The Caring Catalyst

Who Cares - What Matters

UnSmothered Love

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The line has stuck with me for well over

T W E N T Y     Y E A R S.     .     .

and I suspect for the rest of my life as a father;

Did you hear it?

Is it one of your favorite lines, too,

in the SHADOW  OF  FATHER’S  DAY.          .          .

“YOUR   FLAWS   AS   A   SON   ARE   MY   FAILURES   AS   A   FATHER.”

S E R I O U S L Y:

Have you ever thought,

“IF I WAS A BETTER PARENT,
maybe my children would be better,
not suffered as much”

Yes, I have suffered many little deaths
along the way as any dad would/does.     .       .      
Children always have a way of ripping your heart out
without a scalpel and tramping  
on your aorta;
watching it as flutters,
sputters blood
and seamlessly stops beating
by either what they say/do
or don’t say or do.      .     .
But my father’s heart has never stopped loving,
never stop caring,
never stop giving,
never stopped worrying,
and I believe it’s what makes me who I am
and who I want to continue to be.           .          .
It’s hard work;
it’s an endless job
from which I will never retire
and of which I will never seek to do so.         .          .

Now for that
MISSING PIECE. . .
completing 
t h a t
puzzle of
UnSMOTHERED
L O V E
and in the meantime, 
still very much in the shadow of Father’s Day
I’m beyond grateful for 
Oliva, Gina, Angie, Zoe and Connor 
MAKING this Father
a much better 
DAD

ARE YOU AN ELEVATOR?

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I recently read a short little blurb from Lou Hecker that I’ll now share with you:

I’ve been thinking about “elevators” — the people who help us get to the next level in our professions and our lives.  This was prompted by a nice piece in the New York Times about Al Horford — a professional basketball player with the Boston Celtics and a former player here in Gainesville for the Florida Gators.  At age 38 (when MOST players are long retired) . Horford is still very much a contributor for his team — one on which some players are close to half his age.  He credits Tom Brady, the former NFL quarterback who told him how he lasted so long as a pro…Duke Werner, a strength and conditioning coach at the University of Florida, who taught him about injury prevention…LeBron James (one year older than Horford) who gave him some ideas about longevity in sports…and even the professional cook who has prepared meals for him for the last ten years!

So are YOU an ELEVATOR. OR, are you just some random pusher of buttons that’ll never knowingly take people DOWN or UP without ever really knowing which way for sure?

Come on, as Caring Catalysts in our own ways, we possess the power to always take Another up another level they never knew existed, but one of the hugest questions of all, person by person, situation by situation is:
WILL WE?


We all need a LIFT, Right
WE CAN ALL BE A LIFT,
Right.             .             .            ?

 

JUST A MOMENT: YOUR DEW(DUE)

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If we were mandated to look at all things, literally to just pause, to take a moment and look at all the things that we miss in just a moment, we not only would be a appalled,  we would be embarrassed by what we don’t see or worse by what we don’t recognize because we are just too busy; we don’t have time or take the time and besides it’s just dew on a small little leaf so what?  Indeed, so why take just a moment for the moment to change you, that you may be changed by it, in just a moment. Not an hour. Not a day. Not a 30 day intensive program; No. just a mere minute moment.       .       .

THE SO WHAT OF DEW
It’s too delicate to even be a drop of rain
It clings to a small stem of tall grass
as if all of life eternal depended
on it never letting go
It withstood the trauma 
of being brushed up against
and worse, The deep wound of 
Being unnoticed 
Still, this small dribble of dew 
invites in a moment of your time
a slice of opportunity to know like it,
You too, may be unnoticed,
but have the power of just a moment
to give Another
A piece of Waiting to just Wonder
A sliver of Stillness
Serenity smidgens
to know that the so what of dew
is really a so what of you. 

G O N E

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THE STORY BEHIND THE SONG “GONE.”

