I may need camp counseling

Adam is going to camp in less then two weeks from now. When we first signed him up a few months back it didn't seem as large and impending as it does now. Kind of like a mountain from a distance that can be seen through your thumb and forefinger. Now that the time has come, from my point of view at the base of this mountain it looks like a terrifying climb.

I guess every parent wishes they could freeze time. We wish we could keep our children deep inside the cocoon we've made of our homes and never let them out, less the worst should happen. I guess if I had to think of all my flaws I'd list keeping up with current events as up near the top. Knowing what's taking place in the world around you is important, but it's also very scary. As the days pass to their inevitable conclusion (the car ride to camp), its my job to constantly remind him how strong he is, to reassure him that he will make new friends and memories that will last a lifetime. He needs to know there's nothing to worry about and nothing he can't handle while away...no matter how much my inner fears struggle to find a voice. Camp is going to be tough on all of us. 

I have something to say

I'm not entirely sure what I want to rant about today, but there is this overwhelming urge to get something off my chest whatever it may be. I think I'll land on Mandy's almost cave woman idea that the man should provide the food. I know she fully believes this because she expresses it to me (I'm walking a marital tight rope here) whenever the subject of who is going to go get fast food comes up, which is about 2-3 times a week. I completely understand this belief and today I'm thinking I've unfairly given her a hard time about it. Call it laziness, call it stubbornness, maybe I'm being cheap, but I think it's most likely related to my need to get from point A to point B in every situation as quickly as possible. For example recently I've discovered pre-cooked bacon. Not that fake turkey cardboard mess that claims to be bacon, but specifically Hormel pre-cooked bacon. In literally 45 seconds I've learned I can have pretty good tasting bacon. Sometimes I don't even warm it up. After all it's pre-cooked! All the work has been done for you!!! Yes it's not 100% the same as regular bacon, but it does eliminate 99% of the clean up so I've gone from point A "I need to eat bacon" to point B "I've got bacon" in 45 seconds and only messed up one plate. That's awesome! Now apply this character trait to fast food and here's what causes conflict; instead of driving all over town, trying to remember elaborate menu combinations (no ketchup, cheese only, no lettuce) for every member of the house, I'm more inclined to jump straight to point B "tonight we are eating chip crumbs and lunch meat (just meat we are out of bread)". Obviously this goes completely against Mandy's belief that man is the hunter and gatherer....and up until today I've given her grief about this. But today is a new day! And with this new day come change! Starting today I will always go get fast food whenever my wife asks me to and I'll do it with a smile! Why? Because I love her and I respect her and she's quit washing my undershirts and I can't have Spider-Man peeking out the collar of my pollo shirt during a meeting with my CFO! 

39 And Counting

Whenever I'm away from my blog for a bit I always feel the need to do a recap. As if I need to explain to my blog why I've ignored it for so long. It's kinda like going a couple weeks without talking to your mother, in that almost the exact same phrases are said "I know I should have called. I miss you too. I've just been busy. Yes I'm wearing clean underwear". The conversation is then followed by a Cliff Notes version of what's been happening. With that in mind here's the quick recap of April and May....

Baseball started, baseball ended, Baron came, Baron left, Adam passed the 3rd grade, Alex graduated preschool, for the 1st time in 10 years we are not paying daycare costs, we hired an awesome teenager to watch the kids during the summer, and I'm obsessed with trucks and grills. Maybe I'll go into more detail later on, then again maybe not (I've fallen in love with Netflix and she's taking some of my time).

I'm turning 40 this year which is depressing enough on its own, but once you also add in the fact that I've got two very energetic boys (9 and 5) it's understandable why some mornings I wake up more discouraged by this sad fact of life than others. Kids will keep you feeling young, but they can also remind you that you are no longer the spring chicken you used to be. Take this past weekend for example...

Things kicked off Friday night with a lap around downtown Florence's First Fridays craft fair. Alex insisted on practically running the 8 blocks. Turns out he remembered there was a guy that gave out free children's books somewhere along the route. Of course it was the last booth along the route (next month we will start there first). This was followed by a trip to Lowes for two laps around the store looking for air filters. 

