A Brighter Tomorrow Starts with How You See Today

Most mornings begin the same way for me. Reading some inspiration to spark the mind, a steady rhythm on the treadmill, the quiet hum of the day slowly waking up. But this morning—just as I stepped off the treadmill—I noticed something that stopped me in my tracks.

Beyond the gym windows, the horizon was alive. Bare winter trees stood stark and honest against the sky, clouds rolling by like heavy thoughts we all carry from time to time. And then, almost unexpectedly, the sun began to break through. Not all at once—but in fleeting, golden glimpses. Rays of light slipped through the clouds, illuminating their edges and transforming what felt heavy into something quietly magnificent.

In that moment, my attitude shifted. Nothing in my schedule changed. Nothing in the world suddenly resolved itself. 
But my perspective did—and that made all the difference.

Three Reflections from a Winter Sunrise

Perspective Shapes the Day Before It Begins
The trees were still bare. The clouds were still present. Yet the light reframed everything I was seeing. Life often works the same way. Circumstances don’t always change overnight—but how we choose to see them can. Perspective isn’t about ignoring reality; it’s about noticing where the light still exists.

Light Doesn’t Compete with Darkness—it Overcomes It
The clouds didn’t vanish, but they couldn’t stop the sun. Even a small break in the sky was enough to shift the entire scene. In difficult seasons—personally, professionally, or emotionally—it’s often the smallest moments of goodness that carry the greatest power.

Gratitude Is a Practice, Not a Reaction
I felt thankful—not because everything was perfect, but because I noticed something beautiful unfolding in real time. Gratitude isn’t reserved for easy days. It’s something we cultivate, especially when days feel heavy or uncertain.

As we approach the holidays, emotions can run wide and deep. For some, this season is filled with laughter, family, and celebration. For others, it carries reminders of loss, hardship, or quiet loneliness. And often, it’s a mix of both. That winter sunrise reminded me of something essential: even when clouds gather, the light still shows up.

The promise of a brighter tomorrow isn’t wishful thinking—it’s a choice we make in how we respond, how we show up, and how we shine, even when the sky feels overcast.

So as this season unfolds, may you notice the light where you didn’t expect it. May you carry hope where it’s needed most. And may you trust that no matter how today looks, tomorrow still holds possibility.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and warm holiday wishes to you and those you love—however you choose to celebrate.  Bill

When Life Unravels—and You Learn to Laugh Anyway: A Holiday Lesson from Man vs Baby

Winter has a way of slowing things down. The days grow shorter, the evenings longer, and there’s comfort in settling in with a good movie or series. One evening not long ago, Cynthia and I stumbled upon a short Netflix series called Man vs Baby. What began as mild curiosity quickly turned into genuine amusement. Before we knew it, we had watched all four episodes—just two hours total—back to back, laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all.

What surprised us wasn’t just how entertaining it was, but how quietly meaningful it became. Beneath the chaos and humor was a simple story of perseverance—no complaining, no grumbling, just one man handling whatever came his way as best he could. In many ways, it felt like a gentle reflection of life itself.

It starts innocently enough: one man, one baby, one quiet house—and then everything unravels. What makes Man vs Baby so delightful isn’t the chaos, but the creativity that follows. When diapers run out, scarves step in. When the dog swallows the key fob, the solution isn’t panic—it’s improvisation, even using the dog as a moving access pass to the elevator. You can’t help but laugh, because you’ve been there—maybe not literally, but metaphorically.

What struck me most wasn’t the humor, though that’s plentiful. It was the spirit behind it all. No meltdown. No blame. Just a quiet resolve to handle whatever comes next, even when “next” makes absolutely no sense. And somewhere between the laughter and the mayhem, I found myself thinking about how often life asks the same of us—especially during the holidays.

Three Poignant Lessons Worth Carrying Into the Holidays

1. Attitude Is the Quiet Hero
The main character never claims to have things under control—he just chooses to respond rather than react. That steady posture mirrors real life. Especially during the holidays, when stress can quietly creep in, our attitude becomes the difference between frustration and peace.