Story written by Jim Chappell November 16, 2009

My girlfriend decided we wanted to get a kitten and raise it. The next day we went over to the local SPCA to look through the orphaned animals and see if maybe we could rescue one. They let us go into the large kennel area where all of the cats were kept, and immediately this small, all white kitten bounded happily over to say hi to us. “What a jolly little soul,” we thought.. This particular cat was so much more full of energy than the others who just listlessly stared out at us. So we decided this little guy was the one and filled out the papers so we could take him home. Lenny, as we decided to call him, turned out to be quite the little bundle of energy! He absolutely loved to play constantly by hopping around on the furniture, playing some odd type of Hide-and-Seek, and whatever else he could get into mischief-wise to keep entertained. Overall he was a great source of joy though and we were glad he had come to live with us. As time went on I noticed that Lenny didn’t seem to be getting much bigger, if at all. Though he was so cute, I couldn’t help but think he should be getting taller at least. So I took him into the vet for a check up just to see how he was doing in general. Come to find out, Lenny had a very rare blood disease that the vet explained was hard to treat successfully. He gave us some pills that were very important to stay regular with and told us we’d just have to see if Lenny responds. During the next month, however, he began getting tired and sleeping a lot more than normal. Soon after that he started to get weak and began walking really slowly and not ever running around like our old Lenny used to do. The vet saw him again and said this was the only treatment for this type of leukemia and that it simply isn’t working out very well. He then decided to tell us “I hate to say this, but you’ll probably lose him at some point in the next month or so. I wish we had other options here, but this is a very serious threat and there’s been a lot of research on it.” “Is he in much pain?” I asked. “Unfortunately, yes it’s very painful for him right now,” he said with genuine sadness. And so our little Lenny kept sleeping more and getting weaker over the next several days back at home. He was even having a lot of trouble walking, period, before long. One evening he stumbled three times trying to get to his food bowl just a few feet away, and I realized this was too much for all of us to bear! I announced that we need to take him and have him put to sleep now. My girlfriend couldn’t bear the idea and cried and fought me on it, until I reassured her there was no good reason to put him or us through this any longer and that we were just putting off the inevitable. It’s heartbreaking and sad and everything else, I told her, but I’m calling the vet. Of course we were both in tears when I dialed the phone. He said he would meet us at the clinic in an hour. He also asked if I could help out some since he would be alone this time of night. I agreed and we drove off with my girlfriend holding him as he slept in the little blanket we wrapped him in. I held Lenny in my arms so the doctor could administer the shot. Right at the moment he was going to take care of it Lenny snapped awake out of his stupor and looked directly and deeply into my eyes. It went right through me; there was a powerful love there, a soul-to-soul communication. I felt him thanking me for rescuing him from the kennel, for the new life we gave him, and for ending his misery now. All of that came from him in that one extended moment. It gave me chills as my love for him also poured out one last time. Then it was over. My girlfriend sobbed as we left with the same little blanket that we came with and Lenny in it. I thanked the doctor and he assured me we did the right thing. We took Lenny home and I dug a grave for him out in the yard where we placed him in his blanket and covered him. I remember looking up at the stars and being so grateful he had come into our lives even if only for a short time. I wrote the song Gone a few days later.

I had the HO-HUM thought when I first read this story, that I had heard rumored way back when I first heard Jim’s song back in the early 1990’s but it’s funny how it takes on new meanings, even after all of these years later when you lose a cat you love, too.

We got Billy and Phylly just short of a couple of years ago. (Named after my mom and dad).

We nicknamed him BBB or BIG BAD BILLY because he was a wild man but he wildly loved, too.  He often wore himself around the back of your neck like a stole and would fall asleep up on your shoulders as you would walk around.  He would go for everyone’s shoulders to say, “LOVE ME” but to show, “I LOVE YOU!”  He was the neighborhood cat and he would visit everyone on our street and gave them Peace and Joy when he’d make them pause to pet him and talk to him.  When he was out doing that a last Saturday he apparently was being kind to a dog who didn’t return the kindness and suffered lots of injuries that two surgeries and Kitty ICU couldn’t aid in his recovery.  So with Erin and I by his side and talking to him, loving on him and letting him know how much he made us happy, we gave him the gift of Peace but absolutely havent’ let him go.         .         .
I WAS HIS HUMAN!  He chose me.  He followed me everywhere like a faithful dog; PEACE for both of us was when, after a busy day of being BBB, he’d park himself up on my lap purring himself to sleep and bringing down my blood pressue faster than any pill or interventions.