The older I get the more I love Cypress creek. It's perfect for swimming, fishing, canoeing....the more I'm around it the more I wish I'd discovered it when I was in my teen years. That's one mistake I'm trying not to pass on to my kids so every chance I get I try to take them. That's where we ended up Saturday, fishing the creek from 1:30 to 4:00 (after another lap around Lowes looking for a mailbox). Lex got bored so I dropped him off at Gigi's and then headed to the river for more fishing. This was followed two hours later by the only meal of the day (a mushroom and swiss burger from McD's). Now at this point you'd think I'd have had my fill of activity, but when you are trying to keep up with a 9 yr old boy of course tennis is the next logical thing to do. I mean who wants to sit around watching movies and eating popcorn all night (Me!! I want to do that!!!). 

The thing about tennis with a kid that's only had one lesson is that it's more chasing the ball and not so much hitting it back n' forth. In fact it's more related to sit-ups then any sort of sport (or more like playing fetch with an old basset hound now that I really think about it). Imagine an overweight 39 year old body doing sit-ups for the first time in years and then throw the knowledge that he'd just consumed a Sun-Drop, two orange sodas, two Gatorades, a large fry, and a greasy onion covered steak sauce soaked mushroom swiss burger. As my face began to turn green, Adam actually looked up and asked "Do you not like exercise Daddy?" to which I was barely able to respond "I like it...*burp*..*pant*..*fight off nausea*...I just don't think it likes me!"  Which leads to the end of tonight's train of thought, where I can't help but wonder if these kids will remember days like this past Saturday and will complain a little less as they wheel my 80 yr old carcass down the nursing home hall. 

Mistakes Along The Way

March is traditionally a busy month for my family what with basketball ending, baseball starting, and both boys having a birthday. From my conversations with many around me, it seems that everyone is running full speed as fast as they can. As if we weren't stretched thin enough, this year marks a new level of activity as Alex takes his first steps onto the baseball diamond. With two boys playing ball at the same time already I can tell I'm going to have several hours each week where I do nothing more than sit in my bleacher seat and shout out words of encouragement.

From a father's perspective, I'll at admit to a rather large sense of anxiety as my children venture into the world of sports. As I mentioned Alex is just starting and already I can't help but feel a strong desire to be next to him every step of the way. As we began walking towards the field for his first practice my baby who had only turned 5 days before looked up at me and said "Daddy...could you carry me out there?". Now I wouldn't normally turn down such a request, but I felt this was something he needed to do on his own. I didn't stray too far though and ended up volunteering to help coach so I could be there when he needed me to help guide him through the paces of what was about to come. I guess if I thought he would let me, I'd be out there standing right next to Adam too.

From the sidelines I look at my boys and in their faces I see so many things. I see hope of making that next play, worry of not having the same talent level as the other kids, and I see myself standing out there feeling those same emotions. My conscience leads me down the trail of worry and before I know it I'm wishing I'd found more time to work on hitting, or throwing. I wonder what I could have done differently to help erase the doubts from their minds that they may never be up to the same standards as others. I guess that's one reason why after a particularly trying afternoon spent fussing with Adam, I made sure he understood that no matter what he does in life....no matter how bad things seem to get or how dark they may appear...his mother and I will always give him another chance to make things right. There's no such thing as striking out when it comes to loving our children.

God loves us that much. Now I'm not going to presume he sits around and worries about us all day or wishes he could do shield us from the difficult things in life, yet he is a God of second chances. I dare say there is not a thing we could ever do that would separate us from that love and the love of Jesus Christ. He could of simply erased Adam and Eve from existence, He could have left the Israelites in Egypt, and like the song goes He could have sent down 10,000 angels to punish those that sacrificed His Son on the cross. None of that happened though and that's where I want to leave you....are you giving those around you second chances? Are you forgiving those that have caused you pain? Are you setting aside differences? If not then you've missed something along the way. God is love and there's no better way to show that love than by looking past someone's missteps and bringing them closer rather than pushing them farther away.

Obituary

In the beginning there really wasn't anything special about the location. Like so many of the pieces of land in the area, it was just another pile of dirt and grass on the edge of what was barely considered a town. All these year's later Linden is far from a metropolis; more like a village. A couple of gas stations on both ends of town give a glimpse of its history more than any landmark or history book could ever tell. Now I don't know how it happened, but I assume the story of the Linden Church of Christ is no different than that of many others across this nation. At some point as the factories came closer and the town began to swell, there arose a group of Christians that decided it was time to stop driving an hour away to attend services; it was time to build a meeting place of their own. The permits were all signed, the bank loans approved, and that little patch of nondescript grass was transformed into a modest country church. The Church of Christ had come to Linden, Alabama.

