The Caring Catalyst

Who Cares - What Matters

NOT JUST ANOTHER DAY AFTER

By Leave a Comment

One of my favorite memories for years on end was one that I was never a part of.

It was always the day after Thanksgiving and very early after coffee and nut roll and a light breakfast, my sister, my mother, my grandmother, and sometimes my aunt would all venture either downtown, or in very later years, to the mall to do what to shop fericiously, even before there was a Black Friday.

And shop they did; they invented the phrase SHOP TILL YOU DROP, and they literally would come home exhausted with packages upon packages, most of them not wrapped because that was another venture, too. They would come home to what hungry people, mostly the kids and the guys who didn’t go shopping all day but sat around and watched football and waited and waited and waited for the girls to come home so that they could scarf down the reheated Thanksgiving dinner that we had the night before.  It was the same dinner and yet, somehow, it tasted better if that’s possible; maybe the tired but happy hands that prepared it was just the PINCH of that little something, something that made it taste better; no matter, it was delicious, even in memory form these 55-60 years later.

Why did it always taste better then?  Why would a memory like this bring so much peace when I wasn’t even a part of it?  But what I was a part of, the very fact of that feeling that it brought me when I can still hear the crunch of the gravel knowing that they were home safely and what was about the follow was another great meal even better family time and sometimes a game of trivia pursuit.  It defined fun in a way a dictionary never has been able to capture.  It brought peace in a way that nice ocean waves or a calm lake or a babbling. brook never could interpret.  And what it brought most of the time couldn’t be defined, or couldn’t be explained and even now barely understood, even all of these years later.  But the thought of it, the memory in my crevices, I can experience it all over again even taste it, so much so, there’s nothing that can be opened out of a can or brought out of a refrigerator or re-heated that equals it.

That was Thanksgiving in a way that didn’t just last a day or a weekend but continued throughout the season because we all knew what was going to follow: More shopping, the baking of cookies and yes, Christmas and better still the week between Christmas and New Year’s. It was a Wonderland that to this day transforms me to a WANDERLAND, one that you never wanted to wander away from. Even now I wander back into that amazing Wonder, not wanting to leave thinking, knowing nothing can ever compare or replace it.

So you see it’s not just a day after, it’s an everlasting day that was, that is, and thankfully right now, as long as my memory holds out, will always be.          .          .

As much as you JUST

celebrated THANKSGIVING

.         .          .and even though your Stomach might still be full,

I hope your heart is EMPTY enough to

truly continue this Season of

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

.          .          .may it be way better than you have planned

or    i m a g i n e d
(as you WANDER through your WONDER of yesteryears)

JUST A MOMENT: WHEN A MUG HOLDS MORE THAN JUST A DRINK

By 2 Comments

It’s a simple
yet a very profound question.           .          .
What makes your mug your mug.          .          .          ?
What literally gives it
not just meaning
but it’s sip-ability
It’s amazing even when it’s empty
When it’s your mug
It’s filled with much more
than your favorite beverage or drink.           .          .
It’s filled with once upon a time in memories
and significant  just a moments
and they’re so overflowing
that it can’t help but to be shared
with another
.            .            .What makes your mug
your mug.       .       .       ?
In just a moment
without even a paused ponder
you know
and sharing what you know
of these sip-abilities
is most holy
S   I   P
O N

ONE DAY

By Leave a Comment

The one day of it all is just as unthinkable as it is unimaginable and yet it doesn’t cancel out the one day of it all that’ll never make it across our calendars or all the ones we love and never have the chance to know or love that we call
family. . . .

HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT ABOUT THIS:

In 100 years like in 2124 we will all be buried with our relatives and friends.          .          .

Strangers will live in our homes we fought so hard to build, and they will own everything we have today. All our possessions will be unknown and unborn, including the car we spent a fortune on, and will probably be scrap, preferably in the hands of an unknown collector.            .            .

Our descendants will hardly or hardly know who we were, nor will they remember us. How many of us know our grandfather’s father?

After we die, we will be remembered for a few more years, then we are just a portrait on someone’s bookshelf, and a few years later our history, photos and deeds disappear in history’s oblivion. We won’t even be memories.

If we paused one day to analyze these questions, perhaps we would understand how ignorant and weak the dream to achieve it all was.            .            .

If we could only think about this, surely our approaches, our thoughts would change, we would be different
people.          .          .

