I posed the question.“Bill,do you have MS or something like that?”I asked.“I have cerebral palsy,”he answered matter-of-factly.I think he knew I was nervous talking about it.“But...what does that mean?How did you get it?Will it get worse?”“The doctor’s forceps damaged my brain at my birth.My condition will never get any worse.But it won’t get any better,either.It doesn’t stop me from accomplishing whatever I set my mind to.”Bill’s optimism amazed me,especially in contrast to my own tendency toward pessimism.He gave credits to his parents,who taught him a strong faith.They fought to get him into public school;after he graduated,his father told him,“Get a job.”He wasn’t being harsh.It’s just that they’d never coddled Bill;instead,they had always insisted he could do anything he set his mind to and they never let him give up.Bill got an interview with Watkins Incorporated,a company whose salesmen peddle home remedies and spices door to door.Bill told the director,“Selling is in my blood.It almost doesn’t matter what the product is,as long as I believe in it.Give me a chance and you’ll see.”
The director gave Bill a job on a trial basis.He knocked on door after door and heard no after no.Then Bill started making sales.He walked his route eight hours a day,or more,and became the company’s top salesman in the entire Northwest.It wasn’t easy.Every morning,Bill’s alarm went off at 4:45 a.m.His bus downtown left at 7:20 a.m.Bill needed all that time because he doesn’t like to dress in a rush.“Appearance is essential,”he said.Each morning he put on clean socks,pressed trousers and fresh white shirt.He would leave his cuffs unbuttoned,his wingtips loosely tied,and his tie in the briefcase.Some friends at a hotel near where he made a bus transfer attended to those loose ends.Bill would hit the streets,knocking on every single door,telling himself,“The next customer will say yes.”The key is,Bill believes they’ll all say yes eventually.I kept working for Bill even after I had a few more children.John was making more money,but I continued to scrimp and save.Honestly,it had become a compulsion
.I still went through life with a sense of foreboding.Faith was still an insurance policy against disaster rather than a way to meet life head-on.Bill used his faith every day,getting out of bed and expecting the best.Would I ever look at life that way?Even my husband was frustrated with me.One weekend John wanted to go to a movie.“We can catch the seven o’clock show.”“Honey,can’t we go to the matinee?”I asked,“It’s cheaper.”“We can afford it.”He was right,but I couldn’t stop worrying about money and the future.It all stemmed from my childhood,and I’d never be able to overcome that.One winter day a storm was forecast for Portland.Of course to Bill the weather report was good news.“Perfect for a door-to-door salesman,”he said,“Everyone’s at home!”So he bundled up and made his rounds until he had made his quota.But then,the buses had stopped running because the roads were so bad.He had to hitchhike home,only to discover the steep driveway leading to his front door was a sheet of ice.He tried to get up it again and again,but kept falling down.Finally he got down on his hands and knees and crawled to the front door thoroughly satisfied with his day’s work.He told me about it the next morning.It was as if the cumulative affect of working with Bill and his optimism sank in.I wanted to stop worrying about life and start enjoying it.It’s been 20 years now that I’ve worked for Bill.Once in a while those old worries start in on me.It is then I think about my friend Bill crawling up his icy driveway.I hear him saying,“There are no obstacles,Shelly.Only challenges.”When I follow his example,I’m able to let go and feel free.Yes,Bill Porter’s finally got me looking forward to the opportunities God opens for us,one door at a time.And these days when my family goes to the movies we see the fullpriced show and splurge on popcorn.