He literally would bring paws to pause
Wrapped himself around my ankles
as I hurriedly try to put on my socks
Or lay on each step as I tried to make my way downstairs to get dressed.
To say stop, pause.        .        . don’t be in a hurry, not so much that I would pay attention to him so much I would just slow down; by paying him his attention he paid more than money could purchase.          .          .I’m so glad I never passed up the chance to give and get that love.
He would bring calm to my worry
He would bring rest to my disturbed
He would bring love to my most unlovable parts
Not so much about giving him treats so much as I would give him the opportunity to treat me.              .              .
And he never failed
Yes, there is a special spot in heaven for him
Just like our dogs, Bourbon and Molly and other cats, Mabel, Baby Barbara Speese, The Orange Girl, Nippy-One and Nippy-Two, and Bradley before him
That special spot is called:
M     I     N     E

I believe one day if I have moments to fully reflect as my life is completing, it will be make leaving Here and getting THERE a little bit more gentle and less fearful and like those loved ones who have gone before me, they too, will be there unconditionally waiting to greet me as if I was coming home like so many times before when they couldn’t wait to welcome me.          .          .It makes the hurt of all that I feel with GONE not gone at all

Until that THEN, rest easy my BBB (BEST BUDDY BILLY) and THANK YOU for choosing me; for loving me without conditions or boundaries.  You made me Better!
I love you, Pal
Yep.     .    .I’ll read it even again and be grateful; always grateful for the opportunity to LOVE.      .      .GRIEVE.     .      .LOVE AGAIN.        .          .

SONGS FROM SILENCE

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FULL DISCLOSURE
I’m not really in love with the Music
B               U               T
I love the Message.          .          .

Sometimes I think if we say things over and over and over again, if we repeat the refrain often enough, we will understand it or we’ll get it.  I’m not so sure that’s true anymore;  so even though I don’t particularly like the video but I love the
message.   .    .
BECAUSE we are not only THAT MESSAGE but as Caring Catalysts, we can be a better MESSAGE within the MESSAGE with minimal words and well intentioned ACTIONS.      .      .

AND YOU JUST MIGHT BE SURPRISED
for not only who needs THAT MESSAGE
but who it gets delivered to
even if you’re not noticing
that you are providing the very
M          E          S          S          A          G          E
(with or without music or vocal background)

JUST CALL ME, IRV

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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

JUST A MOMENT: STUMPED

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It’s what we do the most, isn’t it:
JUST TO TAKE THINGS FOR FACE VALUE
without taking the time to
TAKE A LOOK.          .          .
Let’s face it, there’s so much more below our surface, under our skin than folks or even ourselves ever can see let alone look at.         .        BUT:
JUST A MOMENT: the next time you feel cut off at the knees or when you literally feel chopped up what’s left behind is so much NOT what REMAINS
Be a help-self Caring Catalyst enough to
dig a little deeper; not far below the surface at the root of things there’s still much that’s alive, that’s taking in nourishment and may not sprout in the ways that it once did (which may be the good news) but now ready to continue to grow that the surface won’t reveal but the at the root of it,
STILL VERY MUCH IS ALIVE

The next time you feel
S          T          U          M          P          E          D
you’re far from it
D          I           G
just a little deeper
a little longer
a little more lovingly
YOU ARE MORE
(so very much more)

 

MAPPING OUT A LIFE IN WORDS

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READING A MAP
Maybe it’s a long forgotten art now that we have GPS systems and WAZE and GOOGLE MAPS but at times we don’t know our up from a down or a left from a right because.      .      .we’ve lost our direction.          .             .
WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN
.         .        .this sense of DIRECTLESSNESS
so when I recently read a post from Neale Donald Walsch, his words rang my chimes in a way that I needed  D I R E C T E D

“you cannot help another who will not

help him- or herself.

