The Caring Catalyst

Who Cares - What Matters

Ugly Christmas Sweater DAYS

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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)

Best In Show(ing UP)

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This past Wednesday afternoon

there was a small gathering of staff in the Atrium

at David Simpson House House on

East 185th Street

to celebrate a very important

Member of the Hospice Staff

Tallulah

She’s been a therapy dog at The House for the past seven years

and it would be impossible to try to calculate

just how many lives—

patients.    .    .

families.    .    .

staff.       .        .

Tallulah has not just touched

but inspired—

patients.     .     .

families.     .     .

staff.       .        .

to also reach out and

T       O       U       C       H

We all gathered together

and surrounded her in a-not-so-perfect

c            i            r           c           l          e

and while Tallulah was in the center

chewing on a treat

Dr. Kevin Dieter

led us in a unison reading,

TO   LEARN FROM ANIMAL BEING:

Nearer to the earth’s heart, Deeper within its silence; Animals know this world in a way we never will.

We who are ever Distanced and distracted by the parade of bright windows thought opens; their seamless presence is not fractured thus.

Stranded between time gone and time emerging, we managed seldom to be where we are: Whereas they are always looking out from the here and now.

May we learn to return and rest in the beauty of animal being, Learn to lean low, leave our locked minds, and with freed senses feel the earth breathing with us.

May we enter into lightness of spirit, and slip frequently into the feel of the wild.

Let the clear silence of our animal being; cleanse our hearts of corrosive words.

May we learn to walk upon the earth with all their confidence and clear-eyed stillness so that our minds might be baptized in the name of the wind and the light and the rain.      

One   by   One

 each of us

by instinct

rather  than  instruction

left the circle and went into the middle

and gave her our own

little blessing that only

a heart can shout

and a mouth can’t begin to whisper

.          .          .I stood there and noticed

that eyes were weeping

what tissues can’t ever quite absorb

and chose not to think it was some kind of a

meaningful, sincere

G    O   O   D       B   Y   E

as a much more

intentional

devout

T H A N K    Y O U

Tallulah

was making her last visit to the House

but not giving us her

Final Lesson.       .       .

Her Last Lecture

if we are Student enough to

l e a r n:

J      u      s      t

S H O W I N G    U P 

B   E   I   N   G      P   R   E   S   E   N   T

brings a

h   e   a   l   i  n  g

not found in an

intervention

therapy

prescription

plan of care

I V

syringe

pill

capsule

s a l v e.       .       .

And like her.     .     .

makes us the

BEST    IN    SHOW

Willie Morris wrote a book called

MY  DOG  SKIP

The Family Movie came out in 2000

As I was standing in that most sacred-imperfect Circle

the ending scene came to mind:

https://youtu.be/nLKMroK2bA0

Good Bye?

THANK  YOU?

For now

and

for an ever

May the Peace that

Tallulah

has brought to many

now be that

Profound Peace

she’ll  enjoy

f o r e v e r m o r e

as she crosses over

The Rainbow Bridge

but never out of our hearts.

Drinking from the Saucer

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Have you ever done it before?

If you were at a Five-Star Restaurant and had just had a very expensive, satisfying dinner and the waitress, who has addressed your every whim and need, is now pouring your coffee to overflowing perfection so it’s a small moat in your saucer around your coffee cup.

Q   U   E   S   T   I   O   N :

Are you an    A P R I L     F O O L     enough

in front of all the guests,

enjoying dinner as you are,

going to    S  L  U  R  P    from your saucer?

Not even if it’s the best coffee ever,

Right?

Well, not many of us take notice

and might not readily admit it,

but the good stuff   I S   in the Saucer.    .    .

the Overflow is  always/ALL ways

where IT’S at.      .      .

Any Real   April Fool   knows that, don’t they?

A few weeks ago,

I conducted the small memorial service for Charles.

I never met him before.

He was a hospice patient in a group home near Santa Barbara, CA.

