So Billy had worn himself plum out over the course of the evening. This comes as no surprise whatsoever. In fact, all you readers out there may be tuckered out just from reading about his big night. But let us not neglect his ol’ buddy Curtis. What was he doing (besides praying) the night of Chloe’s big party? For the moment, we will rewind a few hours and pick up the action where we left him, over at Clay’s house.
Curtis had prayed with his small band of prayer warriors, spoke on the phone with Mr. Harris, and then prayed all over again. Shortly after that, Curtis left – but he left feeling terrible. He had found himself in the uncomfortable position of having to inform Mr. Harris of what had happened. But he could not lie – and telling half-truths is the same thing as lying. To be perfectly frank, it was his best friend that put him in that dangerous circumstance in the first place; if anyone was to blame, it would be Billy Harris Jr. But we digress. Pointing fingers is a waste of time when we could be sharing their interesting tale.
Curtis stopped to pick up the pizzas (which were getting cold) and took them all home. After informing his parents that Billy was not coming after all, he ate and retreated back to the den.
Less than an hour later, his phone buzzed. Sure enough, it was Billy. The message read (making corrections in spelling, grammar, and punctuation), “Hey man. Tonight was horrible and it is all my fault. I’m sorry.” Curtis smiled. Apparently, everything would be okay. Curtis knew that Billy would come around sooner or later – he always has. God truly answers prayer. Curtis began to reply back.
“Dude! That’s all you had to say.”
“Thanks.”
Curtis looked down at his phone with curiosity. Was Billy thanking him for forgiving him so quickly? He texted back. “Thanks? For what?”
Billy’s reply came quickly. “For being you. For being my friend through the good and the not-so-good. I guess folks like me need to be taken down a notch or two every once in a while.”
The boys then made plans to see the Falls the next day after the morning service and texted their goodbyes. But something about this string of texts struck Curtis as strange. He scrolled back up and re-read the conversation. “Folks like me? What was that supposed to mean?” he asked himself. Curtis went back in his mind over the past few weeks. Billy was talking about his family as if they were wealthy. Was that what he meant? Was Billy taking this gag too far or has he actually convinced himself of this nonsense? Wait a minute. Was it nonsense? Curtis strode over to the computer and logged on. If nothing else, I can prove him wrong with just a little research. He grinned at the thought.
He looked up the stellar history of Crowe Athletic Equipment from its humble origins to its meteoric rise as a powerhouse corporation. Over the next twenty minutes or so, he familiarized himself with products, stores, merchandizing, and the like. Finally, he found an article that might be what he was looking for. Crowe did indeed have a board of directors. Their job was to keep the place swimming in the right direction. But the whole time, the founder was always at the head. He read on. Upon the founder’s death, that position fell to his niece Diane Harris and her husband, William.
“DO WHAT?” Curtis did a double take. “Picture. Where’s a picture?” He did some clicking around with no luck. Finally, he found a group shot of the board of directors that included a couple standing in the back. They could be the Harris’. He zoomed in. About fourteen years had gone by since the photo was shot. Their hair was slightly darker. They were both thinner in those days. And the man was holding a one-year-old baby boy. The baby was cheesing it up for the camera, proud of those two little baby teeth on the bottom row. Could that be Billy as a baby? Yeah, it was them. “Uh … wow! So Billy was telling the truth. How cool is that?!”
He began to laugh at himself. The truth was right in front of his face and yet no one, not even Billy’s best friend, would believe him. This was hilarious! One of the biggest enterprises in the world was being controlled by his buddy’s family - - and they just lived in an average home just five houses down. This was too much. He sat at the computer for another ten minutes or so, reading some more, and then he logged off and laid down on his bed.
He lost himself in thought. He was thinking back to his friend Clay and his mom’s modest finances. I’ll tell you one thing, he said to himself. If I had that kind of money, the Peck’s would never have to worry about another medical bill ever again. He stopped and considered that thought. Wait a minute. He sat up. Clay’s bills were paid by some mysterious stranger. Some generous person or persons took care of that. I wonder if … Oh man! It has to be. Wow! This reminds me of the time when someone anonymously helped Mr. Piper replace his diesel rig when … Curtis may have stumbled upon something. … when he lost it in that big fire. Oh wow! Come to think of it, someone quietly gave money to the Brown’s when they were adopting those twin girls from Haiti. What’s going on around here? He was so excited about his discovery that Curtis got up and grabbed a pencil and some paper. He began to make a list of times that he had heard about local people being assisted by a silent benefactor. This little mystery was getting rather interesting.
It had been a long night. Let us review what we had witnessed for a matter of public record. Billy deceived his parents, felt out-of-place at a party, was publicly humiliated by the girl he was stuck on, was rescued by his dad, and had dinner with a homeless man down in the capital. Crazy night with a wild finish.
From William’s point of view, the drive back to Pecan Falls from Little Rock seemed all too short. Father and son filled the time sharing funny stories and singing campy old songs. After a while, Billy started to slow down. They were still a few miles outside of Pecan Falls when William looked over and noticed that Billy’s eyes were getting heavy. The truck may have had a half-tank of gas, but Billy himself was running on empty. Soon, he was out all-together. He had had a big night anyway so William did not mess with him. His son had earned this sleepy moment.
Soon, William pulled into their quiet driveway and turned off the engine. One of his greatest pleasures since bringing Billy home from the hospital as a baby had been watching him sleep. It was one of the most beautiful sights in the world to both William and Diane. Their son might be a teenager, but that much had not changed. The dad was still overwhelmed by the great gift God had given them. It was now time to get his son in the house, but William kept looking at him. Two minutes lapsed and he finally gave his son a gentle nudge. “Billy? Billy? Wake up. We’re home. You need to go inside and get in your bed.”