As the decades went by, that little country church stood proud. To this day you will find a good sized office made for a preacher with a vast library to draw wisdom from, a one room classroom with supplies to cover any age group that may enter its doors, and a fellowship hall where even now the echoes of yesterday's laughter can still can be heard. Two rows of pews about 15 deep were put in place, the podium set in its rightful spot, and in front of it all just above the baptismal pool a mural of a country stream making its way through fields of green was painted. Hope....that's what that little church gave its members. Hope of a better tomorrow. Hope that in just a short time all their sorrows would be forgotten.  Life was never meant to be easy and no more is that true than when you spend it struggling to survive in the backwoods of Alabama. I was nothing more than an occasional visitor to that church of 15 or so believers in Christ, yet in spite of the hardships practically etched in the faces of those in attendance I was never greeted with anything less than a smile and a hug. Not because I was the preachers grandson, but because I came to join in the worship of Christ. The Son of God that sacrificed his life so that we may live ours. The One who spoke the words "Forgive them Father for they know not what they do."

This past week the little Church of Linden that was built with so much love and promise suffered a great loss. Over the years as the jobs left and took the people with them, the membership steadily declined. Now comes word that one of it's valued elders went on in to Heaven. Small country churches can only take so many hits to their congregation and this latest one combined with the reluctant retirement of their preacher (my grandfather), seems to be more than this one can stand. Change has come to Linden, Alabama and with it the lesson that The Church is more than mortar and brick; drywall and paint. Long after the pews have been put in storage and the mural of that country stream fades away, the Church will stand tall in the hearts of those that have faith in Jesus Christ. The Linden Church of Christ is learning what we must all come to understand and that's the fact that a building is just a building and the love of God will stand long after we are gone.

There Will Also Be Other Days....

Life is a glorious thing. For just a moment, I ask that you stop and take a breath. Stop and listen to the sound of the world whip around you. Maybe you will hear a mother bird calling out to her mate. Maybe the sounds of leaves blowing in the winter wind. Now lean down and grab a handful of earth. Feel the way the individual grains roll around in your fingers. Marvel at all the tiny components, the million grains of grit that all come together to make what you spend all your life treading over. Close your eyes and smell the scents that swirl around you. Put everything aside and just soak in your surroundings.

If you haven't figured it out by now, this life is a gift. In the span of your years on this planet you will be witness to moments of complete brilliance. Technological advances that only others have dreamed of will become common place and be taken for granted by you one day. Things that in the past would take years to create will be at the touch of a button. There will be times when your heart is so filled with joy and excitement that it's all you can do not to scream from mountain tops. Times when you have to hold yourself back from spreading the good news to passing strangers as they go by on their random way. You will experience moments when the only answer for such good fortune will be God. Weeks will go by when you will live off of love and never want for anything more.

There will also be other days....

Like the underside of a coin, life will not always go your way. You will be tested, you will feel defeated...there will be times when you will cry till the tears no longer pour out and all that will be left of you is a curled up mess. This life will bring you to your knees with the sheer volume of things it will pile on your back. Rainbows disappear, sunny days eventually lead to rain, and for every four leaf clover found is another lost by someone else. It's in these times when we prove who we are. It's in the middle of nightmares when we prove how strong we can be. When your time comes, I hope you remember these words...Believe...Pray...and be Thankful for all things.

Bill iii

Linden Blues

Last night I got a message I'd hoped wouldn't come for a while. Don Lauderdale tragically lost his 8 month battle with cancer. It was through Don and his lovely wife Helen, that my grandparents Bill & Bettye came to call Linden, Al their home. Together the Lauderdale's gave everything they had to that small church of 25 members and I'm sure Don is now reaping his rewards in Heaven. For those struggling with the loss of Don today, the prayers of my family are with you. Change can so often be a violent unforgiving thing and when it comes all we can ever really do is try to find some peace in the knowledge that someday we will all be together once again. I simply can't say how many more times Helen and my family will ever cross paths, but I hope she knows just how much her and Don have meant to the Becks these past few years.

