The Foundation & Getting it Right

I am in my mid fifties and I have been married for a little over one year. Like many of us I had a string of failed relationships behind me. I had spent quite a bit of time alone in the past few years and I reached a place where I told God, "I don't want to be alone the rest of my life but if it is not something you are on board with I don't want any part of it because it will fail like all the others." I actually meant that when I said it. Because, let's be honest, don't we often charge down the path of our choosing and then ask God to bless it after the fact? I'm not saying he can't or won't, but it took me a long time to realize it is much wiser to bring him in earlier rather than later.

My wife, Julie, and I met at church where I jokingly say she barged across the front of the church and introduced herself and life was never the same. We had that wonderful initial mutual attraction where your emotions run wild and you miss that person the moment they depart. We even had a supernatural moment where we knew that God was on board if we chose to go forward. It was still our choice. We could have chosen to hang on to past hurts and future fears.

We prayed a lot together. We also shared unpleasant things about our past, about ourselves. That is hard isn't it? You are falling for this person and you don't want to give them pause. I often said to her. "Let's put all our chips on the table. Let's find out early if there is a deal breaker."

So that was our foundation. Honesty, not just about the good stuff we like to share, but the stuff we still have scars from. The things that we are still uncertain about.  By choosing to do this something almost as wonderful as falling in love with each other occurred.  By sharing those difficult things we found a safe place with each other and we helped heal each other of past hurts.

I am no one to counsel anyone. But even I know honesty is the only good way to build anything worthwhile. Push through that fear of hiding things, of ignoring that little voice in your spirit that keeps you from having peace.

I have written about a foundation, a beginning, so maybe many of you might think that this could not apply to you. I beg to differ, because I believe in a God of second chances. I believe you can choose to start over and not with someone else. You can choose to build the foundation fresh, even if it means first taking a sledgehammer to the previous foundation.

You have to be honest. You have to be able to handle truth. And the best advice I can give is when it feels like it is going astray, get down on your knees together and pray. God bless all of you.

 http://www.amazon.com/dp/1610091361

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Billy Beasley resides in Carolina Beach, NC with his wife Julie, and one spoiled rotten black Chihuahua mix, Sydny. He has lived in this area of southeastern North Carolina his entire life and many years ago was among the very first students to be bused to another school to achieve real integration.

He shares two simple beliefs with his favorite character in this novel. Faith in God and a conviction that ‘hearts have no color’.

The River Hideaway is his first published work of fiction.

Heaven is for Real

I saw Heaven is for Real last night and I continue to be encouraged with how well Christian based movies are doing at the box office. The theater was close to capacity last night, which considering it was beginning the third week I found impressive.

I enjoyed the movie and I won't play movie critic here, though we are all movie critics, aren't we? Some are just wise enough to get paid to do it.

The part that intrigued me the most was how the same people who prayed for the little boy's recovery, also found it difficult when he began speaking about visiting Heaven. I think it removed them from their comfort zones. It is easy for us to discount what we have not experienced personally. I have heard people say they are comfortable with their church, or their particular denomination, and its routine. I wonder did Jesus die on a cross so we could be comfortable?

It is also resonated with me with an event in my own life. I have shared previously about my Damascus Road bright light moment when I was a troubled young man. I was dramatically Born Again.

Many people questioned what happened, though my life turned immediately. A story like mine, turning from a life of drugs, alcohol abuse, crime, and promiscuity, I thought the church people would receive me with open arms, and some did. Many did not. They turned their nose up at me. They balked at a story of a young man walking a street one night, and hearing, and experiencing intimacy with God. His life changing with the blink of an eye. Maybe they did not understand because it did not happen to them. They questioned whether it was real. They questioned whether I was sincere. Maybe living on probation with a suspended sentence hanging over me, maybe, just maybe I was doing it to fool the law. Secretly, I was probably still distributing pounds of marijuana. 

Now, I always thought there was a God. I didn't believe until that night He met me as I walked gazing at the stars with no destination in mind. But in my worse days I would have never tried to involve God in a ruse like that. Justify my life, sure. But proclaim to be Born Again just to hide drug dealing. No, even I was not that bad. And, I was plenty bad.

They were uncomfortable with the change in my life. Just as many of the same people were uncomfortable with my Mom, who at the age of 53, a good church attending christian woman, also had her Damascus Road moment and was dramatically Born Again. They liked her better, were more comfortable with her being like them.