Always having more, no time for what’s really valuable in this life. I’d change all this to live and enjoy the walks I’ve never taken, these hugs I didn’t give, these kisses for our children and our loved ones, these jokes we didn’t have time
for.            .            .

Those would certainly be the most beautiful moments to remember, after all they would fill our lives with joy.
And we waste it day after day with greed, greed and intolerance.            .            .
Anonymous,

The freshly dug earth resembles coffee grounds that will never be roasted, certainly never brewed, and most absolutely never drunk. Take a sip of what you can drink, and save her not what you have, not what you could have had, not what one day you might have had, but who you are: The Dust of the Earth; Brewed.  Enjoyed.  Savored and at its best, shared with another.            .            .

JUST CALL ME, IRV

By Leave a Comment

It’s not all that unusual to get a call on a Sunday afternoon asking whether or not I can do a service, even if it’s the day before Memorial Day.  That is exactly what happened this past Sunday  and they were asking if I could do the Invocation and the Benediction for the Memorial Day services held annually at the historic Lake View Cemetery in Cleveland, Ohio

I’ll be honest with you, my first knee-jerk reaction was this is may not be a good idea, not because it’s too late notice but because Erin, my wife was recovering from a killer kidney stones removal procedure just the day before; but this is where that strange duck of me that waddles and quacks a little bit differently sort of enters.

Maybe it’s an excuse, but I rationalize and say it’s a reason, in fact, one of the biggest reasons why I’m here and if somebody asks me to do something and I’m available to do it, I feel like it’s a divine intervention of sorts; that I have an obligation to fulfill the request.  Yes, egotistical as it sounds and maybe even more glaringly appears. I feel like it’s a divine intervention for me not to do it, for me to accept (or else I would have never been asked in the first place).

I gladly accepted the invitation to fill in for somebody who took sick and couldn’t do the Invocation and the Benediction. His name is already printed in the bulletin

It didn’t matter to me if I stood up in front of others and they thought I might be Irv Aplis.  Besides, the Master of Ceremonies, Tim Garfield, a direct descendant of President Garfield, took care of that:


I didn’t repeat my name as Chuck Behrens, a Spiritual Care Coordinator with Hospice of the Western Reserve. I stood before a crowd honoring the memory of many and the honor of all and gave what I thought to be an Invocation and Benediction worthy of a Memorial Day observation; to be sure, it wouldn’t have been the one that Irv Aplis, Veteran and Past Commander of The American Legion Post #759 would have given but it’s the one that I was invited to give.

Yes, like so many other occasions I wasn’t there to save the day. I was humble enough to be recognizing that I was there to be saved by the day and it was magical.  With the band playing, bagpiper piping, and the address that was worthy of a Memorial Day given and received, I and all the many people on a rainy day were there to remember and more importantly, to prove we haven’t forgotten, the memories of the many and the honor for all.

Yeah, you may be right. It’s a rationalization but the next time I get a text or call, this will be another reason not an excuse. Another reason why I’ll probably say, “Absolutely, I’m available and I’d be glad to help. Tell me how.”

I know. I KNOW, I’m a strange duck, or at least one that waddles and quacks differently.

Now here’s the question and it may be a little more difficult to answer than it seems:

HOW DO YOU ANSWER THAT CALL?

HOW DO YOU RESPOND TO THAT TEXT?

Something nudges me deep from your Within’s to my WITHIN’S:
THE SAME WAY.          .          .

And if you’re still reading this, you are a Caring Catalyst to do so
THE NEXT TIME~~
Pssssssssssssssssssssst:
AND THERE’S ALWAYS A NEXT TIME~~GO AHEAD,
Be an Irv Aplis
the next time he may not be able but
YOU ARE

RE-MEMBERING

By 2 Comments


Happy Memorial Day.

How can you assure it?

One simple word:

R E-M E M B E R I N G

–literally, by putting together the Pieces of your Life that have meaning and significance to you the Ones who make those Memories worth
RE-Membering–Putting back together.     .     .

The World will debate and argue, but the greatest forces in and out of this World
are our Memories

and the Love that makes those memories
significant,
meaningful
and always worth
observing and celebrating.        .        .

It’s easy to  J U S T  Limit these Memories to our Veterans

or for those who have recently died,

but any day we truly
RE-Member,

that we actually put together those snipets of

Once  Upon  a Times

and ‘Remember When’s’

that put all those glorious colors to the
Tapestry of our Lives,

becomes a true Memorial Day.

