

that would benefit family and friends

who long abandoned him,

but never the  INVISIBLE HAND  that kept reaching out to him

until it clutched his throat

and strangled him long before his death.       .       .

Was it Compassion?

Was it Love?

Was it Care and Concern?

Was it for some secret Redemption?

Was it a bargaining to get to some Heavenly Post-Office-Place?

Was it Blind stupidity?

Was it ultimately necessary?

What a S H A M (E), huh?

In more than just, both ways.         .        .

One person’s Heaven might be another’s Hell.         .         .

In Richard’s Heaven,

there would be

M A I L—-Lots of it—-

All handled carefully and respectfully and most of all:

A     L     L             A     N     S     W     E     R     E     D!

A Helper’s High

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p0394pm9

It happened. . .

T          H          E          Y

said it would happen.     .     .

I T      D I D

I can’t run anymore.           .           .

L I T E R A L L Y—

X-RAYS

don’t lie.          .          .

they showed my poor 61 year old knees are in reality

9   0

from 8 marathons and countless miles to prepare for them

and more recently,

just running for the

r u n n e r ‘ s     h i g h

G                O               N               E

The most painful thing I’ve found out through this

cut off

is that nothing

no  thing

not one thing

replicates  that  high

Not an elipitical

not a weight-lifting

not planks

not water jogging

no steam room

no sauna

no hot tub

uhhhhh-nada

nil

null

aught

zilch/zero/zip/z i p p o

except what’s been there all along.          .          .

Desmond Tutu once said:

“Do   your   little   bit   of   good   where   you   are;  it’s   those   little   bits   of   good   put   together   that overwhelm   the   world.”

Nice  words.       .       .

or

T    R    U    T    H ?

or.        .        .

D    A    R    E ?

THE   STUDIES

show that generous people are happier and healthier.        .        .

so why are these acts often questioned and mocked?

Sandi Mann, a psychologist at the University of Central Lancashire went out to prove it, literally, She wrote a book entitled, PAYING IT FORWARD: HOW ONE CUP OF COFFEE COULD CHANGE THE WORLD

Michael Norton, at Harvard Business School paid attention.  He offers some of the most convincing evidence, repeatedly finding that people who spend a bigger proportion of their income on others tend to be far happier, in the long run, than spending it on themselves.  

What makes it impressive is that Norton has tested this theory all over the world in more than 130 countries from the US  to Uganda.

“Across all countries–rich or poor, and in ever every continent–people who gave more tended to be happier people,” he says.  For this reason, he thinks the joy of giving appears to be a ‘psychological universal’–a trait that lies at the core of human nature, independent of your culture.”

B          A          M

Mann has also proven that taking time to help others may even protect you from disease.  Over a 30-year study, women who volunteered for a charity were 16% less likely to suffer a major illness during that period–maybe because it actually lowers stress levels, which may also, in turn, boost the immune system.

B          A          M

Ms. Mann believes heavily in a Helper’s High.    .    .in fact, as a clinical psychologist, she has often counseled people with depression to try and incorporate small acts of kindness into their therapy. . .she offers that it’s not a cure but it does give a way to contribute–to give back–and that makes them feel good and that they are useful.

I don’t run any longer.

My knees often ache a good bit during the day and throb at night,

but there’s another race I’ve been running all of my life

that often leaves me breathless, too.

And so far.       .       .

I’ve never gotten tired;

G         I         V         I         N         G

Paying   IT   Forward

it turns out

isn’t a Season.         .         .

It’s    a    Lifestyle

The Road isn’t crowded.        .        .

and I’d love the Company–

Join  me

You’ll never be the same again

and  that  Helper’s High

will always have the Clouds looking up

A T       Y O U

When The Wrong Way ISN’T

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Unknown

It was early.       .       .

right before 8:00 a.m.

and she spotted me right away as I walked off the elevator.

I was covering for him;

he was on vacation

and I had gotten the alert we had a new patient

that needed to be seen before the weekend

so that we would stay compliant.       .       .

I went over to the nurses station where she was standing

and I asked about the new patient and what room he was in;

The Nurse told me that he was in room 2223

and he had a  good night.

When I went to his room he was sleeping,

but not very soundly.     .     .

I gently knocked on the door

and introduced myself.       .        .

 I explained my role of being a Spiritual Care Coordinator

and it really being a fancy name for being a Chaplain.       .       .

