Be My Guest

We spend a lot of time taking care of our home this time of year. Who doesn't love the lights hanging from the Christmas tree, the fireplace covered in pine branches and tinsel, various knickknacks sitting about creating miniature winter wonderlands? There's simply nothing I like more then turning all the trees on in the house and listening to music softly playing in the background as I relax with a cup of coffee and my best girl. We all take pride in our homes, but never more than this time of year. After all, part of the fun of decorating is inviting your friends and family over to see how amazing everything looks. The added attention does have it's downside though (at least from a husbands perspective) because it also means that for every invitation to guests to come see your beautiful home, comes hours upon hours of time spent making sure everything is perfect for their arrival.

 

Unfortunately inviting people over and forcing them to adorn horse blinders the moment they walk in the door is not good etiquette and neither is asking them to sign a contract stating they will only look at your decorations and nothing else. The only option is a mass cleaning. Sweep the ceilings for any cobwebs, give the floors a good moping, wipe down every surface. The last thing you want is to make a bad impression or for your guests to find someone's secret pizza slice hiding under the couch pillow (I have two boys. Everyday is an adventure). When that knock on the door signaling your friends have arrived, you want to present your home in all it's glory; clean and smelling of flowers.

 

This time of the year natural brings to mind thoughts revolving around the need to do some spiritual cleaning as well. I can't help but ask myself questions such as:

 

"Do I carry by Bible around for show or do I use it for what it was intended for?"
"Am I living my beliefs or are they merely words?"
"If Jesus were to suddenly pop in for a visit, would I immediately let him in or would I run through the house trying to close the doors to all the rooms I don't want him to peek into?"
"Is my soul clean or are there sins I've ignored and need to repent for?"

 

The truth is that like a home being shared with those we hold dearly, our spiritual lives could stand to use a good deep cleaning as well. We need to always be prepared to answer God's call and be ready to present ourselves to him looking our best. You never know...that next knock on the door may just be somebody very important.

Bill iii

Fro-No!!!!

I'm a huge fan of disaster movies. Give me a civilization ending ice storm, a tidal wave of mass proportions capable of destroying entire cities, or an earthquake strong enough to reshape continents and I'm all yours for two hours. Of course I'm speaking purely in a theatrical sense and would never wish those things would actually happen...not to say that in a much smaller scale they don't occur all the time.

Take this past week for example; it started late Saturday with Alex bolting up from his peaceful sleep on the couch and stating (not crying) "Momma, I'm gonna fro up" followed by an attempt at ruining my favorite blanket. What occurred next is sort of a blur, but basically he repeated this same nightmare scenario over two dozen times between the hours of 11 pm and 8 am. Then just as quickly as it began, the "fro-ing up" stopped. There was a touch of a fever for a day or so after and a bit of a cough has stuck around, but for the most part Mandy and I came to the conclusion that what we went through was food poisoning. The doctor seemed to think it was fever virus, but either way we all agreed that after a few days of being at home Lex would be back to his normal self in no time. Christmas was saved!! Like every great disaster movie everyone returned to normal.

The next wave hit late Friday. Almost a full week after our bout with Alex, we'd all but forgotten the previous weekend. Christmas was awesome, everyone had an amazing time, and we were all about to snuggle in our respective spots after a great visit from Uncle Brock...when suddenly....my stomach started to ache. Now I'm sort of a legend in my own mind when it comes to not vomiting. In fact I claim that I once went a full seven years without up chucking. The end of my reign came just after Adam was born when Mandy and I both caught the stomach bug at the same time. Anyways I can hold my own with the best of the non-vomiters and after my stomach doing flips all night and most of the next morning, I was suddenly better! In fact I was ready to get out of the house for the first time in five days. Like the naive scientist that ignore all the warning signs moments before the planet is wiped out by giant man eating rabbits, I simply scratched the entire thing off to eating too much bacon, turkey, sausage, and ham within a four hour stretch (hey it's the holidays give me a break!).

Like Amish teens allowed to roam the world freely for the first time, we ran from the house as quickly as possible, taking everything around us in as if it were never before seen! We were in full blown Target DT's and needed the sweet sweet fix of discounted clothes and electronics (I got a new Capt. America t-shirt and a wireless keyboard for my tablet. Yea me!!!!). Little did we know the rumbles of thunder were already being heard in the distance and by distance I mean Mandy's tummy. After only two hours it was clear we had clearly misread the signs and what we had previously been witness too were only tremors compared to what was now upon us....

I will save you the fine details and only say that by the time the sun rose on this very day entire rooms of the house had been destroyed. Walls crumbled, beds should have been burned, the very foundation of our home shook as people everywhere ran for relief. In the end sadly there were no survivors...wink wink.