Like any Holiday,
it really is celebrated most,

not so much on it’s Noted,
Dated Day,

but when fully Recognized,
Realized,
Revitalized
again and again and again with,

yes, that one single, beautiful thing called

M   e   m   o   r   y

So, on this Memorial Day,

R      E   –   M     E     M     B     E     R  :

It’s not enough for us to just merely
Remember,

but for us to just simply Re-Member one thought,

one memory
past Eternity.

T r u l y:

Give   thanks   not   so   much   for   those   who   have   died;                                                                      

but    for   those   who   still   fully   live   within   us   all.      .      . 

F i v e    W o r d s:

H   a   p   p   y       M   e   m   o   r   i   a   l       D   a   y.       .       .

T        H        A        N        K

Y        O        U

(This Memorial Day, we remember those who sacrificed their lives for our freedom. Our thoughts and prayers are with all of those who are grieving. May we, as Abraham Lincoln said at Gettysburg, “highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”)

FREEZE THE FRAME

By Leave a Comment

We all have those
FREEZE THE FRAME MOMENTS
that make memories even more precious than they are
especially this time of the year.         .        .

This is one of my
FREEZE THE FRAME MOMENTS.           .          .
This picture of my sister and I was taken in front of my grandparents fireplace on a Christmas morning. I was two and my sister was 4. It was before my two other brothers were born. I have no idea what I got for Christmas that morning but I know the people who gave me the gifts loved me and even in death, still do which is
THE BEST GIFT OF ALL.      .     .
What’s your
FREEZE THE FRAME MOMENT?
No matter what they may have been
or even if they are in the making
it allows us to know that our
 M          E          M          O           R          I          E          S
mean
N O T H I N G
unless
L          O          V          E
is attached to them
and then they are everything they are
everything they were
and everything they’re to become
FREEZE THE FRAME
and may your greatest memories
be those yet to be
f r a m e a b l e

 

EMPTY CHAIR’D

By 4 Comments

THE EMPTY CHAIR
Will stare you down
Glare back
Blink not
Because it holds the
h a l l o w e d
power of
M    E    M    O    R    I    E    S

ANGUISH:
The lack of Blindness
that illuminates
The Empty Chair
at a Holiday Table

The best thing about an
EMPTY CHAIR
At the Table
Is that it has a Meaning
No other Emptiness
Could ever hold
or Capture

It WHISPERS:
I’m still here
It SHOUTS:
Remember When

The Blessing
of an
EMPTY CHAIR
Is it cradles what can’t be held
No Hurt
No Grief
No Pain
No Loss
No Emptiness
That’s caused by a power
Much stronger than all of those things
Together:
L O V E

There’s nothing that shouts louder
Than a Silent Space
There’s nothing more full
Than an
EMPTY CHAIR
A heart will always Shout
What a mouth can’t Whisper
EMPTY CHAIR
That reminds of scents
That holds little sense
That makes no cents
But always keeps us
To what Was
Tortured to what Is
Foreigners to what
For an Ever
Will always be

And the worst of the worst
The baddest of the bad
The grievous of the grief
isn’t
THE EMPTY CHAIR

It’s the
s m a l l e s t
slow rusting rotting
EMPTY CHAIR
that holds
what never was
reminding us
painfully
of all of the memories
that’ll never be
created
experienced
imagined

Leaving us
not only
Empty Chair’d
But Spilled OUT
Off our Rocker
POURED OUT

The only thing worse than getting
EMPTY CHAIR’D
is being
NO CHAIR’D

Forever leaving blank the phrases:
I REMEMBER THE TIME:
I’LL NEVER FORGET THE TIME:
or better yet,
WHAT ABOUT THE TIME:
.          .          .because the worst memories of all
ARE THOSE NEVER CREATED.          .          .          
EMPTY CHAIR’D

SNOW MAN LOVE

By Leave a Comment

Sometimes a song is much more than notes
and lyrics are much more than words.          .         .

Don’t cry snowman, not in front of me Who will catch your tears if you can’t catch me, darlin’? If you can’t catch me, darlin’? Don’t cry, snowman, don’t leave me this way A puddle of water can’t hold me close, baby Can’t hold me close, baby

I want you to know that I’m never leaving Cause I’m Mrs. Snow, ’till death we’ll be freezing Yeah, you are my home, my home for all seasons So come on let’s go Let’s go below zero and hide from the sun I’ll love you forever where we’ll have some fun Yes, let’s hit the North Pole and live happily Please don’t cry no tears now, it’s Christmas baby

My snowman and me My snowman and me Baby

Don’t cry, snowman, don’t you fear the sun Who’ll carry me without legs to run, honey? Without legs to run, honey? Don’t cry, snowman, don’t you shed a tear Who’ll hear my secrets if you don’t have ears, baby? If you don’t have ears, baby?