2. Perseverance Doesn’t Need Applause
There’s no audience cheering him on, yet he persists. Most of life’s meaningful moments happen the same way—unnoticed, uncelebrated, but deeply formative. Simply staying the course often matters more than dramatic wins.

3. Grace Changes the Outcome
What could have turned into resentment becomes compassion. Grace softens the sharp edges. Forgiveness resets the moment. Love—quiet, patient love—becomes the true solution. These are not just seasonal virtues; they’re survival skills.

As I reflect on my own life, especially during seasons that felt overwhelming or uncertain, it’s often been grace, forgiveness, and love that carried me through—not control. Those are the secret ingredients our Lord placed within reach of all of us. They don’t eliminate the mess, but they change how we move through it.

And maybe that’s the quiet gift of this season: a reminder that we don’t have to have it all figured out. We just need to keep showing up with a good heart, a flexible spirit, and a little humor when things don’t go as planned.

Here is a preview link to Man Vs Baby, I believe you will love it:  https://youtu.be/zHhR3daI3bY?si=Psww06gtL8blqz25

 A Life That Lifted Others: Honoring My Friend Tim Kent

On a cold morning years ago, before the sun had the nerve to rise, I found myself standing shoulder to shoulder with a small group of high-school volunteers at Greensboro Urban Ministry’s shelter. Among them was a young girl named Emily—bright-eyed, kind, eager to volunteer and help. She belonged there. It was her world. What I didn’t know then was that in a few short weeks, she would introduce me to someone who would become one of the most meaningful friendships of my life: her father, Tim Kent.

Tim didn’t slip into that kitchen quietly. He arrived with sleeves rolled, spirit ready, and a heart that recognized the sacred weight of showing up for people who felt forgotten. That was Tim—one foot in the halls of power, the other planted firmly among those who simply needed a warm plate and a human smile.
It didn’t take long before our bond was sealed, forged not by circumstance but by service… and strengthened through the curveballs life would later throw at him.

Three Reflections on a Life That Raised the Bar

1. He Showed Us What True Leadership Looks Like

In roles spanning the NC Association of REALTORS®, the Beer and Wine Wholesalers, and even earlier as a broadcaster, Tim had a remarkable gift: he could bring people together—people who disagreed, people who felt unheard, people who needed direction. He helped build consensus where it didn’t exist. That’s leadership at its rarest form.

Tim lived a life that touched two very different worlds. One day he was navigating complicated legislation, guiding our state through the friction of competing visions. The next, he was in a shelter kitchen flipping eggs for men who carried everything they owned in a backpack.
And he made both spaces feel seen.

2. He Carried the Weight of Others Quietly and Faithfully

Life does not spare any of us its unexpected turns. Tim knew seasons of loss—job uncertainty, divorce, personal questions that shake your footing. But in those valleys, our friendship deepened. His faith strengthened. His compassion widened.

Tim never let hardship harden him. In fact, it softened the edges and shaped the man he ultimately became. He cared for strangers with a dignity that lifted them. He protected and cherished his family with devotion—especially his wife Andra, whose partnership brought him immeasurable joy. He even welcomed his mother-in-law into his own home, caring for her with the same steady kindness he offered to the world.

3. He Lived the A.R.T. of Life: Awareness, Resourcefulness, Timing

Tim embodied the very principles I try to teach today.
Awareness—his eyes were always open to who was hurting, who needed a hand, or who simply needed to be heard.
Resourcefulness—if he saw a need, he found a way to connect people who could meet it.
Timing—he had a rare intuition for the moment to step forward, to speak up, to lead. And when that moment came, he moved—not with bravado, but with conviction.

These weren’t skills he used to elevate himself. They were gifts he used to elevate others.

Closing Reflection

Last week, Tim was posthumously awarded The Order of the Long Leaf Pine, North Carolina’s highest civilian honor. As Hal Mast spoke about Tim’s heart and influence, a swell of pride and sadness washed over the room. It was a moment that felt both fitting and bittersweet.

What struck me most wasn’t the award itself—it was the reminder that legacies aren’t built in grand gestures. They’re built in kitchens before sunrise, in boardrooms where bridges are needed, in quiet conversations between friends navigating storms.

