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Last Sunday, my dear friend, Bill Newman, had a massive aortic (heart) aneurysm that led to some brain damage, and he is currently fighting for his life at Seton Hays, ICU. His wife, Jordan, one of the most precious people in the world, and their 7 year old son, William, are leaning into their creator and surrendering the outcome to God. By putting this in God's hands, Jordan can hold Bill's hand in one and little Will's in the other.
To know Bill Newman means you share something in common with all who love him: you were laughing within the first 5 minutes of meeting him. You see, Bill is a walking, talking comic strip, complete with the WHABAM! and BABOW! sound effects as he describes something trivial like a new podcast he heard while mowing last Friday. He's animated and larger than life over the mere thought of helping you move a couch down a winding staircase, or in my "How I Met Bill" story, car trouble.
What I learned about Bill in the first 5 minutes of knowing him will be cradled as my view of him forever. He's a family man, wildly crazy about his boy and wife. He'll stand in the pouring rain to help a stranger. You will feel like family when you walk away. May 17th, 2017, is better known as "Friendversary." It was hot out that day, so I rolled the windows down to cool my baby off in the back seat, and by the time I reached the front of the neighborhood, my car was dying. Though close to home, I was panicked. My own husband was away for work, and I had few resources to get this hunk of metal out of the road and calm my crying infant. To make things worse, here came the rain, a downpour into my open windows and on our heads. But with that, came Bill.
He popped out of his truck like it was his purpose, with his own little kid stringing behind him with a stick sword. His long arms waving comforts at me of, "I've got this." He put out his hand for a quick shake and tossed a jacket over my baby's head. "Could've picked a better day for this, right?" he said with his charm and a chuckle. "Yeah, as if we can control disaster," I started to say, but he interrupted me with boisterous vocals from a rock song about rain. I busted out in a belly laugh, and we got to work wrapping my car in tarps.
His son, Will, was skirting around with blue painter's tape as a ninja head band and wrist bands. Wielding a stick and thrashing around as a smaller version of Bill's spirit, he lunged at imaginary villains in the rain and asked how much longer it would be. In fact, it was longer—long enough for him to send me down to his house to meet his wife. He promised she had wine, so I was there. She opened the door and greeted me with the warmest sunflower face, and yes, we were instant besties.
Realizing we couldn't fix the car until the next day, the only thing to do was lean ladders up against the dividing fence of our serendipitous backyards, and climb over. Baby on one hip and wine bottle on the other. This was the start of what will be a life-long friendship of knowing just who to call for help or cheering up.
Bill Newman is a provider, working full-time in sales and as a part-time roadie on the weekends for a local band, SKYROCKET. He always puts his family's needs first: bills, good food, and after-school activities for his boy. At this time, Jordan is making the hard choices of what to financially cut and worrying about how to take on all of this on her own. The last thing we want her to be worried about is the weight of bills. So, please, help us in keeping her hands full of Bill's hand, instead of the burden of bills. Every bit helps.
To know Bill Newman means you share something in common with all who love him: you were laughing within the first 5 minutes of meeting him. You see, Bill is a walking, talking comic strip, complete with the WHABAM! and BABOW! sound effects as he describes something trivial like a new podcast he heard while mowing last Friday. He's animated and larger than life over the mere thought of helping you move a couch down a winding staircase, or in my "How I Met Bill" story, car trouble.
What I learned about Bill in the first 5 minutes of knowing him will be cradled as my view of him forever. He's a family man, wildly crazy about his boy and wife. He'll stand in the pouring rain to help a stranger. You will feel like family when you walk away. May 17th, 2017, is better known as "Friendversary." It was hot out that day, so I rolled the windows down to cool my baby off in the back seat, and by the time I reached the front of the neighborhood, my car was dying. Though close to home, I was panicked. My own husband was away for work, and I had few resources to get this hunk of metal out of the road and calm my crying infant. To make things worse, here came the rain, a downpour into my open windows and on our heads. But with that, came Bill.
He popped out of his truck like it was his purpose, with his own little kid stringing behind him with a stick sword. His long arms waving comforts at me of, "I've got this." He put out his hand for a quick shake and tossed a jacket over my baby's head. "Could've picked a better day for this, right?" he said with his charm and a chuckle. "Yeah, as if we can control disaster," I started to say, but he interrupted me with boisterous vocals from a rock song about rain. I busted out in a belly laugh, and we got to work wrapping my car in tarps.
His son, Will, was skirting around with blue painter's tape as a ninja head band and wrist bands. Wielding a stick and thrashing around as a smaller version of Bill's spirit, he lunged at imaginary villains in the rain and asked how much longer it would be. In fact, it was longer—long enough for him to send me down to his house to meet his wife. He promised she had wine, so I was there. She opened the door and greeted me with the warmest sunflower face, and yes, we were instant besties.
Realizing we couldn't fix the car until the next day, the only thing to do was lean ladders up against the dividing fence of our serendipitous backyards, and climb over. Baby on one hip and wine bottle on the other. This was the start of what will be a life-long friendship of knowing just who to call for help or cheering up.
Bill Newman is a provider, working full-time in sales and as a part-time roadie on the weekends for a local band, SKYROCKET. He always puts his family's needs first: bills, good food, and after-school activities for his boy. At this time, Jordan is making the hard choices of what to financially cut and worrying about how to take on all of this on her own. The last thing we want her to be worried about is the weight of bills. So, please, help us in keeping her hands full of Bill's hand, instead of the burden of bills. Every bit helps.