The Caring Catalyst

Who Cares - What Matters

Never On Empty

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Some call it a Coincidence.

Some call it Happenstance.

Some call it Spooky.

Some call it on Purpose.

Some call it Compassionate Kindness.

Some call it an Accident.

Some call it Grace.

Some call it a Hospice Moment.

It was the day of his funeral.

I only met him once. The second time I went to visit him on a pure whim, (I had talked to his daughter earlier in the day and we decided I would come the next day) he had died just about ten minutes before I arrived.

The relationship here, was mostly with the family that I spent time providing supportive presence and active listening/validation of feelings/comments; facilitating life/faith/family review. There were lots of stories, ‘once-upon-a-time’s,’ and ‘remember-when’s.’

He was born in 1925 and lived life in all capital letters; lied to get into the Navy to fight in WWII and never minded doing for another what needed to be done even before they knew it needed done.

All stories I had gladly heard from family members. All to help me gather information as we planned a memorial service to, Remember, Honor and Celebrate his life.

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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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A Moment, A Lifetime….

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Amazing how a Lifetime can actually be lived in a moment…and often is.

Some people who watched this short video, that seems to be flying all over YouTube and the Internet, have said it was staged.

Some have actually criticized the man on the steps, who shared his pizza, couldn’t have been that poor because he had money for not so inexpensive cigarettes.

Some assume that this is a nice little story, maybe even a beautiful parable of how to Receive by Giving.

Some have stated it’s a waste of a little over a minute they’ll never be able to reclaim in their lives.

Some believe that the biggest problem in our society today is that we enable a whole generation of homeless to become nothing any greater in their day to day lives than just being homeless.

Some believe that God helps those who are only out there helping themselves and others.

Some think that altruism is all-too-much.

Some think we give to get.

Some consider that what they have worked for and have is Their’s NOT to share freely.

Some trust that by giving pieces of pizza is no way to show others how to make their own.

Some anticipate being punished and discriminated against by not giving to every need before them.

SOME…

THEM…

THEY…

are people.

When we clump the Some’s, the Them’s, the They’s together they become more faceless, less significant, and easier to neglect or simply not notice.

…Maybe it’s no longer about DESERVING or GIVING or Determining how many times PAST ONE is it alright NOT to be a Good Samaritan?

When we give every once in a while, we miss the truest gift of giving EVERY TIME.

When we fail to give…

WE FAIL…

badly!

Hmmmmmmmmm…when we fail to give some change, a few paper bills, sandwiches, blankets, gloves, coats, shirts, socks, shoes, a piece of pizza or____________________________________, we hold on to something that’s not wholly ours, or can be completely kept after our last pulse.

Yeah-but….

Ahhhhh, The “YEAH-BUT.”

Cage that vicious animal.

The “Yeah-But” becomes tame when we simply stop using it…

NOW!

Your Last Words

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I’m Sorry.

I was wrong.

Forgive me.

Give me another Chance.

Is there anything I can do to make it better?

I love you.

Not bad words at anytime, are they?

They may be classic LAST WORDS…but that’s the problem, isn’t it?

We really don’t know the actual Last Words you we might speak to Someone else.

WOULD IT REALLY CHANGE ANYTHING IF WE DID–If we actually knew that our words, any one we may even be thinking right now, might be the last ones we either spoke, or that another might hear?

Of course we say, “A B S O L U T E L Y,” but Hypothesizing or even Knowing, is not really
DOING, is it?

But…but does that mean we shouldn’t try?

I complimented a hostess at McDonald’s yesterday. I told her that she has a real gift in dealing with people and how much I appreciated her not just taking care of me, but being most excellent at what she does. I went on to tell her that her cheery outlook made my morning brighter and because of her enthusiasm I was absolutely going to make sure that I would do the same with the people I was going to meet today.

She smiled and thanked me for being so nice. And then proved it by giving me three coupons, one for what I had just ordered and two more for future orders!

No big deal, huh? But, but, what if it were the last thing she ever did? Wonder if it was the literal last thing that someone ever did for me?

What if the last word you spoke before reading this was YOUR LAST? Satisfied? Room for improvement?

I’m sorry.

I was wrong.

Forgive me.

Give me another chance.

Is there anything I can do to make it better?

I love you.

Sand Art and Baseball

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Cancer and kids don’t mix; never should. In fact, cancer and people, no matter how old the KID, never mix.

