Preparing to Lead: Lessons from the Studio
Or how an artist somehow ended up talking about leadership

If you had told me years ago that I’d be invited to speak to a leadership class, I probably would have nodded politely… then gone right back to mixing paint. I’ve always thought of myself as an artist—someone who worries more about color, light, and whether a painting is finished than whether I qualify as a “leader.”

And yet, here I am this week, preparing to talk about leadership.

Which made me laugh—and then reflect—on how often the studio has quietly been teaching me lessons I didn’t realize I’d ever need outside of it.

I didn’t prepare for this moment by reading leadership manuals or chasing titles. I prepared the only way I know how: by showing up. By working. By making mistakes. And by learning—sometimes the hard way—what happens when you try to use what you’ve been given with a little care and intention.

Awareness: Figuring Out What You’ve Got
Every artist eventually comes face to face with their gifts and their limitations—usually at the same time. For me, that awareness didn’t arrive with trumpets. It crept in slowly, somewhere between unfinished canvases and paintings that surprised me.

At some point, I realized that my work could do more than hang on a wall. It could tell stories. Spark reflection. Even help support causes I cared about. That awareness didn’t come from asking, What do I want to be? It came from asking, What’s already in front of me?

Resourcefulness: Making Do with What’s on Hand
Anyone who’s spent time in a studio knows this truth: inspiration has terrible timing. You work with the light you have, the tools you own, and whatever ideas decide to show up that day.

Over the years, I learned that the same is true in life. Waiting for perfect conditions usually means waiting forever. Preparation often looks like using what’s already within reach—and trusting that it’s enough to get started.

Timing: Knowing When to Step In
Painting teaches patience, but it also teaches commitment. There’s a moment when you have to stop circling the canvas and make a move. Too soon, and you rush it. Too late, and the energy disappears.

Being asked to speak this week didn’t happen overnight. It grew out of years of showing up, doing the work, and not always knowing where it might lead. Preparation, it turns out, has a way of revealing itself only when opportunity knocks.

As I think about standing in front of that leadership class, I’m reminded that preparation rarely looks impressive while it’s happening. It’s shaped in ordinary days—brushstroke by brushstroke—long before anyone labels it as leadership.

And maybe that’s the real takeaway.

So here’s a question I’ll leave you with, from one person figuring it out as he goes:

What might you be quietly preparing for—without even realizing it yet?

Growth Requires the Courage to Be an Amateur Again
What the studio continues to teach me about discipline and discovery

Not long ago, I found myself sitting in the studio surrounded by two very different works in progress. One was a painting of ”Roberts Hall” at High Point University—architectural, detailed, demanding absolute accuracy. Every window mattered. Every shadow had to earn its place. Across it was a contemporary piece—looser, expressive, open to interpretation, free to wander.
What struck me wasn’t the contrast in style, but the mindset each required. One demanded precision and patience. The other demanded trust and courage. The painting of High Point University is in my wheelhouse. Something that I’m known for; the ability to capture intricate architectural subjects come naturally to me.  On the other hand the contemporary painting “Under the Wire” required me to step outside of my comfort zone, experiment and trust the direction making me feel like an amateur again.

And that’s when I was reminded of a simple truth we all know but often avoid: everyone that masters their craft, their livelihood once began as an amateur.

Three Short Takeaways

Growth Begins Where Comfort Ends
When you stretch into unfamiliar territory, confidence gives way to curiosity and imagination. That’s not weakness—it’s the starting line.

Discipline Beats Inspiration
Showing up daily matters more than getting it right. Improvement hides in repetition, not perfection. It’s the ability of taking risk, trying a new approach, a new perspective.

Variety Sharpens Vision
Working between structure and freedom—detail and abstraction—has made me more thoughtful, intentional, and present as an artist.  We all have the opportunity to take on our work in a new way, not making it wrote but enlightening and learning by experimenting.

Trying something new will often make you feel unpolished, uncertain, even exposed. That’s the cost of learning—and it’s a fair price. When the work matters to you, you stay with it long enough for clarity to emerge. You work through the early awkwardness. You let the process shape you as much as the outcome.

Looking back, I don’t regret a single moment spent pushing into unfamiliar territory. Even the pieces that didn’t land taught me something essential. Growth rarely looks graceful in the moment—but it always looks honest in hindsight.

So here’s the question I’ll leave you with:

What are you willing to be an amateur at?

Goals, Not Resolutions: A Better Way Forward for the New Year

It was an ordinary morning at the gym—one of those casual conversations that start between sets and end up staying with you all day. My longtime friend Jim Burkett, someone I’ve worked alongside for years as a volunteer, asked a simple question most of us hear this time of year: “So, do you have any New Year’s resolutions?”

Without hesitation, I smiled and said, “No—and I learned a long time ago not to.” Not because I don’t believe in improvement, but because I repeatedly failed at resolutions. To me, they felt too matter-of-fact: either you do them… or you don’t. What did stick, what did work, was something deeper—goal setting. And as I’ve been revisiting a lesson from motivational speaker Jim Rohn—alongside insights echoed by coach Nick Saban—the difference between the two has never felt clearer.

Three Solid Takeaways

Resolutions Rely on Emotion. Goals Rely on Intention.
Resolutions often ride the wave of January motivation. Goals, on the other hand, are built with intention, clarity, and follow-through. Jim Rohn taught that goals aren’t about a date on the calendar—they’re about deciding who you’re willing to become. That distinction matters. Emotion fades. Intention endures.

Goals Give Direction—Not Just Desire.
Coach Saban has long emphasized process over promises. You don’t win championships by declaring intentions—you win by committing to daily disciplines. Goals create direction. They allow us to measure progress, recalibrate when needed, and stay engaged long after the excitement of a “fresh start” wears off.

Faith Is the Foundation Beneath the Goal.
Jim Burkett recently shared a moment that stopped me in my tracks. He was with his grandson on a northern property he owns, facing a freshly cut dirt road—steep and uncertain. Jim told his grandson there was less than a 30% chance they’d make it to the top. As he prepared to accelerate, his grandson quietly asked, “Do you think we should pray?”

That simple question said everything. Because if we don’t sprinkle our goals with faith—what foundation are we really building on? They prayed. They made it up the mountain. And a powerful lesson was passed from one generation to the next.

That moment reminded me that goals aren’t just about achievement—they’re about trust, humility, and believing there’s something greater guiding our steps. Resolutions may start strong, but goals—anchored in purpose, discipline, and faith—are what carry us forward when the road gets steep.

As this new year unfolds, my hope for you is simple: may you set goals that stretch you, sustain you, and steady you—and may faith be the quiet strength beneath every climb.

Wishing you the warmest blessings this season, and may all your goals come to fruition in the year ahead.    Bill

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