He was 92 and had been there most of his life,

but his life was never defined by that little fact.

Charles was an April Fool every month of the year.    .     .

Charles drank from the saucer,

u n a b a s h e d l y,   o f t e n,

with a smile on his face

and a pure, unadulterated happiness in his heart.

I learned that Charles had friends,

found true love,

traveled extensively,

had a job he took pride in,

and led a stress-free,

h   a   p   p   y           l   i   f   e !

Saucer slurping high living, huh?

The truest of  April Fools

S     e     r     i     o     u     s     l     y ,

if given the chance IN or OUT of a Group Home,

if at our last breath,

we could KNOW,

not hope,   wish,   dream.      .     .

K           N           O           W

that we had friends,

found true love,

traveled extensively,

had a job we took pride in,

and led a stress-free, happy life

—-S a u c e r – S i p p e r—–

Class   A   April Fool,

would you turn it down,

walk away?

Don’t feel bad.       .       .

M a n y    d o !

Pssssssssst:

D o n ‘ t      b e      M  A  N  Y !

Most don’t have the chance to drink fully from The Cup,

let alone the Saucer.     .     .

Most would turn down voluntarily being an

A P R I L      F O O L

any day of the year,

let alone on April 1

Look again.

There’s not only a Full Cup we have

but a Saucer for the Overflow

Hmmmmmm  of  the  Day:

Now Noticing would be one thing.

Drinking from them both. . .Quite another!

One. . .Two. . .Three:

S    L    U    R    P       Deeply

You April Fool

Get  Charles’d !

Two Buck Chuck

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Well.  .  .

Now you know. . .

Now you know that I didn’t win the 1.6Billion-dollar PowerBall

and I’m fairly sure that no one who happens to have split those winnings three ways, is reading this either.

Now you know.  .  .

maybe what you know,

know that you know,

and bet your life that you know.  .  .

but for the life of you don’t act like you know

or. . .even recognize.

I didn’t fully

until this morning when I, like millions of others, found out that what

W          I          N          N          E          R          S

we really are.

I found out that the odds of winning were about 1 in 292 million, which we are told are to be worse odds of being mauled by a bear and being attacked by a shark and marrying a supermodel–

A L L     C O M B I N E D.

You know what my Two-Bucks bought me?

H O P E :

If you think about it–for two-bucks it’s a great deal, no matter what the odds.  I mean, come on, for just two-bucks, I bought a chance for 1.6 Billion dollars.  That’s a pretty great deal, isn’t it?  H O P E !  It took no skill, no special prayers, I was on equal ground with everyone else without nothing to do or with anyone to compete.

Two-bucks bought me

P E R S P E C T I V E:

The simple experience of playing and actually  l o s i n g  was worth it.  This two-bucks lasted longer than an amusement ride or a movie or a Broadway show; this  p e r s p e c t i v e  lasted for days as we dreamed about how we’d help people and actually change their lives; make dreams that have never been dreamt, come true.  It allowed for friendships and camaraderie and love as I joined other groups at church, at work, in the neighborhood  in buying tickets together; we even commiserated about  how it just wasn’t in the cards  for us to win, and like everyone else who bellied up to that PowerBall Bar, took the chance, anyhow–all that for being Two-Buck-Chuck.

You know what my Two-Bucks really bought me?

I had an awesome conversation with my son last weekend, one of so many other fantastic talks; I found out at in a matter of less than a week we were going to be grandparents to one of our daughters, first daughter, another daughter’s second expected baby, and another daughter’s engagement to be married; I am going to be celebrating thirty fast years of marriage to a woman who said   y e s   when the whole world and mostly myself was screaming,  N     O;  I’ve served four amazing churches in the past 36 years; companioned hundreds of terminally ill patients; supported their families; conducted hundreds of weddings and thousands of funerals; been befriended by people that can’t be created or imagined by Hollywood’s greatest writers.    .    .what’s the price tag on all of that?  Two bucks?  1.6 Billion?