She just turned nine. She has cancer. I got to meet her and her sister and mother today, the first and most likely for the last time.

It was a Supervisory I made with a colleague, who was superb. We read a story about the different colors we often feel and are. We put different colored sand in bottles, carefully layered. We drew pictures, laughed, talked and laughed some more and then left.

I felt Compassion. It was a light-baby-blue color that lapped over me like warm Caribbean waves.

Cancer and kids don’t mix; never should.

I left there and drove 45 minutes to a nursing home and visited a 79 year old kid. She has cancer, too. She was eating her lunch and watching her TV with the volume almost up to the max. We didn’t read stories, make sand art or draw…but we did laugh. She told me of how some hospice volunteers and staff took her to a Cleveland Indians game and how she didn’t have A hotdog or A beer, but TWO hotdogs and TWO beers. With a huge, mostly toothless smile, she gushed about how a ball boy reached over the railing and gave her a ball–which she had secretively hidden so that it ‘wouldn’t roll away into someone else’s keeping.’

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Toughest Job

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HB3xM93rXbY

Is it the worst job ever?

To be sure, it’s ONE job, few would ever apply, accept, or keep…and yet, there are well over a billion that holds the actual gut-wretching-never-ending position.

And to that there are only Two Words, never said enough days before, Day of, or days after. . .

T H A N K Y O U.

Go hug a mom…and if you can’t. . .

HUG A CHILD OF ONE–hard and just a little longer than usual!

…happy mother’s day–Every Day!

Taking Back TRUST a DVD at a Time

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It was suppose to be a simple trip.

A favor that turned into a furor!

Why do things go all ka-fluey when there’s just no reason for them NOT to go smoothly?

Don’t tell me: “JUST BECAUSE!”

Don’t tell me: “It’s a fate thing?”

Don’t tell me: “Mr. Murphy has moved next door and wants to be intimately close to you.”

Don’t tell me that sometimes when I look at something square on without blinking that I still can’t see if for the very life of me.

I went to the Redbox kiosk as the rain beat down on me like a war drum gone amok. I tried pressing the RIGHT buttons but, oh, no, Mr Murphy on a Christmas morn with an Easter sunrise, the Redbox machine was more frozen than an iceberg in January.

As I was ‘praying’ an unheard sanctuary prayer, a couple came running from their car to return their DVD and when I told them of the problem, they too joined me in this unholy litany to the Redbox gods.

And then, then it happened. I told them that I was going to go to another Redbox a few miles a way and if they wanted, I would be glad to return their two DVD’s.

They didn’t pause. They said, “Would you? That would be so nice of you.”

They shoved the DVD’s in my hand quicker than they could have ever done to that Redbox machine. And they ran back to the car faster than the next raindrop and were gone.

They trusted me. They trusted me with about $100.00 worth of their DVD movies. They trusted ME!

On the way to the next Redbox kiosk (about three miles) away, I was no longer mad at a favor turned bad. I was a little more humbled, a little more encouraged and validated.

What, what made them trust me? Was it the rain? Was it the baby crying in the back seat and wanting to get home NO MATTER WHAT THE COST? Was it my face? A kind offer that surprised/shocked them? Was it the frustration of a frozen Redbox machine? What?

What do we show people? How are we ultimately seen? Kind? Sincere? Compassionate? Trustworthy?

I can’t pass THAT or any other Redbox kiosk now and not ask myself those kind of questions.

Come on, there’s day’s when I do everything I can NOT to look my way for any reason.

Maybe this is a kind, a compassionate reason for all of us to be reminded, “It’s no longer enough just ‘not to be so bad,” but to be kind, compassionate, giving TO BE KIND, COMPASSIONATE and GIVING.

Maybe the “T” in Trust actually begins with an “I?”

Maybe we can actually ‘take back’ TRUST one DVD at a time. . . ?

Maybe THAT’S the special feature we all need to do more than just renting out or simply viewing…?

Maybe. . . .

Believing In Good

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It’s the universal law of life, right?

YOU GIVE…YOU GET!

. . .But wonder if it’s not all that Universal…wonder if there’s NEVER a pay off, nothing added to a 401K or a meager Bank Account? Wonder if you got NOTHING for any, for EVERY thing you give. Would you still keep it up?