I was a young man then, and I did not realize how much courage it might have taken for a outstanding member in the church to say, "I never really knew Jesus Christ. I was too prideful. I thought I was better than other people." She changed as much as anyone I know. It did not matter that she did not have a bad life behind her to turn from. She went from a comfortable Sunday school teacher to being totally in love with a Savior. 


Maybe in hindsight it was not difficult for her to be that honest. Maybe she experienced something so powerful, so life rearranging, that she could not have kept quiet about it if she tried. She knew the voice she heard when she was so broken was real. Just as I knew it was Jesus Christ who met a lost young man on a street one night. And, yes, just as a little boy visited Heaven.

The world of Facebook has many drawbacks but one great thing is I have been blessed to reconnect with people of my youth. One in particular is Nicky Pipkin. I told him this story once of what occurred to me after we lost touch. He listened about how the good religious people reacted to my conversion. He said something that I have never forgotten.

"Maybe them not believing says more about their life than anything to do with yours."

Now available on Amazon.


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One Last Time

 

It has been a long but productive week. The file has been sent in its entirety one and hopefully last time. I worked till 2 this morning, (I am a morning person these days but not that early). It was a great feeling to turn the page & see it blank. As in no more corrections or places to trim the story a bit as suggested by the Publisher, which helps trim the price a bit. Julie & I prayed over it one more time before I hit the send button. I hope this does not come off as egotistical. I have no illusions of being a tenth the writer of someone like Pat Conroy. (my personal favorite) But I do love the story of The River Hideaway. There are parts all these years later that I get emotional about while reading. Have to tune that out when you are editing though. 

I was asked before the Publisher offered a contract. Who will read this book? Good question. I think people who are interested in that era of civil issues, though I want this clear from the beginning this is not an historical fiction piece. People interested in racial division, which sadly still exists. People that don't mind a spiritual element in a story as long as they are not being preached at. (I am the last person qualified to preach to anyone.) People that love a good drama, with mystery and love in it, but neither being the dominant theme of the story. 

One more week and hopefully it will be available for order next Sunday on mom's birthday. I wish you could be here to witness it. But I have to believe that God is allowing  you to peak over the balcony. I miss you but I will see you again. And that is my promise.

Blog on Oak Tree Press (The River Hideaway)

The River Hideaway is a story that is based in the area of Wilmington, North Carolina. The time line is 1967. This is a work of fiction and all the characters exist only in my heart and mind. Still, I could not have written this story without growing up in the South during the time that I did.

I was a product of the first year of forced busing in our area to achieve real integration in our schools. My classmates and I left our predominately white junior high as eighth graders in 1971 armed with the knowledge that we would be the kings of our school after summer vacation. Shortly before our ninth grade began we were informed that we would be bused downtown to what had been two predominately black schools that now would serve as ninth grade centers. It was a clash of cultures that proved interesting to say the least.

Wilmington, NC, like much of the south was a place of much civil unrest during my youth. We were on national news when a curfew was installed because of rioting. There was also the famous Wilmington 10 trial. 

As a boy, I was very close with my Grandmother, Ruth Rogers, and had a more distant relationship with my Grandfather, Jack Rogers. They ran a local fish market until I was nine years old.

We were watching racial riots play out on television when my grandfather said something I hold dear to this day. He was not an educated man but looking back as we watched white and black fight over skin color he said a simple but very wise thing. "Good and bad in all. Good and bad in black. Good and bad in white." I did not realize then what gives me great pride today. My Grandfather delivered fish to black neighborhoods and sat and ate with his customers during a time that was not done. My mom said that she truly believed that Granddad saw no color. My grandparents have long ago departed this earth. But there was a time when I was in the work force as a young man and I would cross paths with an elderly black person and as we shared stories I would mention the fish market. It warms me to this day to recall the endearing voice used when someone would say, "Mr. Jack was your Granddaddy!"

I also recall during that time of unrest  recall sitting in the Southern Baptist Church my family attended and thinking shouldn't this be where we bring our differences? Isn't God's love what could heal all of this ugliness? I did not dare voice that. I knew I was in a place where they would rail against drinking a beer while telling racial jokes in the parking lot. My mom once shared a story that a choir from another area visited our church. The choir contained a black girl. People left and that included some of the deacons of the church.

The idea for the book came to me while watching one of my favorite movies, "A Time to Kill," with my best friend Jack Humphrey. At some point I said to him what if this rich white kid and a black kid meet on a basketball court back in the 60's and become best friends? Many years later here we are. 