Unfortunately this latest blow to the Linden community also brings with it news that my grandmother is now ready to move away. We have found my grandfather a new nursing home and for the first time since becoming a preacher's wife, Bettye Beck gets to decide where she wants to live. Within a month she will be living in Montgomery, Al and I'm sure not too long after that the Linden Church of Christ will cease to exist. Like Mr. Don and my grandfather who worked tirelessly to keep it going, it appears the time has come to move on. For Don this means Heaven, for my grandfather it means a comfortable nursing home where he can spend his remaining days watching the Braves struggle to make it to the post season, for my grandmother it's a chance to be surrounded by friends she hasn't seen in years...and for the Church of Linden it more than likely means an empty building will stand as a monument to those that gave their lives to Christ. We all know that The Church is not about one person or one building. The Church revolves around the love of Christ and that love can not be contained by walls of sheet rock or brick.

People come and go in our lives, but Christ's love for us is eternal.

Monday On My Mind

I don't really have anything on my mind this week, but it's been a while since I laid down on the psychiatrist's couch so I thought I'd get on here and babble away. Not even sure where to start, but anxiety seems like a good enough place. After a couple years of taking blood pressure, diabetes, and cholesterol meds, I've been given the okay to stop. By watching what I eat and exercise, I've managed to control my various levels without taking a hundred pills a day. Of course what better way to celebrate this major victory then by spraining my right ankle for the second time in 2 years.

The ever revolving circle of sports continues with basketball ending and baseball beginning. Adam's team ended with an amazing 12-0 record which acted like a defibrillator for his confidence. After only winning 1 game in 2 years of baseball and a so/so soccer season, basketball was a blessing. Now Mandy & I prepare to spread ourselves even thinner as we enter our first dual child season. Alex will start T-ball this year along with Adam playing baseball. It's going to be tough on us all, but the benefits of sports are invaluable. The lessons learned about teamwork, about never giving up no matter how down you are, about being the best version of you through practice are all just too important to miss.  That being said, I do admit to a large surge of anxiety whenever I stop to think about Alex getting on the field for the first time. I don't recall having these same concerns with Adam, though I'm sure I did to some degree. My children are so different...

Adam is really starting to look like his mother yet sadly has been cursed with my sensitivity...my apprehensiveness. He spends long hours worrying about things outside of his control. He scars easily and sulks like a kicked puppy at times. Meanwhile Alex looks exactly like me, but acts like his momma. Talk about a firecracker. After 18 years together I still have a hard time predicting her actions and reactions. The same holds true with Lex; one minute he's curled up in my lap acting all sweet and the next he's chasing the cat around the house just for the fun of it. 

81

This month we celebrate my grandpa Hamm's 81st birthday. Grandpa Hamm the fisherman, the mechanic, the husband, father...the stubborn. At 81 years old he's almost exactly twice my age. I simultaneously fear and stand in awe of anyone that has managed to live that long. The multitude of lives he must have lived. The faces of friends and family that have crossed his path and then faded away just as quickly.  I stay awake at night frightened that tragedy will strike me in the coming hours. I pray for God to keep my children and my wife safe...to save me from the horrors others around me have endured.

I love my grandfather dearly but I must admit I've taken advantage of him and for that I feel guilty. Like a library shelf filled with books of all shapes and sizes, covering everything from religion to auto repair, I feel like I have a tendancy to pull people out of the stacks only to put them back on the shelf once I've gotten what I want from them. My guilt is only eased by the thought that such is life; people come and go each with their own purpose and then head back down their own path.  I remember friends from college, best friends I thought would be in my life forever only to have them disappear right before my eyes. A day turns into a month into a year and soon into a lifetime. We are in constant motion and at 81 years of age even my over active imagination can not fathom how many people my grandfather has met. I try not to think of what my life will look like should I make it that far.

He lost his wife last May. Almost 61 years to the day they joined hands in marriage and made promises that lasted a life time. Slowly she slipped away into peaceful slumber, him by her side every heartbeat of the way. I watched from a distance. Scared of what I might see should I get too close. The feeling of something way to heavy for me to handle keeping me at arms length. I talk to my wife all through the day and at times in my sleep at night. I can't imagine not being able to hear her speak back. Not to feel the breathe come from her lips. Feet grazing each other while fast asleep tucked safely in our bed. 

I suspect that at 81 distractions become merely that. Movies, books, television...who has time for those things when there are hummingbirds to be watched, flowers to see bloom, grand and great-grandchildren to soak up. Recently he's started going back to church. When a man like Clovis Hamm walks down that isle, a man with hands like tree trunks and a heart just as big, people take notice. It sets an example when a man everyone leans on humbles himself before The Lord. What grandchild doesn't want to see their pawpaw waiting for them in Heaven someday?