“I know that you have just come on to hospice and there’s been a whole wave of folks to come in to see you, even me. But, sir,” I went on to explain further, “You’re so important to all of us that you get your own Nurse, Social Worker, Home Health Aide, Chaplain, and if you would like, a Music or Art Therapist or even a Masseuse.”

I’ve said something like this

in a script-like introduction 1000’s of times before

in my 22 years of hospice work.        .        .

“God Dammit,”   he whispered,

almost like he was just above silently praying the

“O u r   F a t h e r,”

and then he said it louder and one more time

L     O     U     D     E     R      still.

It was then that I saw that his eyes were more than misted,

that they had actually welled up to the point of overflowing their brims.     .     .

“It’s not suppose to be like this, it’s just god damn not suppose to be like this,”

he said, a little more composed tone as he opened up the lid to his oatmeal.

“Shit  balls,”

he said as he stabbed a spoon in the middle of it.

“This’ll   make   it   all   better.”

We both laughed.

“Are you in any pain? Do you hurt anywhere?”

“Not   really?”

“Are, are you afraid? Worried?”

He let his mouthful of Oatmeal do the talking.

S       I       L       E       N       C       E

.        .        .scares people into talking

.      .      .sometimes even shouting loudly

.      .      .or just making noise

—-any sounds

so as to break that highly polished

C r y s t a l      S I L E N C E

into small, jagged pieces

that might cut but not remain Soundless

any longer.     .     .

We feared the SILENCE—–

Neither of us.        .        .

We accepted it.        .        .

Embraced it.        .        .

Let it do our talking

and we L I S T E N E D.         .        .

More.          .          .we heard!

He stared down into his coffee cup

as if it was a magic mirror

waiting to tell him the secret of Life and,

.       .       .and of Death

He was really looking for the Answer

even while wanting to ask the

Ultimate     Question.          .          .

“Yeah, uhh, yeah, I’m a little afraid,”

he coughed, cleared his throat and then affirmed,

“But not of dying, but more of the how, the when, the hurt of it all.”

He didn’t look up from his coffee.

He did look up,

and without blinking, asked,

“Is that normal?”

“Yes, I believe it is because so many others have told me so.”

“That   they’re   afraid   of   what   happens   before   they   die   and   not   after?”

“Yes.”

“What,  what   do   you   tell   them?”

“I ask them what has helped them in the past when they were going through something so hard and difficult.”

S            I            L            E            N            C            E

“And now, now I am asking you.      .     . What helps you?     What do you need just right now,   not then,   just right here,   right now?”

“I   think   a   prayer   would   really   help.”

“Would  you  like  me  to  pray  with  you  or  would  you  like  to  pray  with  me?”

“I  think  I’d  like  you  to  pray  with  me.   .   .Would  you?”

“Yes sir.     .     .Yes,  I  would  be  honored.  Would  you  like  me  to  include  anything  in  the  prayer?”

“Whatever   comes   to   your   mouth.”

“God, we call you by many names and one of them happens to be ‘Our Father.’ It makes us all of your children. You have never lied to us, you told us there was a time to be born and a time to die; but you’ve promised no eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mouth has told, no mind has ever imagined what you have planned for those you’ve enduringly loved. The truest and sincerest gift we have is our Fear and we wholeheartedly give it to you. If you can’t take it all away, please share it with us.       .       .”

“Thank you.        .       .This was great.       .       . I  really  appreciated  you  coming  by  even  when  I  didn’t know  how  bad  I  needed  it.”

“You gave me the gift, this morning, sir.       .       . Thank you.”

We shook hands without much shaking.         .        .

I held his hands in mine.      .     .

We locked eyes.        .       .

We didn’t blink.        .        .

Universal    language

spoken/heard-  -implicitly.       .       .

When I went out to the nurses station,

the Nurse was flustered.        .        .

“I’m   so   sorry.        .        .”

“What   for?”

“I   sent   you   into   see   the   wrong   patient.     .     . He’s   not   with   your   hospice,  he’s   with   another one.      .      . I’m   so   sorry!”

“Don’t  you  take  that  from  me,”

I said smiling at her.        .        .

“We  just  had  an  awesome  visit.          .          .

I don’t care if he was with our hospice or not…it was a great visit, for both of us.”

And then I laughed.      .      .

“Besides,  I  don’t  have  to  document  on  him  now!”

She laughed too, with a redness covering her face.          .          .

“But   you   do   have   to   go   see   your   real   hospice   patient   now.”

He       was       sleeping.          .          .

I      was      a        l  o  t        more      awake.          .          .