I want you to know that I’m never leaving ‘Cause I’m Mrs. Snow, ’till death we’ll be freezing Yeah, you are my home, my home for all seasons So come on let’s go Let’s go below zero and hide from the sun I’ll love you forever where we’ll have some fun Yes, let’s hit the North Pole and live happily Please don’t cry no tears now, it’s Christmas baby

My snowman and me My snowman and me Baby

Notes: I don’t own anything. All credits goes to Sia and the company Cineplex which created this animation. Please support Sia. 🙂 Don’t forget to check them: http://www.cineplex.com/ http://www.youtube.com/siavevo/


Sometimes a song is much more than notes
and lyrics are much more than words.          .         .

ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU EXPERIENCE THEM

THE SAND AND THE FOAM

By 2 Comments

The Sand And The Foam – Dan Fogelberg Inspired by Khalil Gibran’s book “Sand and Foam”. from The Innocent Age Album (released 1981) (The Sand And The Foam Lyrics)

Dawn, like an angel, lights on the step Muting the morning she heralds Dew on the grass like the tears the night wept Gone long before the day wears old (Chorus) Time stills the singing a child holds so dear And I’m just beginning to hear Gone are the pathways the child followed home Gone like the sand and the foam Pressed in the pages of some aging text Lies an old lily a-crumbling Marking a moment of childish respects Long since betrayed and forgotten (Chorus) (Repeat First Verse and Chorus) Gone like the sand Gone like the sand Gone like the sand and the foam

I remember getting this vinyl album (AND I STILL HAVE IT) when it was first released in 1981.  I was a little over a year of being ordained and used it for youth group workshops when we talked about LIFE and yes, DEATH.

It was 13 years before I began my journey as a hospice chaplain and I’ve heard it countless times since 1981 and have it on multiple playlists I play.  It takes on an entirely different meaning to me now some 28 years later, long down my hospice journey road.

When it popped up randomly the other day, I was sitting in a parking lot of a Walmart with 33 minutes before a funeral I was going to conduct.  I wonder if Fogelberg was thinking about his own life/death and the ever-so-brief frailty and quickness of life.  He died in 2007 after battling advanced prostate cancer for three years.

AGAIN…the words took on a different meaning for me.

As I kept hitting repeat
REPEATEDLY
these words came to my shore
and hopefully now will ebb up on yours
As we do our own dance with
The Sand and the Foam:

YOU CAN’T BE LATE FOR MY FUNERAL

It may be too cold
Rainy
or a snow that wants to imitate it
It may be hot
With a humidity that begs for a breeze
not to be found
It may be greening Spring
a Summer’s hued sunset
A Fall’s Frosted pumpkin morning
Or a Winter’s pristine glistening white snowfall afternoon
You can’t be late for my funeral
It’s been indefinitely canceled
Postponed for a day
that doesn’t exist
You can’t be late for my funeral
because there’ll be no celebration of my life
No curious resurrection
If something never ended
but continued on in other ongoing ways
What makes for a HAPPY ENDING
is knowing there’s never an
everlasting one

RECLAMATION PROJECT

By Leave a Comment

We used to play
ARMY
for hours on end
just about anywhere we were
The Beach
The Playground
The Living Room
The Basement
The Backyard
There was no place that was exempt
which means some 25 years later
we are still finding green plastic army men
with every landscaping change
flower planting
shrub/bush placements
that somehow make
THESE FINDINGS
much more than just turning some dirt over


which unearthed this in me
with the most recent finding.          .          .

Each shovel full of dirt
Was as uncovering
An archeological dig
That unearthed treasures
That could only be held in
Chests of sacred heartbeats
Made more holy by memories
And ones not yet made
No seed could ever yield
Such a harvest
No tilling or nurtured watering
Could produce such a bloom
And though once buried
Never left behind
No matter how deeply dark
The covering
which  uncovers the truth
That any reclamation
Begins an never ending season of joy
Not yet experienced
Or ever fadingly forgotten

There are some things that just will never grow in the richest of soils.          .          .
NOR DOES IT EVER HAVE TO
for the
Power of Reclamation
springs forth with no seeds necessary
because Memories
are all that’s needed
.          .          .no watering required

Professional Speaker, Author, Assurance Man