Tim Kent lived a life that mattered. A life that lifted.
A life that—quite simply—made North Carolina better.

Though I miss him deeply, I remain profoundly grateful that our paths crossed. His friendship shaped me. His example sharpened me. And his legacy reminds me, even now, that life is shorter than we imagine… and far more meaningful when spent helping others stand a little taller.

Well done, my friend. You made a difference.

 Steven, Emily, Andra and Michael Kent

 “Awareness: The First Step Toward Making a Difference”

When my granddaughter asked for help with her psychology project, she hesitated—not because she didn’t understand the material, but because she feared the blank page. Together we built an illustration showing two realities: students stepping into college carrying silent, heavy thoughts… and the same students after learning the language of mental health, suddenly able to understand themselves—and help others. 
As we worked, her confidence grew, and by the time we finished, so did her smile. Watching her push through that fear reminded me how often we underestimate the inner battles others face. It also reminded me that the very first brushstroke of The ART of Making a Difference—Awareness—is more powerful than we realize.

Three Points Worth Sharing

Awareness Helps Us See What Isn’t Said
Most people walk into a room carrying far more than we will ever know. When we slow down long enough to look beyond the surface—really look—we begin to notice the weight someone might be holding. Awareness turns assumptions into understanding.

A Little Empathy Can Change Someone’s Day
We often think helping others requires grand gestures. More often, it’s something small: a listening ear, a reassuring word, or simply giving someone space to speak. Empathy doesn’t erase problems, but it softens the ground beneath someone’s feet.

Understanding Leads to Purposeful Action
Once we become aware of another’s challenges, we can act with intention—not guessing, not assuming, but responding in a way that lifts rather than burdens. This is where awareness transforms into impact.

Closing Thought

This holiday season, I’m making a point to slow down and imagine what another person might be navigating, even if they never say a word. 
Awareness is more than a skill—it’s a gift we give to others, and a reminder that kindness often begins long before we ever open our mouths. Sometimes the smallest gesture becomes the very thing someone needed most.

Out in the Field: A Season of Gratitude and Grace

It’s funny how a simple outing can remind you of the path you’ve walked. At the Farmers Market last weekend, a woman stepped toward my table wearing a small pin that said, “Make America Kind Again.” Before we exchanged a word, that message set the tone for the morning. Moments later, another visitor told me she remembered standing in line with her mother at my studio decades ago, waiting patiently for my annual print giveaway. And then, at Fleet-Plummer, longtime friend Steve Hassenfelt walked up, asked about the Honor Card, listened, and quietly made a generous donation—no card, no print, no fanfare. Just kindness.

Those encounters reminded me that after thirty-eight years, this small $5 gesture still meets people exactly where they are. Whether at a bustling market, a beautiful gift shop, or a community garden club, I continue to be humbled by the people who step forward—not for the art, but for the mission behind it. And none of it happens alone. Cheryl Brandberg and Melinda Billings from CHS, along with my talented associate Joy Ross, make these events possible. They stand beside me, carrying the mission with the same heart I’ve poured into it since 1988.

Three Reflections From the Road

1. The Greatest Generosity Often Comes From the Least Expected

Some friends greet me warmly and move along. Others—quiet, unassuming—reach into their pocket to buy a card I’m not even sure they can afford. That spirit moves me every single time.

2. The Stories Run Deeper Than I Realize

When someone tells me they once stood in line with their mother to get a print from my studio, it sends a wave of gratitude through me. This program has touched generations—far beyond anything I imagined.

3. Kindness Still Leads the Way

A woman handing me a kindness pin… a donor who gives anonymously… a neighbor offering $5 because “every bit helps.” These are the reminders that goodness is still alive and well—and it shows up in the smallest gestures.

A Grateful Takeaway

For 38 years, I’ve simply tried to scatter the seeds of an opportunity—one $5 Honor Card at a time. The price has never changed. The heart behind it hasn’t either. I’m merely a voice, and the good Lord’s hand has been on this effort from the beginning. To see it continue—year after year, generation after generation—is something I never take for granted.