A thousand pictures cover the house. A homage to the lives that sprung from it. He built it with his own hands, my grandfather did. Once upon a time it housed a wife, a husband, and four girls. Now it sits half empty, a temple filled with precious artifacts. He walks its halls like a security guard forever keeping it safe and intact. 

When we look at him we see love. We see each other...and although she's no longer visibly by his side, we also see his forever bride. 

MawMaw

I was the first. At some point along the way she became everyone’s Granny, but I was the first grandchild…the first boy of the family and to me she was always MawMaw. I’m not sure why it changed, but I remember at some point in high school being slightly embarrassed when I told my friends I spent the weekend at my MawMaw and PawPaw’s house; but that’s how I always thought of her.

When I think of her I remember food. To this very day every time I go over to that house with the long hallway that used to seem like it went on for miles, it’s all I can do not open up the fridge and check out what leftovers might be available. The best fried pork chops I’ve ever had in my life. Pot roast with carrots and potatoes slow cooked in a baking bag. Oh and of course who can forget that macaroni and cheese! I’ve tried making it so many times and can’t get it right. I know the recipe by heart; Velveeta cheese, noodles, and a can of condensed milk (Not sweetened. I made that mistake once and the result was some kind of nasty cheesy desert nightmare). The last time I tried to make her mac n’ cheese, it ended up so thick I nearly broke a wooden spoon trying to stir it. To this day twice a year I try to make Biscuit Stuff (ground beef, sour cream, tomato sauce, lined with biscuits along the top and then covered in cheese)….I do alright with it, but it’s not same. 

I remember sweet tea. She’d boil it on the stove and pour it into this two gallon glass jug. She would drink her tea out of a blue or green Tupperware glass similar to what Uncle Si drinks his out of. She’d add a touch of Real-Lemon and unfortunately never finished a glass as long as I was around. MawMaw would get so frustrated when I came up and took the glass from her. 

I remember once I asked for a bowl of shredded wheat. She sat the bowl in front of me and just watched as I started pouring salt over it. “Are you sure you don’t want sugar on that?” she asked. Now we both knew immediately I had made a disastrous mistake, but I’ve always been stubborn. Instead of pouring the bowl into the trash can, I simply replied “This is how we eat it at my house.”I then added a touch more for emphasis. I ate the entire bowl and it later made me sick as a dog, but I never admitted she was right and she never rubbed in my face how foolish I had been.

It’s any wonder I’m so stubborn, I learned from the best. I can’t count the number times she made me cut my own switch or stand still so she could whoop me with the back of a hairbrush. One time she told me to go cut a switch and I flat out refused. “I ain’t cutting a switch and you can't make me!” She just looked at me with those eyes squinted so tight you had to wonder how she could see out of them; lips drawn up over clinched teeth….needless to say I still got the whoop’n that was coming to me. 

Brock and I would spend the night quite a bit in those early days and she’d make us take showers before bed…and then another first thing in the morning. We’d argue about it every time. I just never could understand how I could possibly have gotten dirty just laying there on that egg carton mattress asleep for six hours. She insisted that we sweat in our sleep. Of course I’d come back with some smart mouth comment about how if it didn’t feel like a furnace in there all the time we wouldn’t have to keep having this conversation. Yet there I was taking another shower just a few hours after I’d had the last one. 

I think she’s the reason I can’t lie. To this very day some thirty years later, it simply kills me not to tell the truth. PawPaw had this old pump action BB gun he’d let me practice with. You’d have to pump the thing ten times before you could get a shot off. I’d grab that BB gun and head off into the patch of woods there by the house. I was bent on trying to kill a bird though I never succeeded. There’s an old shack up on the far left corner of the property where a couple rusted out cars were stored….they may still be there for all I know. I was up there looking for birds or squirrels and saw this side view mirror hanging from a tree. Now that mirror had been there for as long as I could remember and for some reason on that day, I decided it was time for it to meet its maker. So I pumped that BB gun just like I was taught, lined up the sites just right….and to my complete horror I hit the blasted thing dead center! I remember being so scared. I’d never hit anything I’d aimed at before. I completely understood what I had done. This was not an accident. I pulled the trigger and hit what I was aiming at. Immediately the guilt started eating away at me, yet somehow I made it home without saying a word to anyone. After a bit Mom knew something was up. Finally I just broke down crying over what I’d done; the guilt eating me from the inside out. I called the house and when MawMaw answered the phone, I just blabbed the entire story. I simply couldn’t handle them not knowing how I’d done that on purpose and then went on home like nothing ever happened. I remember she said I’d be punished the next time I came over and I was. 

