Billy Coffey
Billy Coffey

Jump

August 18, 2010  

image courtesy of photobucket.com

image courtesy of photobucket.com

Lately I’ve taken my lunch at the park, enjoying a bit of the country in the middle of the city. I’ll park my truck by the baseball field, climb a small hill to sit on a smaller bench, and stare across the street. Just to see if it’ll happen, finally happen, today.

The facelifted but tired house is home to a family I’ve never met and a young man I’ve come to know only from a distance. Ten or so from the looks of him. All boy. Grass-stained Levi’s, alternating Transformer and John Deere T-shirts, and a filthy baseball cap. Always the cap. Homeschooled too, I suppose, since he’s home every day and I’ve yet to see a truancy officer.

For about a week I sat and watched him take scraps of plywood and two-by-fours from behind his father’s shed, gather the pile in the middle of the driveway, and proceed to hammer and nail every boy’s first serious attempt at engineering—a ramp. It started small, not much more than a pine speed bump. But either his ambitions or an innate love for hammering and nailing got the better of him, and that bump got bigger. Much bigger. So much so that the upper part of the curve on the finished product nearly came to the bill of his cap.

This was someone not merely content to give a gentle tug at gravity’s suppressive bonds. No, he wanted to break them with impunity. To fly.

He hammered the last nail a week ago and then pulled a muddy bike out of the shed, backed it up a good twenty feet, and climbed on. And then climbed off. A practice run, I supposed. The next day he actually pedaled halfway to the ramp. Halfway and half-hearted. And like any act undertaken with half a heart, it was doomed to fail. He squeezed the handlebars just as the front tire went from pavement to plywood.

And that’s how it’s been since. Every day I come here for my lunch, and every day he inches closer to that ramp but never quite close enough. And right now he’s there again, sitting on his bike and staring.

I know why.

From where I’m sitting I can look to my right at a tight circle of iron tracks. The train runs at the park during the warmer months and is quite the attraction, both for the kids and the parents who once were kids.

As a child I was terrified of the train, convinced the tunnel on the far side was in fact a door to the underworld that swung only one way. Boarding it would mean the end of me. I would race through the tunnel and be swallowed by it, lost in the darkness forever. When I turned eight, I knew it was time to put up or shut up. I rode the train. I jumped. And to my unbridled delight I found that not only did the tunnel have an entrance, it had an exit as well.

And I can look to my left and see the spot where as a teenager I parked one Saturday night and listened as my girlfriend serenaded me with Poison’s “I Won’t Forget You,” promising to never-ever-ever if I just fell in love with her. I liked the sound of that, so I jumped. She forgot about me three months later.

Which is why I understand the boy’s apprehension. It’s tough to jump. Tough to gather the nerve. Because you never know what’s going to happen after. You never know if you’ll land or crash, laugh or cry. And so we all sit and stare and wonder whether the chance to fly is worth the risk to fall. The good things in life are like that. They cost much but are worth more.

I look out over the park and see him tug on the bill of his cap. He rubs his hands and adjusts the pedals, positioning them just so for the right amount of initial oomph. And just as I think he’s about to squeeze the handlebars again, he doesn’t. He pushes harder. His eyes open wide.

And he jumps.

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Comments

  • http://sixgreggs.blogspot.com Rebekah @ It Only Gets Better

    “This was someone not merely content to give a gentle tug at gravity’s suppressive bonds. No, he wanted to break them with impunity. To fly.”

    Billy, I think this is one of the most wonderful bits of words strung together that I’ve ever read.

  • http://www.kellylangnersauer.com/blog Kelly Langner Sauer

    I remember this post; it’s a repost, right? one of my favorite pieces of yours…

  • http://www.moonboatcafe.com Cassandra Frear

    As I read this, I was caught up in the story. My mind traveled back there with you. But my though was more like a sigh. “Jumping is over-rated.”

    As one who has jumped, and jumped again, I feel a bit jaded about it. We seem to have a fascination with the jump — the leap — but it doesn’t work like magic. After the jump, then what? Success is more like a series of jumps over creeks and ravines on a long uphill climb.