One of my favorite scriptures is 1 Samuel 16:7. ...People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart."

One of my favorite characters in The River Hideaway has a belief that 'Hearts have no color.' I concur wholeheartedly.

It is safe to say racial issues have intrigued me for a long time. Next is a blurb of The River Hideaway. 

The year is 1967 and Wilmington, NC, like much of the nation is embedded in racial turmoil. Bret Marin and Money Wilkins, two boys on the cusp of manhood meet on a basketball court where each earns a measure of respect that leads to an improbable friendship.

Bret’s life is constructed around his love for his little brother Alex and hatred of their cruel wealthy father. Money Wilkins possesses no external luxuries but thanks to his proud black father, Clarence, a builder of houses and lives, he has the greater riches. When his beautiful sister Teke visits it sets off a series of events no one could foresee. The most chilling being the dark night the Klan appears. 

Content

Content is the word I woke too on this beautiful morning. It is very difficult for us to be content isn't it? I know it is for me. Maybe it is a complex situation we face, or maybe the desires of our heart are not being met in the time frame we think it should be.

Julie and I are approaching our one year anniversary. I was single for a long time, as she was and one of the fun things was merging two households into one. Even now I find myself longing not for any mansion but a slightly bigger house. That may never happen, or it might be a long time if it indeed does occur. How do I approach the issue today? Do I spend time longing for something down the road or do I accept and be thankful for where I am today? One thing is for certain and that is if I focus on the intangible things of tomorrow I will not enjoy and be fruitful today. 

There is always the possibility that it is not a bigger home we need but rather maybe we need to give away or discard items we have held on to for way too long. There was a period in my life that due to my poor choices my son and I moved four times in less than one year. I surely could not afford movers. Being forced to load and haul things multiple times sure did reduce the clutter in my life. There were many things that you realized were not worth the effort to hang on too.

I have a big date approaching and I have worked diligently on my end to ensure the project is complete on time. Still, I am wary that it will occur because other people are involved. Last night I came to the reality that I have wasted too much time worrying. It is time for me to be content. Maybe the date I had written in stone is not the best one. Maybe God has a better date. Maybe he just wants me to be a man of my word and release it fully to him. Am I the only one that says, "I release this problem, project, etc to you Father" and then start worrying about it moments later, therefore reclaiming it?

My goal in my walk with our Savior is to live Philippians 4: 11, 12.  

Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. 12I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need.

I researched definitions for the word content. I will share just one. It when the word is used as an adjective.

In a state of peaceful happiness I will take that over anything material this world has to offer.

The Dream Never Changed

As I write this blog this morning there is one month to go until the release of The River Hideaway. There are tasks yet to be done. Choosing a book cover, one more read through for editing purposes.   I wonder how many times I have read, rewrote, and edited this book. Maybe twenty times, maybe twenty five over the years?

I guess I should be nervous. I have promotion tasks to carry out and I will have to address certain groups. Aw, public speaking, very excited about that. :( I sure hope the audience can understand extreme southern dialogue.

The truth is I am for the most part peaceful about it all. Don't get me wrong I have certainly had my moments of anxiety and sleepless nights during this process but it reaches a point where you have to believe and follow what you know to be true. I have to own the words that I speak. They can't be words derived only from my mouth but from my heart.

Many times I have lifted this book up to the King of Kings and said, "This book is yours."  I have to believe that just as I believe after all the years of pursuing this dream that this door was opened not by Oak Tree Press but from my Father. It didn't happen until I let go of the wheel of this life. He knew I meant it when I said, "I want this dream but if you are not walking through the door with me, close it."

The success of The River Hideaway will not be defined by how many books are sold. It would be great if it did well enough to open the doors for the four other manuscripts that reside on my computer, as well as others that right now are only an idea. I would love to write full time and never punch a clock again. But if it sells one thousand copies and that is all that ever happens with my writing I will earnestly say, "Thank you, God."

One of the people I shared the early news with was my nephew, little brother, and friend, Paul Atkinson. I knew he would understand how much it meant. He is a gifted musician, songwriter and he knows what art means to him and to others that have something in our hearts that we have to get out in some way shape or form. He also put it in a perspective that I had not yet thought of. He said the book was a piece of me that would be here long after I departed from this world. http://www.reverbnation.com/paulatkinson


This journey has never been about fame or fortune. My dream has not changed from the first day I went down this path in 1997 with an ill fated first draft of a story that will never be published in its original format but helped me learn how to put words on paper. It also served as tremendous therapy but that is another story for another day.