Wonder if truly the only thing you ever got for a kind act was only the shaking of a head, or frustration and anger…or, NO THANKS or Recognition in the tiniest of forms?

WOULD YOU STILL KEEP IT UP?

Wonder if all you got was just pure, unadulterated Emotions. A smile? A nod? A faithful, following dog? A hug? Witnessing someone truly benefiting from your kind, compassionate giving.

WOULD YOU STILL KEEP IT UP?

The World often becomes better not in big, huge ways, but small, almost unnoticed ways that often go UN-thanked and UN-paid.

See.

Be.

Free…that magnificent Light that allows others to not only be in the Brightness but also in the Warmth that often accompanies.

Make YOUR limelight be their Spotlight!

Find WAYS to out do, out give, out live yourself and you won’t have to worry about the World rewarding you…IT will be BENEFIT Enough!

Princess Unawares

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They really live anywhere, but still you wouldn’t expect to find ONE there. . . .

It was a Friday afternoon and the air still couldn’t figure out if it was the last day of Winter or the First day of Spring.

It was quiet in the hall way of the nursing home, well after lunch, with many naps in progress.

But not her. She was sitting in a wheelchair in front of the nurses station. She noticed me right away, this Keeper of the Hall way Kingdom.

“Hey, WHO ARE YOU?”

“My name’s Chuck,” I said to her.

“WHO?”

“My name is Chuck. I’m a Chaplain.”

“Come over here, I want to see your name tag,” she demanded.

I went over and knelt down in front of her and she grabbed the name tag I had clipped on my shirt and she first smiled and then started laughing…almost hysterically.

“What’s so funny,” I asked her?

“You’re Charlie Chaplain!”

I laughed with her and smiling back, owned it, “Yes I am.”

“Well, WHO AM I,” she asked, looking confused?

“You don’t know?”

“No, really, I don’t know. Who am I?”

“Well you’re a Princess!”

“A Princess?”

“Absolutely. A Princess. I knew it as soon as I started walking down this hall way and I really knew it when you asked me who I was?”

“And who am I,” an aide asked as she came from behind the nurses station?

“Well, you have the most important job of all, ma’am. You’re the Caretaker of the Princess, making her even more special than she is, every day and night!”

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Chipped Ham Sandwiches

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Chipped Ham Sandwiches!

Quick: WHAT COMES TO MIND?

Hunger? Mayo? Mustard? Barbecue? Fresh Bread? Picnics? Packed Lunches? Root Beer? Pickles?

Or Him?

For me, it’s always him.

Junior High through High School and then a few times during Christmas vacations or quick Summer visits.

Chipped Ham sandwiches.

It was his signature move, but not his only one.

On Friday night sleepover’s he’d make them after basketball practice. The freshest of Italian Bread slices, sometimes with thinly sliced tomatoes and an even thinner layer of mayo. It was a masterpiece, too good, almost to eat and always slow enough to savor.

He lived his life with the same kind of Masterpiece living. He always spoke softly with a smile and kept his car clean enough to eat a sandwich or a holiday meal. His garage and house was impeccable, nothing ever out of place and I loved always the perfect fire in the basement fireplace on cold winter evenings.

He loved Sinatra and was even more of a GENTLE man. He was a perfect compliment to a wife he adored and his two children whom he cherished.

He always asked of family and others before sharing of himself. I never knew of one of his needs, even when he was hurt in a steel mill accident.

I would often see him walking a track that I ran on in both of our adult years and he would always nod in acknowledgement and extend a hand before you could get one out of your pocket.

He has grieved heroically since his wife died suddenly in 2007 and I hadn’t seen or talked with or seldom of him since.

I had heard of his death like so many other things I learn of these days: A Facebook post.

I thought of Chipped Ham Sandwiches and the ease, skill and expertise he showed as he made them very shortly after unpacking his other groceries.

I will attend his funeral today out of respect for him and mostly his Son who has been my best friend since 8th grade.

I will Honor and celebrate Him with some shared memories.

I will Remember…and be thankful for the small, great things that make Life significant. I will take the things I’ve known; the very things I’ve admired, respected; the things I’ve loved and cherished and make them a part of myself–I’ll share them as they’ve been shared with me…so that others may remember and share alike one day on my behalf, too.

. . .and I will eat a chipped ham sandwich. . .

Maybe, Two!

Professional Speaker, Author, Assurance Man