    But here’s the thing: without the jump, nothing will happen. The story stalls out.

  • http://randommusings-helen.blogspot.com/ Helen

    No jumping, no falling… but no soaring either.

  • http://aspiretoleadaquietlife.blogspot.com A Simple Country Girl

    This story reminds me of learning to rollerblade in college with a group of fellas (one being my husband). I donned my helmet and all the plastic protective armor available because I knew that in order to keep up with them I would have to go way outta my comfort zone. Wild turns, crazy steep slopes, and a hard fall where I dragged my head down the concrete ramp and ripped the seat right outta my shorts proved to me that it’s okay to jump, as long as you reach for a hand to help you up. And when you are laying there all breathless, bloody, and laughing till you might pee, then you know you really soared.

    Billy, you have some fantastic lunches.

    Blessings.

  • http://splittergewitter.blogspot.com Claudia

    so glad he made it!
    and you’ve written so eloquently about this process of trying and being afraid and knowing when it’s time to really jump

  • http://hisfirefly.blogspot.com HisFireFly

    “And so we all sit and stare and wonder whether the chance to fly is worth the risk to fall.”

    The Lord’s timing is again astounding. He was just speaking to me this morning about cutting the ties that bind me to the ways of the world. That surrender is a “releasing” and that although the freedom would indeed leave me dizzy, He Is the current that carrys me.

    Then I come here, and He speaks again as you wrote “Jump”

  • http://www.ordinarilyextraordinary.com/ Amy Nabors

    Thank you for the reminder that sometimes you just have to take that leap and jump. Sure we might fall, but we’ll never know where that jump will take us if we never take it at all.

  • http://writingwithoutpaper.blogspot.com Maureen

    When you mentioned the tracks and the ramp, I held my breath, hoping you would not say the boy was going to attempt to fly over the tracks with a train coming.

    Knowing when to take the right kind of jump takes a bit of discernment.

    Good post!

  • http://www.jumpingtandem.com deidra

    “…a door to the underworld that swung only one way…” Yikes! You and I must have had the same childhood imagination. It still shows up sometimes…especially when I’m trying to jump!

  • http://www.lynnrush.com Lynn Rush

    Love this!

  • http://www.joannesher.com Joanne Sher

    We all need to know when to jump – and it’s always scary. Thanks, Billy

  • http://topsy.com/www.billycoffey.com/2010/08/jump-3/?utm_source=pingback&utm_campaign=L2 Tweets that mention Jump : Billy Coffey — Topsy.com

    [...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Billy Coffey, Glynn Young, Samantha Hunter, Helenatrandom, Annie K and others. Annie K said: RT @billycoffey Never be afraid to jump: http://bit.ly/95jEd8 [...]

  • http://www.endlessimpact.com jasonS

    I’ve been in a few crash-and-burns and I have also had a few soaring experiences. The soaring definitely is worth the risk in most instances, especially in leaps of faith. Thanks Billy. Great perspective today.

  • http://www.melissamarsh.net Melissa Marsh

    Wonderful! Sharing this with others today…

  • http://godsheart-heart2heart.blogspot.com Kat

    Billy,

    But did he make it to the other side? I always wondered if he crashed, did he make it, but I guess the most important thing is that he tried and gave it his best effort of faith and believed. Isn’t that what true faith is?

    Love and Hugs ~ Kat

  • http://thinkingtoodeeply.blogspot.com Karin

    Ditto Kat! I’ve watched too many AFV shows! Great post! Thanks!

  • http://debholmes1.blogspot.com Deb

    if only you had a camera!

  • http://soulfari.blogspot.com/ Jay Cookingham

    Adventure without risk is Disneyland. – Doug Coupland

    Love the picture painted with your words bro’…by all means…let’s jump!

  • http://sandraheskaking.com Sandra Heska King

    I’m thinking you were dying to pull the bill of your cap down and join him on that ramp!