Hmmmmmmmmmm of the DAY:

A L L     O F     T H I S     F O R

t w o   b u c k s.    .    .    .

Two-Buck-Chuck figures the odds of winning some 1.6 Billion dollars don’t stack up to the best two bucks I’ve spent countless times over–especially just right now–that’s gotten me to the point of where

I know. . .

I know that I know. . .

I bet my Life that I know. . .

what for the rest of my life I intend to act

LIKE   I   KNOW

(what’s really precious and priceless)

Y O U ?

It’s great being
W     I     N     N     E     R     S

Two-Buck-Chuck realizes   t h a t

(as do I now hope you do, too)

When The GIANT EAGLE Ascends

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It was a busy Saturday morning. . .in an extremely crowded Giant Eagle Grocery Store.

It was just a quick,

GET IN, GET OUT 

kind of an excursion.

(Aren’t they all?)

I went in and got a couple of gift cards and two greeting cards and then. . .

got in a long, a very long 10 items or less line.

There she was,

THE   GIANT   EAGLE   ANGEL

She had a basket full of things. . .many different

E  L  E  V  E  N       T H I N G S

and then it happened. . .

She looked at what I was holding in just one hand and said,

“Sir, why don’t you go in front of me.  I’m in no hurry and you just have some gift cards.”

I, protested at first and told her it wasn’t such a big deal, but she insisted and so,

NOT  TO  INSULT  HER

I took her up on her offer and thanked her profusely.

. . .And then,
B     A     M

IT HAPPENED.

I told her she had done her good deed for the day and that’s when she shared with me that this had nothing to do with her  good deeds so much as her

C A T H O L I C     G U I L T

I joked and asked her if she was blaming The Pope on her good deed

and she joked back and told me it was more of the Nuns than The Pope.

I thanked her again for her

good deed

generosity

kindness

fear

guilt. . . .

It made me think about me

It made me think about you

It made me think about us

What ultimately makes us do what we do?

Are the reasons

P     U     R     E

or

Tainted ?

Was this about some kind of weird guarantee of getting a small spot in Heaven

or

Not wearing Asbestos underwear for Eternity?

SHOULD’S  =  GUILT

OUGHT’S  =  FEAR

HAVE-TO’S  =  GUILT/FEAR

WANT-TO’S  =  RAINBOW’S/POT’S OF ENDLESS GOLD

Some kinds of Choices, huh?

What do you Choose. . .

Or

What really CHOOSES YOU?

Can and Act of Kindness

just be an

A C T    OF    KINDNESS ?

(It Can.    .    .until.     .    .it CAN’T

Hmmmmmmmm of the Day:

Sometimes the higher The Eagle Ascends, not only the Closer to Heaven,

BUT  the Bigger the Splat of the White Stuff that always finds your Windshield. . . .

IF  YOU’RE  HELPING  SOMEONE  AND EXPECT  SOMETHING  IN  RETURN

IS     IT 

B U S I N E S S

or

K       I       N       D       N       E       S       S

?

The T I M E

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(This was originally posted on Friday, August 28, 2015, but because of some unexplained technical problems, it didn’t post as universal as expected; hence the reposting of this article)

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THE  TIME. . .

Do you have it?

Do you possess. . .o w n  it?

Was there just one, specific, distinct time you actually did. . .

When  T I M E

in reality. . .

S     T     O     P     P     E     D  ?

Monday

8/10/15

3:15:54 p.m.

was my

T       H       A       T

moment. . .

my point in time. . . .

When you find yourself on the other side of the sheets, you not only find them rougher, unsoothing, cutting, severely less than anything that could be considered comfortable. . .

THESE ARE THE  KNOWNS

from  THAT  side of the sheets.