Bill iii

It's A Tree-mendous Holiday

We have finally gotten all the trees up in the house. Mandy and I had our first date during the week of Christmas 1997 and were later married in December of 2001, so the holidays have always held a special place in our hearts. In total we have about five trees we decorate each year; three full size and two smaller trees in each of the boy's rooms. Each tree has its own personality. There's the pre-lit tree that illuminates an entire city block and shines like a lighthouse beaconing lost sailors back home. We have an all silver tree with colored lights and various red balls hanging about. This year we added a top hat which seems to have been the perfect touch. Then last but certainly not least the traditional green Christmas tree. This one is always the last to go up.

What makes the green tree so special are the ornaments you find on it. We collect ornaments like some people collect old Coke signs or rare novels. There are ornaments representing new babies, first holidays; reindeer made of handprints and globes filled with pictures of the children. This tree while special in so many ways is also a source of tremendous angst. Aside from the constant fear that the cats will see it as a giant play thing constructed purely for their amusement, the thought of two clumsy careless curious boys grabbing, pulling, and manhandling our precious keepsakes is enough to send even the most serene of individuals running for the medicine cabinet in search of anything to assist in the calming of nerves.

When it comes to decorating a Christmas tree life does not imitate art. Forget all about Mommy, Daddy, little Susie, and Timmy laughing and singing carols around the tree. Decorating with two little boys in a house with a couple of playful cats is more akin to being a museum security guard in charge of a one of a kind work of art. Only the most gentle of touch can handle the object and placement is everything. The higher you move up the tree the more precious the ornament. Give the cats a little something less valuable to occupy their time on the bottom branches, make sure everything is practically bolted into the tree to protect against the occasional bump, and maybe just maybe the treasures will last another year with the help of some super glue and prayer. 

Growing up we had real live trees. I say real live trees because there is a clear distinction between the live trees typical families purchase from Lowes or some random parking lot and the real live trees we had growing up with The Angry Man. The trees you normally find at a retail store were more than likely planted neatly in a row with several of their Christmas tree brethren on a tree farm where they were cared for, groomed, and harvested by a tree farmer trying to earn a buck for his family. Our real live trees were stolen from some random field in the backwoods of Lauderdale County, Alabama. 

I remember it like it was yesterday, The Angry Man deciding the weather was perfect for our holiday felony. Too nice a day and Farmer Brown would be on the watch. Too poor a day and you risk catching pneumonia. In hindsight I suppose it makes since, after all the last thing you expect to see in a snow storm is someone cutting down a pine tree in your background. We would all load up in the cab of that old red pickup truck, Cousin Ralph, The Angry Man, my brother Brock, and myself. Brock only about six and myself a very young twelve, crammed between these two fully grown men. One of us straddling the gear shift lever praying there wouldn't be a need to suddenly shift into four wheel drive.

I don't know how long we drove other than it felt like hours. Like a kidnapping victim blindfolded and quizzed later about how they ended up miles outside of town standing next to a field of pine trees, all I could tell you was it was cold and desolate.  Now like any good thief will tell you, the key to any crime is patience and so after being in that truck together for goodness knows how long the last thing we were gonna do us just jump out and start hacking away at the first tree we came too. No the first step to a good Christmas tree robbery is to sit and observe. Watch to see how busy the road your on is. Count the number of cars coming by and listen for any signs of life. People take trespassing pretty serious and behind every sign warning you to stay away is a twelve gauge shotgun itching to be put to good use. So the four of us would sit....

After a good twenty or thirty minutes of scoping out the scene we would start out on our journey to the middle of the wooded area. That's where the good trees were; in the middle where the snow was deep and the view of the road was nonexistent. My absolute favorite memory of our adventures in Christmas tree thievery came one year after several minutes of tromping through the knee deep snow and finally finding the perfect tree for our living-room. Let the chopping of the tree begin! Not too loud to draw attention of Farmer Brown who you just knew was lurking out there in the distance with his ear to the ground. 

As any experienced logger will tell ya, predicting where a chopped tree will fall is not an exact science. Just when you think they will fall left, they'll go right; which is exactly what six yr old Brock found out that winter. Arms stretched out as if he was about to give a close relative a giant bear hug. Dressed in his warmest blue puffy coat with black trim like the Alaskans wear in the dead of winter; navy blue taboggan pulled tight over his ears, my little brother disappeared behind an avalanche of green branches. Luckily for him the three feet of snow took the brunt of the force of the tree, but still not many people can say they were once buried alive by an illegally obtained Christmas tree in the backwoods of Alabama. 

Boy I sure love Christmas!!!

