Billy Coffey

storyteller

The Long and Winding Road

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first post picFifteen years, seven months, and twenty-three days. As best I can tell, that’s how long it’s been since I first picked up a pen and said, “You know, I’d really like to get a book published.”

If I had known then that it would take that much time to be able to write these words, I maybe would have reconsidered that notion. Maybe. Because at that moment I took one small step onto a road of unknown distance and grade, thinking it would be an easy stroll.

Is that how it is with most dreams? Do we all fool ourselves into thinking the path from where we are to where our goals wait will be straight and flat with a slight decline to push us onward?

As is usually the case when my expectations collide with my reality, the road I took didn’t really take the form I thought it would. Or even should.

Far from straight and flat, my road was a long and winding. There were hairpin turns and potholes that I both fell into and eased my way through. There were steep climbs and harrowing descents. And the faint glimpses of an end were only false horizons that taunted rather than encouraged.

The only comfort I found during those long walks were my faith, my family, and the daydream of a phone call from an unknown someone who would tell me that it had all been worth it. That even though I had much walking left to do, that part of the journey was done.

That unknown someone turned out to be my agent, Rachelle Gardner. And on a warm afternoon about two months ago, she called to tell me just that.

I can now officially say that I’ve signed a two-book deal with FaithWords, an imprint of the Hachette Book Group. My first novel, Snow Day, will be published just in time for Christmas 2010. If you’d like a sneak peek, just click on the Snow Day tab above.

I’ve had much help from two of my blogger pals to fix up what I think is a rather awesome website. Katdish’s artistic ways came in very handy, and Peter Pollock was nice enough (and patient enough) to get things just right on the technical side. I don’t know how I can thank the both of them, but I’ll think of something.

And speaking of thanks.

People always seem to thank God whenever something wonderful happens. Even people who really don’t mean it. I do. The last fifteen years hasn’t always brought out the best in me. I lost faith, love, hope, and everything else I was supposed to never let go, only to find and lose it all again. The whole notion of the suffering saint has never really applied to me. The suffering? Yes. The saint? Not so much. And yet through it all, God was there.

So was my family, who learned quickly that life with a writer isn’t all bubble gum and cotton candy. If I endured much, they endured more.

It’s no accident that all of this has come about now rather than years ago. I’ve only been blogging for a little over a year, but I can honestly say that each and every one of you who have taken the time to stop by my cyber porch for a story have made all the difference. From what I understand, the comments you all have left over the months went a long way to convince my publisher there was an audience out there, even if it was just for a redneck hick like me.

We’ll keep you up to date in the coming months as things move along. In the meantime, feel free to visit often and take a look around. I’ll be right here on my usual days to share what’s on my mind. So grab a rocking chair and settle in. The weather’s fine, the breeze is cool, and there’s plenty of tea.

And the light’s always on.

Pick Your Cause

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The college where I work is a great place filled with great people. The campus is beautiful, the professors excellent, and the staff both accommodating and friendly.

But it is still a college. And as it is such, my work environment harbors the sort of modern, liberal predilections that a more traditional person like me can’t seem to understand sometimes. Some days, many days, I am both generally exasperated and specifically confused by what I see.

A few weeks ago the college held what is annually billed as Pick Your Cause Week. Each day brought exhibits, lectures, and a wealth of information concerning a particular organization or subject. This year children of alcoholics, muscular dystrophy, women’s cancers, domestic violence, and the poor were chosen.

Though there are some things here at work that I find questionable and a few I find just plain strange, I like this. I like it a lot. We should all have a Pick Your Cause Week.

I find it sadly ironic that in this age of computers and satellite television, when the smallest event that happens in the smallest corner of the smallest country on the other side of the world can be instantly beamed right into our living rooms, we’ve really never been so separated from one another.

The media blitzes us with a constant barrage of suffering and need. We see footage of disaster and crime and hear stories of loss and despair. And though we try every day to nourish whatever hope we have and coax it to grow, there is the daily reminder that our world seems to be teetering on the edge of a very dark abyss and there is nothing that can pull it back onto solid ground.