A ROCK Starts a WAVE

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img_2457

He’ll never be in the

HALL     OF     FAME

but

Rocky Bleier

who played for the Pittsburgh Steelers

when they won their first four

Super  Bowls

knows how to make

W             A             V             E             S

that never end.      .       .

After playing football at Notre Dame

Rocky served his country

by serving in the Vietnam War

and was nearly mortally wounded

when he stepped on a landmine

that nearly crippled him for life.     .     .

but this Rock didn’t disintegrate

he learned to

crawl

hobble

walk

r          u          n

but his greatest

r            a            c            e

came after the

cleats here hung up

the crowds ceased to cheer for him

the football was no longer carried.           .           .

his truest life work

began;

his ripple

started;

his     w     a      v     e

commenced;

   h i s        T             S             U             N             A             M             I

never e n d i n g.     .     .

his tragic wounds

his determination

his story

has   become   motivational

for many.       .       .

most very recently

a friend of a friend;

When Rocky was made aware

that a horrible car accident made an innocent man

a quadriplegic.     .     .

a former quarterback from Marshall University

who is now trying to make the best of it

going through his

“t   w   o  –  d  a  y  s”

of therapy

has a very good friend

who contacted

Rocky Bleier’s personal assistant

and  Rocky

r     i     p     p     l     e     d

This ROCK

caused a  WAVE:

img_2459

(Sorry to hear about the accident.  Things happen that we cannot control–what is important is knowing what we can control–Attitude is one of those things.  It’s a long road–you know that–so never give up—-With the support system you have–all things are possible—Rocky Belier)

I  know.      .      .

I  know.      .      .

that’s what

sports stars

celebrities

well knowns can do.       .       .

they can cause ripples

that become waves.       .       .

but so can

C      A      R      I      N      G              C      A      T      A      L      Y      S      T      S

We   don’t   have   to   be   a

w       a       v       e.      .      .

we just have to be in the many

m                      a                      n                      y

d   r   o   p   l   e   t   s

that makes up

The     W A V E;

When our love

our compassion

our kindness

our empathy

our sympathy

our very selves

become more

V       E       R       B       S

than

n o u n s

we add strength to

The  W A V E

not just to dive into

but actually become a part of—

to be endlessly

dripping wet

never-to-ever-be-dry-again-from.     .     .

it’s a rolling

unstoppable

completely wonderful

ongoing

W          A          V           E.          .           .

L     i     v     e     d

and now shared

for an ever

that is forever

n            o            w

B   E

T     H     A     T

C      E      A      S      E

R        I        P        P        L        E

THAT   CONTRIBUTES

TO   THAT   ENDLESS

W                    A                    V                    E

We   are   all   a

R     O     C     K

in our own ways

and the next big

T    S    U    N    A    M   I

awaits

Y   O   U   R

R i p p l e

Y   O   U   R

w        a        v        e

.          .          .y     o     u

Taught

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Amazing isn’t it.     .     .

it’s rarely about Teaching;

Amazing isn’t it.      .      .

it’s rarely about the Student;

Amazing isn’t it.       .       .

it’s rarely about them

N O T  finding themselves

T     o     g     e     t     h     e     r

at the exact time they’re both needed to show up.      .      .

The Teacher doesn’t always Teach.       .       .

The Student doesn’t always Learn.       .       .

But.       .       .

when that exact moment

the two are on the Same Page

in THE SAME BOOK.        .        .

Learning just doesn’t take place,

M         A         G         I         C

h a p p e n s.  .  .

Who was   that   Teacher for   your   Student?

It doesn’t always happen in the Classroom,

does   it?

Maybe that’s the problem.        .        .

we look for the Teacher in a Classroom,

chalk in hand,

Blackboard at their back,

opened Book,

Power-Pointed Up,

Lecturing,

Instructing,

Directing,

Assigning.        .        .

Maybe that’s the problem.      .      .

we look for the Student in a Classroom,

slumped in seat,

doodling on blank pages,

reading the same sentence/paragraph

over and over again,

feigning attention.       .       .

 But the Teacher,

the Student

can be in grocery story lines,

or movie theaters,

or ballgames,

or swim meets,

or at a diner,

a car wash,

Church,

a Mosque,

Synagogue,

Cathedral,

Cemetery,

Drive-Thru,

Playground,

Anywhere.      .      .

Anyplace.      .      .

Anytime.      .      .

Anyhow.      .      .

Is   it   Today ?

Is it Right now

at this exact moment

via   a   blog?

Is   it

Virtual?