Billy moved slowly and had a big stretch. He then tried to open the door to the truck with his weak eyes barely open. William walked around the truck to be of assistance and directed his son toward the house. This sort of scenario had played itself out many times over the past fifteen years with slight variations in detail – the most popular of which involved William simply carrying Billy inside with his sleeping head firmly resting on William’s shoulder, legs dangling in unresponsive slumber. Now that Billy was nearing man-size, that was not going to work; his days of being carried were long gone. Billy got up and stumbled his way to the house like something from a zombie movie.
While Billy was getting ready for bed, William had gone into the kitchen and poured himself a small glass of milk (whole milk – not ‘diet milk’ as he called it). After a few sips, he took the wet clothes from the washing machine and loaded them up in that demon-possessed dryer of theirs. He started the noisy appliance and finished his milk. On his way to bed, he stopped by Billy’s room and had a small talk with him. The talk was wonderful. He informed his son that feeding the poor was not just a game for the rich – but that people from any social strata could exercise generosity. From there, he kissed his boy on the forehead, turned off the light, and crossed the darkened hall into their room.
Diane was in bed and had been for the past hour. William tried not to wake her, but she was already awake. Naturally, she was concerned about her baby. “So how’s Billy?” she asked as she tilted her head upright. “Will he survive?”
“Oh, I think so. I just needed to get him out of that place.” He untucked his shirt and pulled his socks off.
Though sleepy, Diane was articulate in what she said. She had given her little speech a great deal of thought. “Well, I don’t like where this has been going lately. He used our debit card without permission. Tonight, he deliberately withheld from us where he was going. It sounds like he has been ditching his good friends for a different crowd – and we don’t even know these people. Do you suppose it is merely his age or do you think his discovery of the money had affected him somehow?”
William was unbuttoning his shirt. “I don’t know. Perhaps a combination of the two. Growing up is difficult enough. And let’s be honest: The little guy just found out that his parents possess a lot more money than he had ever believed. At least, you and I have been around the idea long enough to show a little discipline or just blow it off. For us, it really didn’t change anything – except we can be a lot more generous than we were before. For him though, this changes everything. Just think of all the potential ways that big money can alter the life of a teenager.”
“Did tonight help any?”
“I don’t know. It certainly wasn’t anything like he expected.” That last concession forced a little chuckle from William.
Diane laid her head back down. “I wish that we could show him that the money doesn’t mean that we are entitled to any special treatment. People don’t serve us. On the contrary, the money gives us a greater opportunity to wait on others, to meet other people’s needs.”
“He’ll get it,” William said as he stood up. “It may take some time, but he’ll get it. You should’ve seen him tonight. I could tell by his eyes that he was soaking it all in.”
She added, “That’s good. And don’t forget about this party he attended. I don’t know what all happened, but he probably got to see how the other side of money lives.”
William pulled his belt clear of the belt loops. “Well, he didn’t go into any huge detail, but it sounds like he wasn’t invited to be accepted. He was made fun of.”
Diane made a sad face at the sound of this news. “Aww. Poor Billy.”
“Yep.” William walked over to the restroom. When he reemerged, he was wearing some pajama pants and a fairly recent college shirt. He opened the drawer on his night table and pulled out a journal. He began to write.
“What are you doing? Are you recording all of this?”
“Yeah. I want to get it down while it was still fresh in my mind.”
“How many of those do you have now?”
“I am finishing up my tenth one.”
“I love reading them. It is so nice to be able to revisit those memories.”
Ever since Billy was a baby, William had written down various episodes of his son’s life, important milestones, and little cutesy things that he would say. But William now found himself recording other important events, times when he himself had to struggle and learn as a father.
Side note: This may sound silly, but William was not born a father. When Billy came around, he had no previous experience as a parent, neither him nor Diane. They both had to learn everything on the way. Sometimes it was a real struggle. And sometimes they messed up. They discovered that parenting was not an easy job. The hardest part was learning how to be resented at times by the one you loved most. On occasion, it would seem that the pain was not worth the effort. But it was totally worth it. So please be patient with your parents; and hopefully someday, your children will be patient with you.
After a minute or so, Diane rolled over toward her husband. “Wow. It is hard to image. He’s already a sophomore. In less than three short years, he’ll be graduating. I don’t think that I’m quite ready for that. He’s just growing up way too fast.”
“Tell me about it,” William said while still writing. “What I don’t understand is how it took me years and years and years to get to the age he is now, and Billy seems to have gotten there overnight.” He finished writing and returned the journal to the drawer where it sat before. He turned off his lamp and crawled into bed. “I was thinking about something Mrs. Dunbar told me years ago. I remember when Billy was about five or six, I made the comment that I was really going to miss him being a two-year-old. Then she said something very wise to me. She said that her kids were grown and that she still enjoys them, even in their adult years. She told me to enjoy our son at whatever age he was at that time. And she was right. It would be a shame to spend the entire year he was fifteen wishing he were still twelve; and then wishing he were still fifteen two years from now.” He started laughing to himself. “I don’t think I’m making any sense.”
“You’re not. You should stop talking and get some sleep.”
“You mean that I should stop talking so that you could get some sleep.”
She rolled back over. “That thought never entered by mind.”
As his body began to relax, he added, “I don’t know if we have disciplined our son properly tonight, but I am reminded of Proverbs 29:17. ‘Correct thy son, and he shall give thee rest; yea, he shall give delight unto thy soul.’”
Mentioning ‘rest’ seemed like the logical place to fall asleep, so they both responded obediently to the call. Moonlight broke through the blinds and lit up the floor in carefully measured geometric bars. All was quiet in the house.
… well, except for the clamor coming from their horrid dryer.