It all can be just a little too much to bear. For me, anyway.

So I do what a good Christian should. I pray. But I’ve found that I often use prayer as an excuse, a poor example of doing something. As much as I pray for this world and all the people in it, I find that I do little else about it. And while those prayers are vital, they shouldn’t be the final solution. Asking God to help the world and asking Him to equip me to help the world are two different things. I don’t often get that.

I have a tendency to shrink the world. Shrink it so its dimensions extend no further than the small part I happen to occupy. Shrink it to only that which affects me. My world is my family and my town and my work. Whatever else that happens outside of my world that is sad and regrettable and unfortunate affects me emotionally. But it is also none of my business. I try to ignore it. I don’t hope it will go away because I don’t think it ever will, I just try to stay out of its way and hope it doesn’t find me or the ones I care about.

All of that is of course the silliest thing any Christian should ever believe, and yet I do. And so do a lot of us. We all at some point fall for the great lie that there is nothing we can do about the state of things, and in doing so we risk developing a mindset that is perhaps as unchristian as we can get:

We don’t care what happens so long as it doesn’t happen to us.

That is why a Cause is so important. We are all called to spend our time and energy toward something that will continue on long after we leave this world. It is our purpose, our mission. No matter who we are or what we do or where our talents lie, we are all here for the same reason: to make things better.

To heal the wounded. Clothe the naked. Feed the poor. To offer help to the helpless and hope to the hopeless.

And the light of God to the darkness.

Resolutions

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My New Year’s Resolution lasted exactly twelve hours and thirty-seven minutes. A new record. All because I didn’t bother asking for any help.

Doesn’t really matter what my resolution was. Nothing major or life-altering. I’ve learned my lesson in that regard. There is a rule for making resolutions, and that is to keep them small. Manageable. I’ve tried the big resolutions, the ones that promise to change you and change you well, but the result was always still the same. “Shoot for the moon,” the expression goes. Because even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars. While that aphorism is inspiring, it isn’t very realistic. Most times you’ll miss the moon and the stars and crash somewhere in the desert.

Trust me. I know.

Still, I like the thought of bettering oneself. Of fixing the broken things in us and changing our outlook or our place in life. And that’s what resolutions are for. It is, perhaps, the only time of the year some people take an honest look at themselves: what is wrong? What will make me a better person?

And this, the big one: what should I change?

My resolution involved change. A change of behavior and habit that, while harming no one but me and even then only slightly, proved too difficult for me to do. And that’s frustrating. If I can’t even change one small thing about me, what can I change?

In a word, nothing. Me, you, the nice folks down the road, we’re all the same. We’re fallen creatures in need of a great amount of help. And without that help, we can do nothing.

Six years ago found me at a crossroads in my life. I was sick, both within and without. Ready to find the nearest tall building so I could make a slow trip up and a fast trip down. The problem? Well, the problem was that I was thirty years old and still suffering from the same problem I was at sixteen. I was tired of ignoring it, and more tired of fighting it. Every year I would vow a change, and every day after would prove that change wouldn’t be coming.

Help finally came by the counselor at church, so sat me down on one snowy day in March and told me four things.

One was that God was the only one who could change me.

Two was that God would only change me if I asked Him.

Three was that I would only ask Him if I was truly ready to change.

And four was that I would only be truly ready when the pain of staying the same was greater than the pain of changing.

I’d waited my whole life to hear those words.

I think we all want to change something about us. But it’s hard, isn’t it? Hard because change hurts. It’s work. Tough, sweaty labor that leaves us weak and exhausted. It’s easy to give up. Easy to put things off until tomorrow or next week or next year. Because let’s face it, the pain of changing is often a lot worse than the pain of staying the same.

But we aren’t called to stay the same, are we?

We are called to become more. More than we know or dream. More than we can do on our own. So don’t be afraid to ask for a little help to change, whether that help comes from a friend, a counselor, or prayer. There isn’t anyone alive who doesn’t need an ear to whisper to, a shoulder to cry on, or a pair of arms to rest in. Everyone needs help from time to time. Even God needs two mountains to make a valley.