We met Billy in Budingen, Germany in 1992. There were castles, beer, the shepherd, and Billy. That’s how I remember Germany. It all started with a rugby game. At least I think it started with rugby. . .

We were in our early twenties and all of us a bit homesick for the United States when rugby season began. I would pack a cooler of juice for Cami and water for me and the boys and we’d sit in the bleachers off by ourselves watching the game. I don’t remember any other children at the rugby games. Lots of lonely, young soldiers, but no wives or kids that I can recall.

Billy became Cami’s first babysitter. I don’t remember exactly how, but Scott was stationed in a cavalry unit in Budingen, which was all men in those days. Scott and I were desperate for some alone time and Billy was more than happy to sit with Cami while we went to dinner down in our castle town.

We’d come home and there would be Billy and Cami eating mac and cheese together from the same fork and drinking beer out of Billy’s big beer bottle.

“Please don’t give my baby beer,” I told Billy. “You need to heat up a bottle of milk for her.”

“I don’t give her much,” said Billy with his blazing smile. “Cami and I keep it low key around here.”

Low key for Billy was just a few beers and no bar brawls. One night we found a German girl to babysit for us and Billy took us out on the town to show us his world. Pretty soon Billy was standing on a picnic table, roaring like a lion, trying to fight a band of German biker dudes. Billy was a big strong guy, but so were these bikers and they wore long knives on their belts. Fortunately, the bikers were older and wiser than us, and when I explained to them Billy had had too much to drink, that normally he was a really nice guy, in fact our babysitter who took tender care of our baby girl, the bikers backed down and let us take Billy home without a brawl.

“We have a baby to raise,” I told Billy that night. “You can’t be getting my husband killed by a gang of bikers.”

Billy laughed and promised me he’d never do that again. And he never did.

The rugby players drank a lot of beer, ate a lot of food, and horsed around all the time in our apartment on post. I see now how God was preparing me to raise five boys later in life, but at the time, learning to cook for these guys was easy and fun because they happily ate and appreciated everything. Our toddler Cami loved her rugby boys, especially Billy.

“Please don’t break anything,” I used to tell these young soldiers who became our dear friends, and I was always warning them to wear their safety belts and wear their condoms and please don’t hurt each other in our living room.

One day Billy came over and flashed his mega watt smile for me and I nearly cried. He’d broken his two front teeth running down the barracks hall the night before, having had too much to drink with his soldier buddies.

By the following Sunday morning, Billy joined me in church for the first time. His teeth were fixed and he sat quietly beside me in the pew while the Catholic priest recited mass. I’d been after Billy for awhile to go to church with me after finding out he was raised Catholic like me.

“I really needed that,” he said when we walked out of church together into the sweet German sunshine. Germany is full of cold, gray days, but I remember that day was beautiful and both Billy and I felt the presence of God on that brilliant morning.

Scott was a helicopter pilot at the time and was often deployed from the post when Billy wasn’t. Billy would carry my groceries up to our fourth floor apartment in a cinder block building and play with Cami while I put things away. He often dropped by just to hold Cami and let me go for a walk alone or he would take Cami for a walk while I worked on my book. Sometimes I would drive down to the country castle to see the shepherd watching over his sheep.

“You really like that old shepherd,” Billy said on a serious note one day.

“I really do. I don’t know why, but that shepherd really comforts me.” I took a picture of the shepherd and hung it on my wall in our apartment. Billy really liked that picture too. Obviously, the Good Shepherd was after us even then, we just didn’t know it yet.

When Scott was back on post, we all worked out together, lifting weights at the gym and taking turns holding Cami while we all did our exercises.  I’ve never been in that kind of shape since then. When I found myself pregnant after Scott and I, along with Cami, took a romantic trip to Italy, I was so bummed. That was the end of my lifting weights with the rugby boys.

When we left Germany in 1993, Billy wasn’t about to say goodbye forever. He stayed in touch and even came out to visit us in California after our second child, Lacy was born. We took him to our California ocean and both he and I got sunburned on the beach.