Promises Promises

Promises. We make them every day. Some we make lightheartedly, "I promise you if you don't march back there right this minute and clean your bedroom I am going to ground you for life." Some promises we strive to never break, "I promise to honor, love, and cherish you as long as we both shall live. Till death do us part." They are large part of our lives, these promises; these contracts we make among ourselves. In many ways they are what tie us together. They bond us tight and keep us from ever going astray. "I'll love you forever. I'll like you always. As long as I'm living my baby boy you shall always be." (Love you forever by Robert Munch).

When life suddenly turns against us, we each make the same silent promises to the Heavens above "Dear God if you will just look down on me and help me through this mess, I promise I'll live the life I know I should." It doesn't take too long to understand our promises carry weight. Though intangible, the task of carrying them around can be exhausting at times. They can wear us down...bring us to our knees. Ask a little boy or girl if anyone has ever broken a promise to them and watch the emotions fill their face as they relate their experience with broken trust.

It's Christmas time. A moment to celebrate love. A time to show God how thankful we are he kept his promise to Mary and Joseph. His promise to bring the world the King of all kings, a Savior born in a manger. In Acts 1:10-11 we are made another promise, "They were looking intently up in to the skys as he was going, when suddenly two men dressed in white stood beside them. "Men of Galilee why do you stand here looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who as been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven."

If you haven't promised your life to God, what are you waiting for? This Christmas in between all the gifts, decorations, and parties, take a moment to show those you care most about how much your faith means to you. Commit yourself to Christ, to spreading his word, sharing his love, and embracing all that comes with being called a Christian. I promise you will never regret a life lived in the name of Jesus.

Bill iii

The Other Bill VS The Other Blog

I started a new blog in case you haven't noticed. I used to be Charlie Blockhead ( www.charlieblockhead.blogspot.com) and then as the years went by, I wasn't. Not that there's anything wrong with Charlie or what he represented. He was a huge part of my life and he took me down an amazing path. In a lot of ways I can be The Other Bill because of all that I learned when I was Charlie. 

The Adventures of Charlie Blockhead was created by a former version of who I am today. He was weeks away from becoming a new dad, he was scared to death, and he was grappling for any advice he could get his hands on. There were so many emotions running through his head; questions like "Am I good enough to be a dad?" "What if I drop the baby?" "What if we can't afford the baby?" "What if I'm too much like The Angry Man (stepfather)?" "What if my marriage suffers?" "I've never changed a diaper, what do I do if I'm alone with it?" "What if I do if" was followed by a thousand different scenarios each more frightening at the time.

Charlie was always there for me when I couldn't get something figured out. He served as a frozen moment in time where my favorite stories were just waiting to be thawed out and lived again. The very creation of the Charlie alias allowed me a freedom to speak my mind without reprimand from those I might unintentionally offend. As the blog grew though so did my desire to share it and as a consequence the idea of an alias became meaningless. The disguise became see through. 

Charlie taught me how to be a better writer. For awhile he even helped me become a freelance blogger and earn a pretty good side income. Charlie, like his predecessor The Other Bill, quickly became a control valve giving me a place to release my frustrations in a creative way. Like an imaginary friend, he became somebody I could turn to when the world was on my back or the voices in my head demanded to be heard. Charlie was a trusted confidant who I eventually grew away from but will always cherish. Someday soon I plan to introduce him to my two boys.

The question now on the table is, why after two years of not blogging am I back? While I'm sure some of the answers behind that question lie buried deep in my subconscious, one thing is certain and that's the fact that the creative urge is still alive within me. It's hard to explain without sounding completely insane, but my brain is constantly bouncing around phrases. At any given minute stories are being pieced together, phrases are being worked out, feelings are debated. They can only stay in there for so long before they get restless and demand to be heard. Since I left Charlie I've been writing for my church bulletin and for the most part it helped relieve those creative energies, but it soon became extremely restrictive in terms of what I could cover both in subject and detail. So here I am again back to my roots as a blogger. 

Things are different this time around though. I'm no longer a scared soon to be first time father crying for help. This version of me is turning 40, he's the father of two boys that simultaneously scare him to death and brighten his every moment. This me is still deeply in love with his wife Mandy, but as I've changed so has she. I realize now that on December 27, 1997 God had a plan in place for my life and it all started with Mandy Moultrie Beck. It's not too far fetched to think that Charlie saw her as his and his alone. Sure he shared her with the kids, but she was still his. The Other Bill is in awe of this girl he married 13 yrs ago. I look at her and everything she takes on .... how much she's given me...everything she is to everyone I know and I am stunned by how amazing she is. I just don't have the words.

