Tell me now

Once upon a time, Wednesday was the greatest day of the week. Early in the morning the sound of Brenda coming through the back door was magical. Brenda was a wonderful friend, and it was an extra super bonus that she spent her day making sense of everything in our house. Before she got started setting things to right as only she could, we had our customary meet-up in the kitchen for an ATL current events review. Brenda held the bar high for staying informed--she knew everything of interest going on in every part of Atlanta--so we covered all variety of local news items. And she and I always went over the AJC obituaries. 

Brenda and I held the daily collection of death notices in the same high reverential regard. The two of us shared sorrow about the notably sad and tragic ones, and veneration for individuals who had led long and meaningful lives and/or just seemed nice. 

No matter if the departed was young, old, or somewhere in-between, we particularly appreciated detailed obituaries (with pictures) that gave us real insight into the person's life and what he or she had meant to family, friends and community. We routinely paid homage to these people and, conversely, we were dismayed by brief write-ups that provided only the basics without giving us the privilege of knowing the deceased at all. And we always wanted to know them. 

Brenda's special interests were the survivor roster (she frequently knew of someone on the list) and funeral details; I always longed to know what caused this individual to be taken, the piece that explained it all. I'd like to think that early every Wednesday we honored lots and lots of souls there in the kitchen, always agreeing that life mostly ends too soon.

~~~~~

While wonderful Wednesdays with Brenda have come and gone, I'm still committed to the obituaries. Just the other day, my friend Paige sent me a magnificent one honoring a 94-year-old Atlanta lady. Prior to her death, this woman had penned her own lovely chronicle of an abundantly blessed life, and the accompanying picture featured her pretty image with lipstick and pearls.  

But she saved the best for last. After her buoyant account of a long journey filled with family, faith, friends and world travel, this lady helpfully served up a list titled, "What the Lord has done in my life that shows His goodness". Numbered precisely from one to ten, she tells of being blessed with godly parents, a college education, a long, happy marriage to a wonderful husband, five children who brought joy, "extremely good health", and she was able to stay in her own "comfortable and pleasant home through widowhood". 

Back in the Brenda days, this lovely piece would have merited pride of place in our morning visit, and we certainly would have been filled with admiration. Reading this in 2019, I thought the exact same thing I would have back then:

I sure do wish I'd known this person

So I have a special request: 
In order to avoid angst and regret down the road, I have decided that it is incumbent on everyone alive in my orbit to just go ahead and share their list of God's goodness in their life with me in the here and now. Where you have been, what you have done, who is special in your life and what is extraordinary about your life--the welcome mat for your story is out. I would really appreciate knowing all this stuff in the present, and I stand ready to be inspired. 

Also, as another small favor, if you have something not going so well, I want to hear about that, too. Burden-sharing is such a great thing--yes, I would really like to know. 
Thank you in advance for indulging me just this once. 

~~~~~

The first text I received early on my birthday this year was from Brenda herself. It's been over ten years since we have enjoyed kitchen fellowship, but we still love each other as we did back then. Of course, life will always be devoid of that special Wednesday morning zing that accompanied her wisdom and insights about Atlanta goings-on. But, most especially, I miss our sharing the lives of the countless people we wish we had known. 

From the archives

Annabelle and Brenda 

July 19, 2006

Changing places

A long time ago, we had a two year flirtation with life way, way outside the Atlanta perimeter in the northern suburbs. The route from Chattanooga to our house was an elaborate blend of I-75, I-285, and Georgia 400, plus eight miles. So on William's first Thanksgiving, Don drove up to Tennessee to collect my parents for the holiday. We had a wonderful two day visit, but Margaret and Emery were elated when the time came for them to head home. As the car reversed out of our North Fulton County driveway, my mother reached into her purse for her house keys and clutched them for the entire 2 ½ hour journey back to her favorite place on earth.

~~~~~

On the other hand, each and every time I visited Chattanooga over the course of 20+ years, the ending was always the same—shot like a cannon right back down I-75, home to good old Atlanta. I did love seeing and spending time with my parents, it's just that I could never work out how and why anyone would ever want to live in that corner of Tennessee while such excitement was available down the road in the beckoning Georgia capitol. And my thought while in Chattanooga was ever the same:

“Living here must be so dreary”

Atlanta was home--full of friends, energy, sophistication, and Delta—all of which I adore with my whole heart. Riding around our neighborhood every day offered up a perfectly perfect architectural showcase with matching landscaping. We had lovely friends from church, school and sports, great neighbors, as well as a glorious array of Publix, Target, and Chick-fil-a options within five miles of home. (Lest it should rain, several feature covered parking). Without a doubt, it was a wonderful ATL life.

~~~~~

But a wonderful life can and does serve up extraordinary change, and it was only after both Margaret and Emery were long gone did we move to their most beloved city. I do remember exactly where I was for the Damascus Road moment when I considered for the first time ever that the city where I had enduring zero interest in living might offer the best opportunity for us to thrive in changing times. My parents would have been beyond ecstatic, and no one was more surprised than I was to land in Tennessee.

Perpetually missing ATL life and loved ones has been just part of the deal, but it is balanced with a Tennessee existence that continues in meaningfulness. We have a home we love in a beautiful little town, and I find myself surrounded by lovely friends, neighbors, and work colleagues. Chattanooga gave William and Annabelle quality teen years that profoundly shaped their moving onwards into college and the world beyond. And now they have both found that affinity for big-city vibrancy, just as I did. But the road to there runs right through here.

Today marks an unbelievable ten years since we moved to Chattanooga. We haven't replaced anyone or anything from our old lives, we've just increased the richness by adding in new people and places. I go back to ATL to luxuriate in the familiar and marvel at all the new. While the Publix, Target, and Chick-fil-a offerings around Chattanooga are sadly limited in compare, there are other tremendous amenities here that even out the score. 

I can reflect on a decade where almost every day has been filled with bountiful learning in what I have found to be a beautiful, peaceful and decidedly far-from-dreary place. I am thankful for it all, most particularly for everyone we love--here, there, and everywhere. I wouldn't change anything.