It’s the

U          N          K          N          O          W          N          S

that makes the other side of the sheets so

g r a v e l l y

It had just been some 34 hours since Erin’s last of five seizures and there was a lot of disorientation, a vastness of confusion from her to me to the medical staff compassionately attempting to get an

exactness

on her condition. . .trying to isolate the

WHY, THE HOW COME, THE WHAT-FOR 

of it all.

Blood tests were taken; EEG was being studied; CT Scan was being evaluated; a not-so-good-MRI without Contrast freshly finished and now, literally in the middle of a Spinal Tap,

standing behind a thin curtain where I could hear the conversations of the medical staff, Erin and my daughter Zoey who was permitted to be present for The Tap to keep her mom still. . .

I felt the light hand pressure of another one of Erin’s Doctor’s on my shoulder.

When I turned around, she motioned me to come into the hall way

and in the few steps away from the curtain, The Procedure,

it took me to follow her to the hallway

my heart was a war drum in my chest. . .

a beat I can’t remember ever duplicated

because I knew in that very moment

at that VERY TIME

my life. . .

our life. . .

was potentially about the change

for an ever.

“We weren’t able to get an MRI with Contrast because she was moving around to much for us to administer the contrast, but we got a good enough MRI to definitively rule out any tumor or mass, any Hemorrhages or Bleeds and no sign of any Stroke.  We believe that it is an infection or a virus but we already were very proactive and began her on a high-powered IV Antibiotic, Acyclovir that should more than be capable of taking care of the infection. . .This is very good news, Congratulations.  Hopefully, this spinal tap will reveal what we are fighting. . . .”

I looked down at my watch as she turned and walked away.

My watch was blurry. . .

salt water in the eyes, causes that. . . .

I took a picture of my running watch.

I wanted to freeze that moment. . .

isolate it. . .

set it a part. . .

always recognize it. . .

OWN    IT

Monday, August 10, 2015; 3:15:54 p.m.

The other side of the sheets didn’t get any less rougher at that moment,

but they certainly got readjusted, fluffed up and  fabreezed

. . .the corners still weren’t tucked in, the center all smoothed out

their appearance mocked their texture. . .still

The Watch. . .kept keeping time. . .

held it prisoner

for what any Watch, Clock or Time Piece never fully reveals. . .

The All-Powerful

N     E     X     T

. . .because even if it’s GOOD NEWS. . .

there’s always a NEXT

. . .like when we found out that there was no mass or tumors, no hemorrhages, no stroke and with the early spinal tap results. . .

NO INFECTIONS/DISEASES. . .

N          E          X          T   !

(This is the second installment of four of THE ROUGH SIDE OF THE SHEETS; these are some of the lessons experienced, learned, and now hopefully, shared.  It’s my hope that you enjoy these journey-ings, and more, take the time to share a few of yours so that we can all learn a little more about those razor blade laden sheets. . .and in the sharing, soften them a little)

Doctoring

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How many Dr’s does it take to change a light bulb. . . ?

We all know a Doctor, most likely several of them.

We all have no doubt needed one, most likely more than once and for more than one thing. . . .

I had already known and worked with Dr. Jeff Spiess several years in the hospice setting when this story took place.

A Social Worker and I were meeting with a patient who had just come into the Hospice facility. We had just introduced ourselves, our roles and reasons for visiting with her and her daughter when Dr. Jeff came into the room.

He was beginning to apologize for interrupting us, when the patient said it was alright for all of us to be together with her and her daughter to talk with her.

Dr. Jeff once said that if there’s no empty seats in room, “SIT ON THE PORTABLE COMMODE, BECAUSE THEY ALWAYS CLEAN IT!”

Finding no bedside commode, he did one better: He sat on the floor in front of the patient and her daughter.

He asked her what her goals were and she went into a huge dissertation about how she was going to begin radiation therapy and then wanted to return home.

Dr. Spiess asked her a most awesome question that I had never heard another Doctor ask:

“Do I have permission to tell you some difficult news?”

She agreed.

