Billy Coffey
Billy Coffey

Allison

January 11, 2009  

I was tagged last week by Sarah and had to come up with six random or weird things about myself. Some were both random and weird (glad to know that I’m not alone in my fear of clowns). My mentioning of the girl whose life I saved drew much more response via comments and emails than I thought it would. A few of you suggested that I expound upon that a little. So I will, with a little background…

I had everything figured out at seventeen. My future was planned, crystal clear and meant to be. I was the starting second baseman on my high school team, had already gotten letters from several colleges and had been scouted by the Milwaukee Brewers.

I was going to play baseball forever. I had to. Because the person who roamed the halls of Stuarts Draft High School and drove his truck around town wasn’t me. Not the real me. No, the real me was the guy on the ball field. It was the only place where I ever really felt I belonged.

School was an irritant. Most high school seniors try to stretch that last year out as far as they can, enjoying every moment. Not me. I wanted out. I had a life to get living.

Not that high school was hard. I had the prototypical jock schedule of classes–Math, History, English Composition, and four study halls. Brutal. Then one day Mrs. Houser, my English Composition teacher, decided that I needed to do something, so she pulled some strings and got me a job: writing a weekly column for the local newspaper. Write about anything, she said. Just make it good.

Oh. Joy.

I obliged, partly because I had to but mostly because Mrs. Houser was my favorite teacher. Every Tuesday evening I would sit down with a pad of paper and watch reruns of Gilligan’s Island, writing during commercials. It was busy work. Something to pass the time. Nothing more.

Then my world fell apart.

We were playing at Fort Defiance High School when someone hit a ground ball to my right. I backhanded it and threw off balance to first base for the out.

And my shoulder exploded.

Four trips to doctors and specialists resulted in a shared consensus: I would never played again.

It’s tough being seventeen and knowing that every dream you ever had was gone. Tough knowing that your entire life lay in front of you, just not the life you wanted. Tough.

Too tough.

So one night I got in my truck, drove into the mountains, and found the highest rock I could so I could jump off.

Almost did it, too. I got to two and a half on my count to three when a voice popped into my head and said, “You’re really not afraid of dying, are you?”

No. Not at all.

Then you’re afraid of living.

Whether that voice was God’s or my own still escapes me. But I sat for a long while on that rock, thinking. Then I got back into my truck, drove home, and wrote my column. Really wrote. About how things sometimes don’t turn out the way they’re supposed to and how sometimes life can be more night than day. And how, in the end, we have to keep on. We just have to. That was the night I learned to strip myself bare on the page, to risk exposing fears and worries and doubts. To quit pretending I was someone I wasn’t. It was the biggest act of courage I think I ever displayed.

Three days later, a letter was sent to the high school with my name on the front. Thank you, it said. “I’m having a really tough time right now, and a few days ago I thought I just couldn’t take anymore. I was going to end it. Then I read your article and, well, I’m still here. So thank you. You rescued me.“

It wasn’t signed, and there was no return address on the envelope. I didn’t know who sent it, but I did know this: God didn’t want me to play baseball. He wanted me to write.

***

At the mall, a month later. I was picking my girlfriend up from work and decided to walk to the bookstore. Approaching me was a teenage girl in jeans and a leather jacket. I nodded as she passed, and then she called my name.

“Allison,” she said. “My name’s Allison. I’m the one who wrote you that letter.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what she wanted me to say. So I asked her if she was all right, to which she replied that she was, to which I replied that it was nice to meet her. I was so shy, so backward, so unnerved, that I simply nodded again and walked away.

I have had many bad moments in my life. That one? Top three.

I never saw Allison again. I do, however, still spend many a day wishing that I would have. Just one more time. Just to tell her I was sorry for not saying more. To tell her to keep hanging in there and that she’s not alone.

And to tell her that she rescued me, too.

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Filed under: doubt, faith, living, purpose, regrets, trials
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Comments

  • Jack Brown

    Thanks for posting….be encouraged

  • Travis

    No, YOU are aweseome!

    It takes a lot of courage to admit a perceived failure. It takes a lot of courage to share it with others. It takes a lot of courage to follow God’s path when your heart wants to go a different direction.

    You are my hero.

  • Sockrma18

    Wow.

    And just so you know….through your writing, you’ve touched a thousand Allisons. You’ve said enough in this blog that more than make up for not saying enough (in your mind) to Allison that day. God works things out for our good and for the good of those around us so have no fear….you’ve truly touched a thousand Allisons, Billy.