My dream has always been to be walking on the beach I love so dearly and see someone reading and enjoying a story crafted from my heart. It is that simple for me.  

Julie

Mark Batterson writes often of the inverted gospel. I am the poster child of that life, though I suspect I am not alone. I walked through life making my choices, seeking what I thought I needed to be happy, and if I could find those things on my own, then maybe I would ask God to come in and bless my life. Maybe then I would follow his path, however, I always had this nagging suspicion even when things were grand that it would never last as long as I led the way.

I will not pretend that I did not have my share of fun. I did. But somewhere along the way the down times grew deeper, and the ride was no longer worth the fall. Life became emptier with each excursion. Now a wise man when reaching this conclusion would have turned but I stubbornly held on because as bad as things got at times I still trusted my way more than God.

I sat in church yesterday with my wife Julie beside me. I reflected on her beauty, grace, the depth of heart that she possesses. I pursued love in my own vision and all of those times put together does not hold a candle to what I feel when she looks at me with clear eyes straight from her heart.

As stated many times before I was angry at God for most of my life. A minister would share how we are not worthy or don't feel worthy and I wanted to shout bull. I deserve the best of everything God. But I tell you when it comes to Julie I tell God he gave me way more than I ever deserved. Way more than I ever dreamed. She often tells me I taught her things and hopefully this is so but my wife taught me what real love is. There are not many lessons greater than that.

One thing we did as we were discovering each other that I know I did not always do and I bet many of you did not as well. Be honest with each other. Put all your cards on the table early. Let go of the fear that if I tell them who I really am they may not like me.I used the term deal breaker with Julie. Is this a deal breaker, or that deal breaker?

One thing I knew about Julie was I would never be first in her life. And for once I was glad of this in a relationship. I can't measure up to being someone's whole world. I will fail them and they will fail me.

Julie might have been attracted to me a few years ago but she would have stayed away from me and rightfully so. I needed to be a man seeking the kingdom first.

Julie was like a lot of us when we are alone. She would ask God where is the man for me? Once he responded to her that he was getting that man ready. But we don't want to wait do we? So we rush ahead, the inverted gospel at work. I want this relationship God and I want you to bless it... after I  get it.

Maybe along this same time frame I remember praying one day. "God I do not want to be alone forever but if it is not someone that you approve of and will bless our path then I would rather remain alone because it will fail like every relationship has failed before." That was big for me because having that special relationship with someone who would treasure love the way I do was my hearts greatest desire.

I think at that moment God might have peered over the balcony of Heaven and spoke to those around him. "Aw, I have his attention. Let's go to work."

Yesterday after church we shared a laugh with Julie's parents, Don and Jan. A few years back Julie's mom one day in frustration was praying and asked God where is the man for my Julie? Lord, I don't care if he is in his 50's as long as he loves you and will love our daughter. Tell me God was not preparing all of us for what was coming.

This past Friday when we went to the movie, 'Son of God,' with Julie's parents. Jan introduced me to a couple she knew. "This is our son in law. Julie's husband, and we could not be happier." I don't know how you could not see God in the things that have transpired with Julie and I. I not only have a wonderful wife who treasures nearly every moment with me but I have a wonderful loving relationship with her parents. It is often me who says to Julie, "Call your parents and see if they want to meet us for..."  I do this because I enjoy their company.I listen to the soft words of wisdom that often come from Julie's dad.

We all have our stuff don't we? One amazing thing that occurred with Julie and I as we were dating is not only were we falling in love and sharing the laughter of such an event. We helped heal each other of past hurts. We cried together as we learned we could trust each other. I mentioned my past failed relationships. Some that ended badly. One day as I was saying something else derived from past pain, Julie looked at me and said, "You keep sharing stuff as if this going to be the one thing that drives me out the door. I am not leaving." she stated, leaving no room for debate. I needed that.

You know what one thing God so graced me that I could give to his child that he so dearly loves? I am humbled and yet very proud that I was able to do this. I showed her how beautiful she is. She did not know. Often in those early days if I was to say something like that she would drop her head. I would lift her chin gently and say, "Julie I need you to hear me."

Very soon it will be one year since we were married. It has been the best time of my life. Thank you God. I have no words to truly express my gratitude.


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