“Well, Mrs. Johnson (I’m hip to HIPPA–not her real name), I’ve reviewed your chart and spoke with your primary physician and oncologist and not only don’t I think that the two weeks of radiation therapy will do much good, there’s a very strong chance that it will cause you even more pain and you most likely will not be able to survive it.”

Mrs. Johnson and her daughter both began to cry while the three of us provided supportive, quiet presence. It probably wasn’t any more than two minutes as we sat there with them and then the patient, in the arms of her daughter said, “THANK YOU. . .thank you for telling us the truth.”

Dr. Jeff then asked the next best question: “Knowing what you now know, what can I do for you? How can I help?”

Mrs. Johnson told us that she would like to just go home and be with her family.

Dr. Spiess told her he could make that happen and asked if she’d like to go THAT afternoon or the next morning.

Mrs. Johnson said she wanted to go that afternoon and we all confirmed that there would be medical equipment and medications to make that possible.

Dr. Jeff PERSONIFIED the Hospice philosophy at that moment.

Mrs. Johnson died ten days later.

I had the honor of conducting her Memorial Services. Her daughter spoke during the service and told
T H A T story. I’ll never forget, though it’s been several years now, what she said next:

“We came to a hospice facility searching for a cure and we found a Doctor who offered HEALING. Dr. Spiess didn’t give us years to be with our mother, but he provided precious moments we’ll have for the rest of our years!”

HOW MANY DOCTORS DOES IT TAKE TO CHANGE A LIGHT BULB?

Psssssst: When it’s the RIGHT DOCTOR–ZERO–no additional Light needed.

Dr. Jeffery Spiess is retiring today from Hospice of the Western Reserve, but not from the Memories, the Hearts, the Lives of many he’s treated and touched. . .Mine included. I’m a better chaplain, husband, father, grandfather, friend and joke-teller. . . .

Somehow. . .

GOOD BYE

doesn’t seem as appropriate as

T H A N K
Y O U !

Refrained

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Come, have a seat with me.

W H E W. . .

we made it.

It’s OVER

and Beginning, isn’t it?

T H A N K S G I V I N G

Sometimes the best thing that can be said of it is:

WE SURVIVED IT.

We survived food–lots of it.

We survived family–lots of them.

We survived football–lots of it.

We survived early BLACK FRIDAY stampedes–lots of them.

WE SURVIVED the THANKSGIVING-TUDE

. . .barely.

There are the 3 6 4 other days we have to contend with us being reminded
why
how
that
we are a Thankful people.

So. . .

as you put the Feast coma behind you

as you begin that not-so-long journey deeper into Happy Holiday time,

How about a little REFRAINING?

No, not that kind of refraining from Something, but the Refrain of that Song that just won’t leave your mind now that you’ve heard a huge dose of it.

A simple Refrain of:

STILL THANKFUL.

Join me:

That we’ve yet to live a day where the Sun comes up and goes down. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For Hands to hold and be Held. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For Prayers answered and unanswered. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For Hearts that beat and enhances the beating of other hearts. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For Songs not yet written, still being Sung. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For bodies that break and heal. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For minds that don’t know everything but capable of learning anything. . .

STILL ThANKFUL

For pockets that aren’t always full but stomachs that mostly are. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For houses that aren’t paid for, but shelter anyway. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For jobs that might not always be fruitful, but pay the bills. . .

For clothes not always in style, but offering cover, comfort and warmth. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For all that is and isn’t, was and wasn’t. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

For____________________________________________________. . .

STILL THANKFUL.

I call it my THANKSGIVING CHAIR. I don’t sit in it as often as I should–especially when I need to the most: WHEN I’M LEAST THANKFUL.

But. . .more and more over these past few weeks I have made my way to THAT place a little more often.

Do you have a THANKSGIVING CHAIR?

Is there a P L A C E

–In Good and Bad–

where you just go, just go and sit…

Just sit and experience, THANK YOU?

In many different ways, in many different places, with many different people,

we celebrated Thanksgiving, YESTERDAY.