The years rolled by and each Christmas we got Billy’s card and he received ours. Sometimes he’d call us out of the blue and we’d talk about him flying out for another visit, but it never happened. A few years ago, Billy called to say he’d been diagnosed with cancer. I had too, mine was melanoma, Billy’s colon cancer. We spent a long time on the phone talking about old times and then we talked about Jesus. And forgiveness.

We both admitted how much we needed our Savior in our sickness. A few months later, we spoke again, I’d been deemed cancer free and Billy assured us his cancer was under control. “I’m gonna be fine,” he said confidently. “I know you are,” I answered. “You’ve got Jesus.” We followed each other on Facebook and I knew Billy went on to fight the good fight against this new enemy in his life.

In May, my first book was published, and I posted a picture on Facebook of myself holding my novel. That night as we were leaving our Bible study at church, Billy called me. When I saw his name pop up on my phone, my heart stopped. It never occurred to me he was calling about the book. I was afraid he was calling to say things weren’t going well with his cancer.

“Are you okay,” I asked anxiously when I heard his voice. Billy laughed softly and said, “Ya.” Then he said, “I wanted to congratulate you, Paula. Your dream of becoming a novelist finally came true.”

We talked about my book for awhile, Billy reminding me how I’d worked so hard on the first draft of the novel in Germany all those years ago. “I’m gonna read it,” Billy said proudly and I could see his big smile in my mind’s eye. Nobody had a smile like Billy’s.

“It’s a girl’s book,” I told him. “A historical romance, Billy.”

“I’m gonna read it,” he insisted, laughing.

“Okay,” I said laughing too. “Billy, how are you doing? Your phone call scared me.”

“I’ve got six months to live,” he softly admitted, and I could hardly breathe.

Scott was driving while I spoke with Billy as we headed down a dark highway. He’s got six months, I mouthed to Scott, and the tears streamed down my cheeks.  ”

I’m gonna be okay,” Billy said.

“I know you are. You’ve got Jesus.”

Soon I was really crying, didn’t want Billy to know it, and handed the phone to Scott. Billy has always adored my husband and even named his son’s middle name “Scott” after Scott. Pretty soon Billy and Scott formed a plan for Billy to fly out in July and have Scott baptize Billy in Lake Tahoe. We were all so happy. How a bunch of sinners like us got saved made us all laugh and smile and thank our lucky stars for our Savior’s amazing grace.

About two weeks ago, I woke early one Sunday morning from a bad dream. I dreamed Billy had called and I could barely hear his voice it was so weak. In the dream, I kept saying, “Billy, is this you? I can’t hear you? Billy are you there? I can’t hear you…”

I woke up from the dream distraught. Before dawn, I walked down the hall to our living room and sat in my favorite chair with my Bible. Praying for Billy. Praying for us. How I hoped Billy would be strong enough to fly out and be baptized in Lake Tahoe. I imagined the beautiful scene and was filled with such hope.

Later that morning, we went to church. After church, driving home, my phone rang. When I saw Billy’s name on my phone, fear washed over me. “Hello, Billy,” I said. Billy responded and I could hardly hear him. My dream was coming true.

Billy was so weak, he had a hard time speaking. I talked to him for a few minutes, then handed the phone to Scott. He and Billy came up with a new plan. Scott would be in Ohio for a wedding in June. Somehow they would meet Saturday night and stay in the same hotel. Sunday morning before Scott flew home, they would find a lake and baptize Billy. “Just think, Billy, you’re going to see our Savior face to face soon. I can’t believe it. I cant believe you’re getting there before me. You always were a good soldier.”

Today I saw on Facebook Billy got there first. The post of Billy’s passing hit me hard. All I could think was, Lake Tahoe would have been amazing. Scott baptizing Billy would have been so amazing. I would have taken pictures of these boys turned to men, these sinners turned to saints, and Billy would have smiled his beaming smile after being baptized in Lake Tahoe.

Why not God?

Trust me, heaven’s far better than Lake Tahoe, the whisper came to me, and the hope in me was fierce.

Billy loved this picture of Scott flying a helicopter over Germany. It reminds me of Billy flying home to heaven.