What a Difference a Day Makes

 

Twenty-four hours.   One thousand four hundred forty minutes.   Eighty six thousand four hundred seconds.   Not a lot of time in the “big picture” of things, but enough time for changes.  Some changes for a lifetime.

Yesterday, children got out of bed eagerly anticipating Friday, a fun day at school as the week winds down and the weekend begins.  Yesterday, children got up and ate breakfast.  Yesterday, children picked out their own outfits for school.  Yesterday, children ran into the schoolhouse, laughing and talking with classmates.  Yesterday, children greeted their teachers as they walked into class. Yesterday, children put up their backpacks and sat down at their desks to begin what seemed to be like any other Friday.  Yesterday, children wondered why someone was shooting off firecrackers in the school building.  Yesterday, some children saw their last Friday on this earth.   Yesterday, some children experienced a horror that no one should ever have to experience.  Yesterday, some children’s lives were snuffed out in an instance.  Yesterday, some children’s idea of innocence was forever shattered.  Yesterday, some children witnessed images that will be with them for the rest of their lives.

Yesterday, parents got out of bed with the same routine of most days.  Yesterday, parents woke up being thankful for Friday, a day of excitement (even for parents) as the workweek ends, and anticipation of the weekend.  Yesterday, parents prepared pancake breakfasts and packed peanut butter and jelly lunches.  Yesterday, parents reminded their children to get their backpacks and school supplies for the day.  Yesterday, parents and children planned a weekend of dinners out, movies, and Santa visits at the mall.  Yesterday, parents hugged little necks goodbye for the day, and some goodbye for eternity.  Yesterday, parents went to work; went to the grocery store; went about their lives---just like any other Friday.  Yesterday, parents had no idea that this Friday would end up being much different that any other Friday. 

Yesterday, teachers got out of bed; ready to go to school and teach the children in their classes.  Yesterday, these teachers probably anticipated the weekend, but even more so, the upcoming holiday break.  Yesterday, teachers probably got to school early to plan and prepare for the day.  Yesterday, teachers welcomed kindergarteners with smiles and laughter.  Yesterday, teachers began the school day with enthusiasm and dedication that only teachers have.  Yesterday, teachers heard gunshots.  Yesterday, teachers ran straight toward a gunman, only to be shot down in his path.   Yesterday, teachers locked doors and hid students.  Yesterday, teachers shielded students, while laying down their own lives.  Yesterday, some teachers became heroes.  Yesterday, some teachers became memories.

Yesterday, a monster gunned down his mother in her home.  Yesterday, a monster drove to a school and forced his way inside.  Yesterday, a monster methodically and purposely walked down school hallways, and killed teachers.  Yesterday, a monster walked into full classrooms and executed children at will.  Yesterday, a monster took the cowardly way out by turning his own gun on himself. 

Today, children are in shock.  Today, children have lost innocence forever.  Today, children wonder “why?”  Today, children are afraid to go to school.  Today, children are without classmates, teachers, and parents.  Today, children are not concerned with Santa Claus or Christmas.  Today, children know the feeling of heart break.

Today, parents are in denial of how such a tragedy could have occurred.   Today, some parents have lost the light of their lives.  Today, some parents want to die.  Today, some parents would give anything just to be able to turn back time.  Today, some parents don’t know how to go on living.  Today, some parents blame God.  Today, some parents blame guns.  Today, some parents are too numb to feel anything.

Today, teachers worry that this could happen at any school, anywhere.  Today, teachers eagerly await Monday, when they can go to school and hug those precious students a little longer.  Today, some teachers are afraid to go back into the classroom.  Today, some teachers are being called heroes because of the immense bravery and dedication they exhibited in a time of crisis.  Today, some teachers are remembered for the wonderful people they were, and will continue to be in the hearts of those who so dearly loved them. 