Did you hear it in a Song Lyric.      .      .

a Headline?

Maybe the truest question is

N O T      W H E N      I S      I T.         .         .

BUT      WHEN      ISN’T      IT ?

Class  is  in  Session.       .       .

All Ways.        .        .

Always.        .         .         . 

When To G I V E

By 2 Comments

always-give-back-@j16Acut-1

No surprise, right?

I mean, it’s  THAT  time of the year, isn’t?

In fact.     .     .

E A C H    T I M E

is   T H A T    T I M E,  

isn’t it?

We see folks standing on road ways,

ramps and street corners

with signs that are asking what we all seem to work so hard for

and don’t ever get to keep enough:

M     O     N     E     Y.      .      .

We’ve all probably been in a place and in a time

where we needed more than what we have in our pockets,

bank accounts,

401k’s.       .       .

I’ve never stood on a corner to ask for money.

I once went on purpose to a soup kitchen;

O N     P U R P O S E,

not to help or serve,

 or clean up,

but to actually eat.     .     .

I wanted to see   I T   from another perspective.

I was treated kindly,

with sympathy and compassion,

but it was very apparent

I was  ONE  OF  THEM

and Not one of THEM,

serving.       .       .

I’ve gotten all of the advice on this matter from both sides:

GIVE Freely

and Never GIVE

under any circumstances.

“GIVE a man a Fish and you feed him for a day; Teach a man to Fish and he eats forever.   .   .   .”

Right?

 Wrong?

Circumstantial?

Enabling?

I have heard,

maybe felt it all.

Three things happened most recently

that I think has settled this for me,

and now maybe you.

We were driving home from school

and my granddaughter was in the back seat of the car.

We came to a Stop Light that had just turned, RED.

On the side of the road was a man who looked like he was wearing everything he owned.

He held a sign that just simply read,

H U N G R Y
P L E A S E    H E L P

I heard a zipper getting UN-zipped

and then the window go down from the backseat.

My 8-yr old granddaughter was handing a dollar to the man with the sign.

I found out,

it wasn’t her first time.

Fast forward a few days ahead. I was in the car and I was in another part of town.

I was getting off of the highway and there on the berm of the road was a guy.

He didn’t have everything on that he owned,

he actually was carrying a ripped backpack.

He was sweaty and his face was smeared.

He was holding a sign that I couldn’t actually read.

Maybe he wrote it in the rain.

It was hot and the letters looked like they were melting together.

Everyone was passing him by.

It was a long line and the Red Light came up at least twice

and now was just turning Green.

He was still 5 car lengths ahead of me.

I looked up.

There was a $20 bill in my sun visor.     .     .

it had been a great week

–F O R    M E.      .      .

I hit the button to the window and it purred down.

I crunched the bill between my fingers

and handed it over to him.

Seriously.          .          .

it was One of THOSE Commercials–

except there was no mention of benefits

to the Card Carrier

And yet.      .      .

still,  it was

P   R   I   C   E   L   E   S   S!

THAT look on his face,

and even with the sounds of afternoon traffic,

I heard him gasp.

I couldn’t see his face from the rearview mirror

as I drove away,

but his head was down, looking,

watching the bill in his hand as if it were going to fly away,

d   i   s   s    o   l   v   e

or just turn into a dollar bill before his eyes.

I wonder what story he’ll tell and to who?

I wonder if he’ll,

weeks,

months,

years from now reflect,

“I remember the time on a hot Summer day when this guy, who I didn’t even think noticed me, rolled down his window and handed me a crunched up $20 bill.”

I wonder.     .     .

if.     .     .

when   I’ll   forget?

And then there was the man

outside of the exit of a

GET-GO STATION

with a sign that read:

I   HAVE  DIABETES

AND  NEED  TO  EAT

I had just filled up my tank

and Erin and I were about

to fill up our stomachs

with a Sub-Sandwich we had just bought.

I rolled down my window and offered him

my still un-wrapped Italian Sub

and he declined my offer

by pulling out his own Sub from

the big bag he had in front of him.      .      .

He gave me a great

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm   Of   The   Day

So finally after a lifetime of waffling

with the   SHOULD   and   SHOULDN’T’S

of  what to do

when faced with an opportunity

of someone imploring

my meek earnings

I think I’ve come to a

S     E     T     T     L     I     N     G :

From now on,

there’ll only be two times when I give:

1) When      I      have     IT

2) When      I      don’t      have     IT

.          .          .A     N     D

What    say    YOU ?

Professional Speaker, Author, Assurance Man