In the end, all souls must walk their path — and the

reason they are walking a particular path may not be

clear to us…or even to them at the level of ordinary

human consciousness.

Do what you can to help others, of course. Show

love and caring whenever and wherever you can.

But do not get caught up in someone else’s “story”

to the point where you start writing it. 

Know what I mean?”
and as usual
Master RUMI
doesn’t disappoint:

PRAYER FOR CHANGE
I prayed for change, 
so I changed my mind.

I prayed for guidance
and learned to trust myself.

I prayed for happiness
and realized I am not my ego.

I prayed for peace
and learned to accept others unconditionally.

I prayed for abundance
and realized my doubt kept it out.

I prayed for wealth
and realized it is my health.

I prayed for a miracle
and realized I am the miracle.

I prayed for a soul mate
and realized I am the One.

I prayed for love
and realized it is always knocking,
but I have to allow it in.

~ Rumi♡
Psssssssssssssssssssssssst:
The Pen in your hand
is for writing your story
and not Another’s
but at best
there’s a glorious collaboration 
that forever sees our stories 
telling each other’s
We travel on
in each other’s words
as they tell the stories
we are ever writing.    .    .

JUST A MOMENT: I F (I maginary F riends)

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We took our seven-year-old granddaughter, Evey to see the movie that John Krasinski and Ryan Reynolds were in called IF (Imaginary Friends)

A great movie that just doesn’t  pull back the curtain on what I don’t want you to see,  it rips it from their rod so that I could really see, feel, experience what I’ve never really lost or even forgotten so much as embarrassingly remember, and now kind of horrifyingly admit: I’VE GOT THEM; Yes.    .    . I’ve got THEM; not so much imaginary friends, IF’S, but things that bring me exceedingly comfort, peace, happiness, contentment and unconditional love

Oh, that’s right and the real fun began afterwards when we went back to their house and grandma helped plant flowers while Evey assisted and every time she took up a worm or yes, even a grub, she talk to it, named them, treated it is if they were her new best friends.  Before playing in a bucket of mud (of which I don’t think her mom especially liked)
reveling in joy and hopefully never forgetting what I have most often:
YOU ARE ALWAYS A KID!
E N J O Y
HAVE FUN
DON’T EVER STOP
Now.          .         .about that Emotional Support Pile of Books.        .        .

FIDDLE FARTING AROUND

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I know, I know,  it almost sounds like Charlie Brown’s teacher, here, blah blah, blah blah blah, and I really do wish it was more of Kurt and less of the commentator. However, the quotes are real. The lessons are true, especially since they are so very, very simple, and I also include my own poem, which was somewhat inspired by Kurt a long time ago when I was so fortunate and grateful enough by taking a cold wintry afternoon off in January fiddle farting around to go see him down at Severance Hall.  Case Western Reserve University put on a symposium that featured Mr. Vonnegut giving a lecture.   They put me down in the second row so when they filmed it, it looked like it was a full audience. CLASSIC STUFFS that I’ll forever cherish, even all the way back then as I scribbled down these lines on an old left over orchestra program.


FIDDLE FARTING

Don’t fiddle fart around
they all said
grandparents, parents, teachers, friends
because it’ll all lead to NOTHING
they all said
Now your words won’t come out
and your thoughts won’t go away
as you lay in a hospice bed
where other Fiddle Farters have died
Your memories rattle much louder
than your wheezing-can’t-take-in-any-more-air-lungs
knowing that fiddle farting around
was much more than a NOTHING
and a flavorable dash more of SOMETHING
that’ll have you dying wishing
for a lot more of EVERYTHING
Thanks again, Kurt for an awesome fiddle farting afternoon and now, a lifetime of ongoing lessons, especially seeing the miraculous in the mundane.          .          .

Professional Speaker, Author, Assurance Man