Today, a monster has a name and a face on national television.  Today, a monster is dead, but few people mourn the loss.  Today, a monster is said to have been mentally unstable.  Today, a monster has rocked a nation to its core.  

Twenty-four hours.  One thousand four hundred forty minutes.  Eighty six thousand four hundred seconds.   Not a lot of time in the “big picture” of things, but enough time for changes.  Some changes for a lifetime.

"Mr. Bill"

There are some people that we meet in this life that truly change us forever.  Whether they are in our lives for years, months, or just a season, their "mark" in unmistakable, and it remains with us always.

"Mr. Bill" Carlisle, as my children have always called him, was such a person.  I remember meeting him around twelve years ago.  He, along with his sweet wife, June, had begun worshiping at our local congregation.  I knew they both loved music, and I so enjoyed getting to know them as fellow members of our praise team.  Bill had a quiet, unassuming way when I first met him.  He was soft spoken and genuine.  As I got to know him, I learned of his comical side, and how he loved a good prank or joke.  From his flaming red suit to his rockabilly stage presence, Bill was one of a kind!

Bill was a genuine joy to be around, and he loved his family, his friends, and his music.  As part of the Grand Ole Opry for decades with his father (Jumping Bill Carlisle, Sr.), he was a master musician.  He had a beautiful bass voice, and loved to use it in our praise songs at church.

Bill was probably the kindness man I've ever known! When he became a business associate of my husband's, he used to brighten our days quite often.  I was working with Jeff at the time, and many days we would be working away, and we would hear a "vroom-vroom" outside. It would be Bill, pulling up on his motorcycle. He was just coming by to see us, sit and have a cup of coffee. He would sit in the front office with me, and tell stories and jokes, while Jeff, and his partner, Tim, were busy with the everyday life of financial planning/insurance business. He'd stop his stories if I had to answer the phone or greet another customer, and then he'd just continue from there. He might sit there and talk for an hour or so, and then just get up, and say, "Well, I guess I better let you get back to work!" Just sweet Bill in his loving and unassuming way!

A little over two years ago, Bill's and Jane's lives were forever changed after a tragic motorcycle accident.  The doctors were astounded that Bill lived through the trauma, but he did.  Paralyzed from the neck down, Bill's spirit never waivered.  His faith in God never left him.  His love for June never grew any dimmer, and her love and devotion to him seemed to grow every day.  He spoke in a breathy voice, but he said was "here" to do God's work as long as God wanted him "here."  He was ready to "go home" two years ago, but Bill still had a lot of teaching to do with us.  

These past two years, he has taught us so much from a bed and a wheelchair.  He taught my boys that you never give up no matter what happens to you.  When they both saw him shortly after the accident in a rehabilitation hospital in Atlanta, it really bothered them.  They had been used to seeing him so active--singing on stage, or riding his bike.  I remember Conner asking me if I thought "Mr. Bill" would ever get to play his guitar again.  

Well, Bill never physically played that guitar again.  His body failed him over the past two years, and we prayed that somehow God would heal him, and we could have him back just like before.  That was not God's plan for Bill.  God's plan was for Bill to stay with us for a short time longer.  Then, last week, God's plan was for Bill to leave us.  God's plan was for Bill to come "home" to Him.  Bill always knew that God's plan was so much greater than ours.  

So, this week, we will all say goodbye to Bill, and we will celebrate a life well lived on this earth.  A Godly man, who honored God even in a tragic circumstance.  A Godly wife, who showed us the meaning of true commitment and love for a spouse.  Bill has gone away from us, but he has truly changed those who knew him forever.  Our season with Bill is over for now, but so much of him  remains with us always.

My Jeff put it in a sweet way when I called him to tell us Bill had left us.  Jeff said that he could just imagine Bill "jumping for joy" with a new body and no more pain.  I imagine him, guitar in hand, grinning from ear to ear, and telling a joke to the angels!  Heaven is all the sweeter with Bill Carlisle there, and I look forward to seeing him again some day!