    You rock. :0)

  • lynnrush

    Thanks for posting this, Billy. Amazing. It never ceases to amaze me how God can take us from our depts of dispair and turn it into HIS WILL?

    He allows us to go through what we do to glorify HIM. You did so by listening to HIS voice up on that rock (Yes, it was HIS voice).

    I’m glad you did, brother.

  • sharilyn

    though i know it was so much your desire and love to play ball, i, for one, am glad you’re writing instead! God does work things out in, shall we say, “interesting”? ways…

  • Jennifer

    I like the way ’sockrma’ puts it. Truly, Billy, there are other Allisons in the world who are touched by your writing.

    On a side note, your story here in a way reminds me of Jacob wrestling with God. Jacob ended up with a wrenched hip, which surely was a constant reminder of his walk with God.

    Jacob was renamed Israel after the encounter. What is your name?

  • Jean

    Amazing post.

    Thank you,
    Jean
    http://www.jeanmatthewhall.blogspot.com

  • hope42day

    This brought tears to my eyes…thank you for exposing yourself. Praise God that you decided to live for your family and your children have a very special someone in their lives.

  • pam at beyondjustmom

    Powerful stuff. We never know how God will work through us. Perhaps she wasn’t disappointed–she may have been worrying more about what you thought of her. Thanks for sharing this story, and we’re all glad you found your voice through writing.

  • Scott McQueen

    Thanks Billy, and thanks for your support on my post. I too almost checked out, sure you noticed that from my Blog. Someday I hope to get up the guts to tell all about it. Anyway, I do find comfort in your writings, keep up the good work! You bring out the best in people! I know He smiles on you.

    Scott

  • Chris Godfredsen

    Don’t know what kind of second baseman you were, I suspect pretty good, but also pretty sure that you are 10 times the writer!

    God has blessed you with a gift, brother, for drawing people in to see and hear what you see and hear – which is a lot of Kingdom stuff!

    At 17, who could’ve had more to offer Allison face to face? I praise God you continue to minister today – and wonder when you might answer Jennifer’s question!?!

  • God’s Not Finished With Us Yet…

    Wow, that’s incredible; to not know how the hand of God work, yet through you He did. And then He made it to where you crossed paths? How odd is that? Only He could do such a thing.

    It’s okay you didn’t say more; in her letter to you she didn’t say her name either, until later, until she was ready. You did something, without knowing it, that this young woman needed; to be encouraged and given hope.

    Thanks for sharing the story.

  • Alison

    Thanks for your willingness to share this story. It’s been rolling around in my mind for a couple of days…I’m painfully remembering a wasted opportunity I had that resulted in serious consequences. God is using this post to show me I need to let Him heal me.
    Thanks again.

  • Andra M.

    Wow. God is always right where we need him at the exact moment we need him isn’t he?

    I love that about him.

  • Candace Jean July 16

    Just had to come and read this. Oh. My. Baseball may have been your dream, but writing was your calling. I for one am so glad you heard it.

    You have blessed so many.

  • The Homefront

    I came here from the link in your second day of Ask Billy. I am always blown away by your way with weaving a story, but this post has brought me to tears.

    My husband played baseball and his shoulder suffered a similar fate. There's pain and disappointment in his face even now when he talks about how it happened, so I can imagine just a touch how devastating that loss must have been to you. I'm sorry for that. I'm glad Mrs. Houser pushed you to write, because you have touched so many people with this wonderful talent.

    Thank you for opening your heart to us so often.

  • Shanda

    I followed your "Allison" link over to read more.

    The irony in most of our unfulfilled dreams is that they probably would not have turned out how we anticipated that they would. Not that you wouldn't have been an amazing ball player; just that the fulfillment that you were expecting to be in it may not have been there.

    Aside from discovering the incredible gift of writing that you have; God may have been saving you from mounds of hurt that you cannot even imagine standing on the porch sipping sweet tea right now. But I'm sure you've already considered that.

    The song, "Unanswered Prayers" by Garth Brooks began a healing process for me for one of my own unanswered prayers. (I know, a country song…right?!) Garth began it; God has been completing it.

    Occasionally I will still have that twinge of the "what if…"; but I've come to understand that satan doesn't tend to be that original. He knows what is effective to distract me. Now that I can recognize that; it helps to diffuse the fiery dart.

    Keep writing Billy – God is most definitely using your transparency, heart, and charm for His glory. Blessings to you!