My MawMaw would take us to church. We’d go to Jacksonburg Church of Christ and sit in the balcony. If you got out of line, you could count on getting the fire pinched out of you before you even realized you were goofing off. There wasn’t any talking back or pleading your case, you obeyed and that’s just the way it was. I remember PawPaw disappearing towards the end of service one time. I thought he just had to go to the bathroom, when suddenly I saw him down there heading towards the front pew. I remember the hugs and the tears of joy that followed afterward. It wasn’t till I was much older before I realized exactly what I had been witness to. 

Lastly I remember smoking a cigarette in front her. I must have only been 17. I was hanging around on their back porch and decided it was time they knew just who I really was. I was a smoker and wasn’t nothing they could say that could change that. So we are all sitting there; breeze blowing through the trees. I pulled that cigarette out of my pocket, lit that bad boy up like I’d done so many times before, and had me a cigarette with my MawMaw. She never said a word; never acted like it was that big a deal. I hadn’t proved anything other than what kind of idiot I was for thinking that smoking in front of my grandmother was going to be some kind of major victory in my war for independence. 

In the Bible we are given countless examples of how the Lord provides us with what we need whether we know what that is or not. We are shown how God looks out for those that believe and always does what’s best for them……the reason I can’t get her recipes right, is because the main ingredient isn’t a special kind of cheese..it’s love. The kind of love that only a MawMaw has for her grandchildren; the same kind of love that would lead God to send his son to the cross so that the rest of us could be free. The reason she made me cut those switches, take those extra showers, and make those stupid mistakes without saying a word, is because she always knew what was best for me even when I didn’t know it myself. For that I will be eternally thankful to her.

From A Worn Out Boot

My dad spent several years in the Army and later the Reserves while I was growing up. He trampled through the jungles of Central America and later spent time at various military bases in and around the South. I remember being a kid and seeing him dressed up in his uniform. Wearing that camouflage jacket and pants; a puke green shirt underneath. Sometimes I would put that jacket on. Feel the weight of it on my shoulders. I can still feel it wrapped around me and see those sleeves going way past my hands as I marveled at how gigantic it felt. I remember his boots...

He wore a pair of standard issue combat boots. Specifically designed with only one purpose in mind and that was to survive any situation. Those black leather boots that laced all the way to the top and fit like a glove. He used to polish the stew out of those things. I don't recall ever seeing them dirty and if I did, it wasn't for very long. He'd get that black tin can of Kiwi shoe polish and put a shine on those boots like you wouldn't believe. No telling how old those boots were. Cracks and creasing were there, but to me that just added to their appearance. What good are a pair of boots that haven't ever been anywhere?

For some reason I've been thinking a lot about those boots lately. How their flaws were just a part of who they were and didn't get in the way of their purpose. I think in many ways we are all like a pair of combat boots. We are all on a journey. Every day we pull ourselves out of bed and continue down the path in front of us. Each of us having our own share of cracks and creases that we do our best to hide...to smooth out. Far from perfect and flawed in our own little ways that maybe only we can see ourselves. I think it's important to understand this about each other. It's important to realize that at any given time we are all either coming out of, in the middle of, or preparing to go into a life event. We all have things we wish we hadn't said and have been hurt by the actions of others whether intentional or accidental. Like a pair of combat boots none of us are perfect and have traveled millions of miles one step at a time to get to where we are. When we do show our faults...when we unintentionally hurt others or are offended by someone, we should approach the situation with understanding and kindness. Come to the problem with grace and a soft voice. Never intending to throw anyone out like a pair of worn out boots, but to help smooth out the edges so we can all shine like we should.

Only one perfect person ever existed in this world and they stripped him bare, nailed him to a cross, and took him from those that loved him dearly. When we react to others angrily without thought and full of emotion, it hurts everyone involved. We could all stand to walk in one another's boots before casting stones. We could all stand a little bit of polishing every now and then....

Bill iii