The land of 10,000 traffic lights

And there you have it -- my pet name for the city of Atlanta.  I think there is a lesson to be learned here and plenty of time to ponder it as the light turns green, drive 25 feet and the next light turns red.  Repeat roughly 30-40 times for the next hour and a half and that pretty much sums up Atlanta traffic.

So 9 months in...what do we know?  We know that nobody is from Atlanta.    The midwest is well represented and so is Alabama.  People don't meet for coffee; they meet for lunch or dinner or drinks.  SEC football reigns supreme (GA. Tech who?) and a party in the fall is likely to find passionate fans from at least 7 of the SEC schools -- and God help us all if Georgia happens to have lost.

It would seem that Atlanta is in search of an identity.  There really isn't an identifiable landmark unless you count the Aquarium or Stone Mountain (a.k.a. "The Confederate Mount Rushmore"). It is constantly on the go and it would seem the prevaling attitude is "Work hard, Play hard"

I look at this new residence and I wonder now I got here and how long I'll be here.  I obviously know the circumstaces that brought me here but the question is undoubtedly a deeper one than that.  I was never excited about the city itself and I am still not overjoyed about the prospects of it as a long-term home.

However, the longer I am here, the more convinced I come that God brought me here.  There were certanly things I had to face and questions I had to answer.  Beyond that, there have been many other positive things about the move.  But even more, I get the feeling that God has placed me here for a very distinct purpose.  Perhaps it is the relationships I will form here or the organizations I will get involved with and perhaps it is just a matter of trust -- the ability to trust that God has a plan for me that is beyond anything I could imagine for myself.  My mind is constantly churning and the hope is that someday it will figure out how to make butter.

So all that to say that I have been having a great time and loving life.  I have many several friendships and found a consistent Church community.  The job has been teaching me incredible things and given me the opportunity to learn from one of the experts in my field.  I have maintained my usual heavy involvement with Church related activities but I am learning how to better manage my activities and my time so that I don't feel overloaded or spread too thin.  I often get the chance to work from a coffee shop at the Church which gives me the opportunity to pester the student ministry staff.  I have even found a little time to resume my tennis career and to expand my rec league softball prowess (I actually got a legit triple the other day!).  And lastly, I have seen my family more times in this past year than any point in the previous seven before that.

And with that, I leave you with one more thought:

Southern Lesson of the Night

I think most people are aware that "Y'all" is a Southern term.  However, I received a rather surprising education the other night.  Apparently "All Y'all" is a perfectly legitimate use of the term.  Now lets use that in a sentence:

"Are all y'all comin' for some chicken & waffles?"  (and no I did not make up that combination)

You can never go home again...or can you?

The signing of Ken Griffey Jr.  to Seattle has inspired me to write this blog entry with the giddiness of an overexuberant schoolgirl.  Ok, I must confess that it took me approximately two and a half seconds to get over the disappointment of not seeing him play in Hotlanta.  But back to the point at hand...

It got me to thinking about homecomings and perhaps I will use these musings to derrive some sort of greater meaning from the idea.  I think we've all been at some place at some point of time that's magical or at least we look back at some point of nostalgia with rose colored glasses.   It was a time when all was well with the World, everything had P-U-R-P-O-S-E (See Avenue Q for this somewhat forced and out of place reference), etc., etc., etc...

And that's exactly what this was -- not just for the Kid, but for an entire city.  I have read article after article from Seattlites of what watching him play meant; I have seen how one double can reshape the entire identity of a place.  Here's the thing...I didn't grow up in Seattle and I've never seen Griffey play as a Mariner.  I arrived to my adopted city in time to witness the Mariners win more games than any team in History.  Seattle has had it's share of great moments like the Sonices in 79 or the Dawgs in 91.  Sacred icons like Largent, Edgar, and the Dawgfather are ever looming.

And yet this somehow feels different.  Griffey was not only great -- perhaps the greatest talent to wield a bat -- but he was everything that was right with the game.  He played with such joy and effortless effort that you just couldn't help but like him.  He was warmly embraced and he never turned his back on the city even when he wore another uniform.

But now what...he's coming back.  Can he tarnish his legacy and ruin the indelible memories?  One of the few things I've learned in life is that those special moments are reserved for that time and place.  You can never go back because the atmosphere is never the same -- no matter how much you want it to be.  However, I think this is different.  New magic and new circumstances can always be created; it just can't be done in the same way.

A perfect storm is brewing.  Expectations have been set to where nobody expects the player that left.  The city has been ripped asunder and a hero has emmerged from the ashes to strap the remains to his back.  And that is what so special about sports -- the impossible is possible.  When the conditions are ripe, a hobbled vetern can limp around the bases leaving onlockers to gasp..."I don't believe what I just saw!"