This me has a core of peace. Not to say I don't still have dark days when it's hard to see the positive side of life, but those days are few and far between. Admittedly some of it's because I take better care of myself, there's more to it than that though. My faith in God has provided me with an inner strength and along with that a calming of my spirit. Things are going to be okay. Life's problems will not last forever. I'm continuously inspired by the words of Isaiah 40:29 "He gives power to the weak, and to those that have no might He increases strength." I smile more, worry less, and spend as much time as I can doing what makes me happy. 

While I definitely see myself as a work in progress, I'm more complete in more ways than Charlie ever was. And even though the title for this blog is a take on sharing the same name as my father and his father, The Other Bill also represents who I am now in life. I'm far from average. I'm a father, a husband, a friend, a son, a deacon, a devoted servant of the Lord...but most importantly at this point in my life I'm so very comfortable just being me. 

Cliff Notes

I grew up in a time without internet access. There's wasn't a handheld computer inches away from my person at all hours of the day. When we were privileged enough to touch a computer it was at school during library time. We had black screens with green letters and everyone played the same thing; Oregon Trail. We had our own versions of Miley Cyrus, Pharell, and Taylor Swift. Those were the days before Ipads, laptops, and the Xbox. In fact if you had told the teenage me that one day I would be writing a 400 word essay with my phone, I'd have looked at you like you were nuts for a variety of reasons.

I'm not ancient mind you. We had remote control TVs, VCRs, and Nintendos. We had our share of idols; people we looked up to. Those that helped shape us into who we would one day become. Mr. Rogers taught us we were all neighbors and should treat one another as such. Michael J. Fox took us all Back to the Future and inspired us to be scientists.  Of course there was the curious case of Dr Heathcliff Huxtable. I use the word curious because he was something I had never seen much of before....a dad that loved and cherished his family. 

Heathcliff didn't sit around all day screaming obscenities or making threats. He didn't show up just on weekends, promising to be back soon. Dr Huxtable loved his family and more importantly he loved being around them. When Sandra dropped out of Princeton to open a camping store, when Theo came home with an earring, when Rudy's elderly friend down the street stopped taking her medicine...they could always depend on dad to be there. Heathcliff was the dad we all wanted to have and one day wanted to be.

Sadly The Huxtables are fictional. A creation of an imaginative human being; Bill Cosby. And while I won't dare attempt to approach the allegations recently made against him whether they be true or false, to quote comedian Michael Che " The only thing Heathcliff Huxtible was ever quilty of is sneaking a giant hoagie in the middle of the night". Which in my eyes makes it even that more difficult to digest what is currently being said about the man behind the mask. 

Regardless of what you think of Mr. Cosby, we should all agree on one thing....he's just a man. A person like the rest of us and with that understanding comes the lesson that like the rest of us, he's a sinner; he makes mistakes. Yes we want to put Bill Cosby on a pedestal; to lift him up on high and think he can do no wrong. The truth is that there was only ever one perfect person and he sacrificed himself on a cross so that we may live. Jesus died for us and we can never lose focus of that.

We need examples of how to live better lives. We need people we can look up to and be inspired by.  Yet we should never forget that man is flawed. From the very beginning of time we've been getting things wrong and only through the love of our ever so gracious God will we ever manage to see each other again in Heaven someday. It's okay to admire man and their fictional creations....to look at Heathcliff Huxtable as an example of how a father should act, but let us never make the mistake of substituting a father figure for The Father figure.

Bill iii

I Saw You

I saw you yesterday. At first I almost missed you. I almost walked completely past you. Somewhere in those milliseconds between footsteps sparks went flying through my brain and I caught you out of the corner of my eye. It felt like a punch to the gut. The ache going up my spine. 

Stunned, I just stood there motionless as if I'd just tripped across a baby deer in the middle of the quiet woods; afraid I might scare you off if I moved too quick. It had been so long since we had last come face to face. The speed of time has a way of distracting us from what's most important.

It was the oddest sensation seeing you there out of the blue. Of course it was your uniform that revealed your presence. White undershirt (stained of course). Faded khakis that had long ago lost any shape or form. You had gained a little weight and your hair was shorter, but a Dad isn't built to look like a supermodel. Dads are made to carry worlds on their shoulders and as a consequence their hair turns grey...the bags under their eyes begin to collect. 

You were smiling. On anyone else this wouldn't seem out of place, but let's be honest...you don't smile very often. I could tell that you were finally making your piece with the world. Something recently must have clicked and given you a new perspective. I pray some of the ghosts that have haunted your days have finally been laid to rest.  I pray you know how proud of you I am.

I wish there was more time...I wish I had the words to let you know I saw you. I doubt I could even make you understand.  The kids were shouting, dinner was cooking, life only allowed me a moment to stare...to take it all in. So I let you pass by without a word. I just tucked my head and kept going all the while promising to remember my father's reflection in my dresser mirror.