For all that now remains. . .continues. . .begins. . .may the Refrain be constant:

STILL THANKFUL

Come. . .have a seat with me.

A Good Day

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Do you have less than 6 minutes. . .to spare?

It’s not that very long of a time…just barely more than what could actually be called a “MOMENT.”

Everything S H O U T E D

in me, NOT to post this Monday Morning video of the fabulous photography of Louis Schwartzberg…because we just don’t HAVE. . .

or TAKE the time to NOTICE

or RECOGNIZE

. . .See

. . .Look

at what is more a part of us than our next breath and just as important.

SERIOUSLY…did you watch it?

5:54

Did you?

This is THANKSGIVING WEEK.

With each passing Thanksgiving, I’m finding it’s not the day or the food, or the football games or the Gathering. . .it’s not a Season or a Day or a Moment…it’s a Lifestyle.

W H E N. . .

I F. . .

We understand that it’s NOT who’s around the table, but WHO’S NEVER ABSENT FROM IT. . .

IT’S A GOOD DAY!

Don’t wait for Thanksgiving to happen on the last Thursday of every November. . .

Celebrate it NOW!

. . .It’ll only guarantee one thing:

A GOOD DAY!

Psssssst: And That’s enough!

When Competition, Isn’t….

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52922

Does it ever end well. . .?

An older Pizza Hut Delivery man comes marching into McDonald’s at one of their most busiest times, right at lunch hour.

You could see that both of the Drive-Thru Lanes were packed and there were three lines of hungry people, four or five deep waiting to place their orders.

This Pizza Hut Delivery Guy wasn’t about to wait in line. As soon as he got to the center of store, he started, very loudly yelling, “WHERE’S THE MANAGER? I WANT TO SPEAK TO THE MANGER, NOW!” The loud

N O W

Almost sounded like an angry dog before he was ready to sink his teeth into any soft flesh available.

Everyone stood there stunned. It got very quiet.

No cash registers were ringing.

No orders were being taken.

No one was moving.

No one expected a good outcome.

Would you?

Does a scene set up like this ever end up well?

Their was hushed mumbling and then yelling for “RON” (Oh the Irony–RON–Seriously? A distant relative of THE RONALD McDONALD?)

to get out to the front.

Uh-oh. . .there he was. RON, a young manager in a not-so-white-stained-barely-tucked-in-shirt with a black wrinkled tie, and dirty eye-glasses that were somewhat askew.

SHOW TIME:

“You the manager,” the Pizza Hut Delivery man more accused than asked?

“Yes sir, my name is Ron. How may I be of help?”

“Well I came here to get something straight,” he started out, not in any low tone manner.

EVERYONE WAS WATCHING THIS…MUST SEE REALITY. . . .

“My mother was in here the other day,” the Pizza Hut man continued, “and she kinda got stuck over there in that booth. She’s having trouble getting around and she said everyone was laughing and no one was out here helping her. . . ,”

“Sir,” Ron butted in to begin defending himself, but Pizza Man was having none of it.

He put his hand up in front of Ron’s face as he continued.

“Hold on there, Son. She said everyone was laughing and snickering and talking about her and no one was doing a thing and then you came out and brought her a coffee and a glass of water and you helped her out.”

This went

H A L L M A R K

quicker than you could say: M c P I Z Z A. . . .

And then, then came the McPLAUSE and rightfully so.

Pizza Man pulled a steaming, hot pizza from his delivery bag as he said, “Here, Ron, it ain’t much but a man who does good deserves good.”

And with that he hands him over a Pizza–SPECIAL DELIVERY–as it were.”

People applauded and cheered. A few whistled.

They shook hands and then hugged.

I WANTED TO KNOW. . .to HEAR what Pizza Man told Ron McDonald Manager as they hugged there for a moment.

Quite a moment. . .still is.

When the Competition, ISN’T. . .the most amazing things happen.

Professional Speaker, Author, Assurance Man