change – Page 8

Resolution guy

January 3, 2011 by Billy Coffey 3 Comments

Though the first of January was a couple days ago, I’ve yet to make my resolution. I’ve even yet to decide if I’m going to make one at all. It’s something I toss around in my mind every year–whether to do or not to do–but in the end, it’s always the same. I don’t change.

At least, I don’t change in ways that allow me to see I’ve changed. It’s a slow process, slow and slight, sort of like time itself. Watch a clock, and the minutes never seem to pass. Don’t watch it, and you’re amazed how quickly a day can pass.

Whether I make a resolution or not this year, they have always fascinated me. We make them because we want to prove we can be better, and most times we break them and prove instead that we’ll never be quite perfect.

I’m writing about my own experience with resolutions over at katdish’s site today. Feel free to hop on over there and include your own.

And Happy New Year!

Cleaning up the world

October 5, 2010 by Billy Coffey 14 Comments

To work at a college is to have the opportunity to live your life in reverse. To see yourself as the person you used to be. True for me, anyway. I listen to their stories and hear their dreams and realize both sound familiar. They’re much the same as mine were, once upon a time.

There is a sense of determination among them, an anticipation. It’s almost palpable. They’re at that golden age in life when they’re both informed of the happenings of the world and determined to do something about them. And though the thousand or so students here differ in beliefs and opinions, they are united in this one important sense:

They are all convinced the world needs a good cleaning up.

Many more than you might think are here for simply that reason. They’re learning and preparing to go forth into the dark lands outside these ivory walls and do some good. To clean up. They see The Way Things Are and believe theirs is the generation who will put a stop to it all.

But there’s much they can do while they’re here, too. There are clubs and protests and candlelight vigils for everything from tolerance to global warming to ending the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. They write articles for the school newspaper on equality. Each of these activities are undertaken with a sense of excitement and passion you’d expect to find in young adults. They’re fighting the good fight and smiling as they go.

That was me once. I was never one for clubs and protests and candlelight vigils, but I did write articles. And I did believe the world needed a good cleaning up. Believed I was the sort of person to do it, too. I had all the excitement and passion in the world behind me to push me ahead. I promised myself that things would be better one day and that my generation would be the ones to thank for it.

It’s funny what people believe when they’re young. How that excitement and passion is the result of a blind expectation rooted not in reality, but in the idealistic dreams of youth.

You, dear reader, know this. I’m sure of it. Because like me, you likely once thought much the same. But the big dreams we sometimes have tend to shrink as time wears on. Where they once lifted us up in possibility, they soon begin to weigh us down in doubt. We may know of the world at twenty, but we cannot fathom it. Not yet. That comes later, when job and family and responsibility appear. When getting ahead is narrowed into getting by. And we see then for the first time this horrible truth—things are too big for us. We are not the stalwart captains of hope and change we once believed we were; our determination instead resides in surviving this day to face the next.

We no longer wish to change the world. All we want is to make sure the world doesn’t change us. That would be enough. We don’t like thinking we’ll lose in this life, even if winning seems unfeasible. Fighting to a draw, then, is the best we think we can do.

That’s what I think about when I see these students every day. About how their passion will be tempered against the hardness of a world they can only flirt with and not yet love. I wonder how kind the coming years will be to them, what they will lose and then gain from the loss.

And through it all they will be nagged by the very notion that still nags you and me, the notion that the world does indeed need a good cleaning up. We’re all right in believing that. Where they’re wrong now and I was wrong once is believing that cleaning should begin at the upper reaches of our society and drip down onto everyone else. I don’t believe that to be true. Not anymore.

Because now I know better. Now I know that if I ever want to help clean up the world, I have to start by cleaning up myself.

This post is part of the blog carnival on Healing, hosted by Bridget Chumbley. To read more, please visit her site.

The tribe

May 11, 2010 by Billy Coffey 20 Comments

I can’t remember the name of the tribe, which is mildly ironic given the nature of their story. And it’s quite a story.It amazes me that regardless of how smart we are and how much we can do, we still know so little about the world.

Only 2 percent of the ocean floor has been explored. Species thought long extinct still turn up every once in a while. And just last year, scientists stumbled upon a valley in New Guinea that had gone untouched by man since the dawn of time. There were plants and insects never seen before. And the animals never bothered hiding or running from the explorers. They didn’t have the experience to tell them humans were a potential threat.

But of course it’s not just plants and animals and hidden valleys that are being discovered. People are, too. And that can lead to all sorts of things.

Take, for instance, the tribe I mentioned above.

They were discovered in 1943 in one of the remotest parts of the Amazon jungle. Contact was carefully arranged. Easy at first, nothing too rash. That seems to be rule number one in those situations–don’t overwhelm the tribe.

It didn’t work. Here’s why.

The difference between these particular people and the others that pop up every few years was that their uniqueness was foundational to their belief system. They’d been so cut off from civilization for so long that they were convinced they were the only humans in the world. No one outside of their small tribe existed. And they liked that idea.

Finding out that not only were there other people in the world, there were billions of them, was too much. The trauma of learning they were not unique was so debilitating that the entire tribe almost died out. Even now, sixty-nine years later, only a few remain.

Sad, isn’t it?

I’ll admit the temptation was there for me to think of that tribe as backward and primitive for thinking such a thing. But then I realized they weren’t. When you get right down to it, their beliefs and the truth they couldn’t carry made them more human than a lot of people I know.

Because we all want to be unique.

We all want to think we’re special, needed by God and man for some purpose that will outlast us. We want to be known and remembered. We all know on a certain level that we will pass this way but once, and so we want whatever time we have in this world to matter.

That’s not a primitive notion. That’s a universal one.

I think at some point we’re all like members of that tribe. We have notions of greatness, of doing at most the impossible and at least the improbable. Of blazing a new trail for others to follow. It’s a fire that burns and propels our lives forward.

I will make a difference, we say. People will know I was here.

But then we have a moment like that tribe had, when we realize there are a lot of other people out there who are more talented and just as hungry. People who seem to catch the breaks we don’t and have the success that eludes us. And that notion that we were different and special fades as we’re pulled into the crowd of humanity and told to take our rightful place among the masses.

It’s tough, hanging on to a dream. Tough having to talk yourself into holding the course rather than turning back. Tough having to summon faith amidst all the doubt.

But I know this:

That tribe was right.

We are all unique.

We are all here for a purpose, and it’s a holy purpose. One that cannot be fulfilled by anyone else and depends upon us.

We are more than flesh and blood. More than DNA and RNA and genes and neurons. And this world is more than air and water and earth. Whether we know it or not, whether we accept it or not, our hearts are a battleground between the two opposing forces of light and dark.

One side claims we are extraordinary. The other claims we’re common.

It’s up to us to decide the victor.

The Long and Winding Road

October 16, 2009 by Billy Coffey 113 Comments

first post pic Fifteen 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

February 26, 2009 by Billy Coffey Leave a Comment

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

January 1, 2009 by Billy Coffey 11 Comments

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.

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