Not an Atlanta Street, but it Could Have Been!
Brunswick, Georgia 2009
Psalms 20:1
"May the Lord answer you when you are in distress; may the name of the God of Jacob protect you."
Summer thunderstorms and Atlanta, Georgia, go together like peanut butter and jelly. Ham and eggs. Simon and Garfunkel (Who are they? the 13 year-old asks).
The summer of 2003 was no different with the weather. The major difference that summer was I packed up from south Georgia and worked in Atlanta for a week trying to help Georgia debate coaches pull off a national debate tournament at Georgia State University.
My son, Russell, and one of my students, Chris, had both just graduated from high school and were now attending their last national competition in Atlanta as well.
I had reserved hotel rooms about 30 minutes outside of the city to keep our costs down. However, the trade off came in gasoline as I always managed to get lost to and from GSU and the hotel.
Losing my way in the maze of city streets ended up being the least of my worries. The worst moment came when I lost the car in a thunderstorm.
Chris had competed well for several days and finally broke to the octofinals of foreign extemporaneous speaking.
The flip side of his success had been he had missed meals, and he was low on energy. I decided to take him to Underground Atlanta to an Italian restaurant to carb him up. Problem was, as soon as I got in the car, I got lost, so it took longer than normal to get to Underground.
We finally saw it and found an unattended parking lot nearby where I could park. I took my ticket at the entrance of the lot, drove past the gate, parked, and Chris and I walked a few blocks to Underground to eat.
While we were feasting on pasta, a thunderstorm erupted over Atlanta. The heavens opened, streets flooded, the whole sha-bang. I didn't think much about it except it kept raining hard, and it was time for us to leave. I had to find Chris an umbrella to keep his clothes dry for his approaching finals round. We hunted all over the place, until, finally, we found a huge golf umbrella that a football team could fit under.
Underground Atlanta is a bit of a maze itself, and we had not paid attention to our landmarks. We didn't remember from which direction we had entered. Now I heard a clock tick-ticking in my head as all I could think about was getting him back to GSU in time for the most important round of his life.
We ran up several flights of stairs and out into different city intersections. Nothing looked familiar; the rain pelted us. I thought about hailing a taxi (they were all hiding anyway) but didn't know where to send the driver to find my car.
We had only one option--brave the rain and go out on foot in search of the car lot.
I made sure Chris kept the umbrella. My concern for my looks was long gone as I couldn't decide if the tick-ticking in my head was a precursor to a heart attack or panic attack or both. Whatever it was, my looks would not matter in the hospital. Chris was all who mattered right then.
Chris' long legs leapt over the gullies of water in the potholes and gutters of Atlanta intersections. I plowed through each one and listened to my shoes squeak.
Chris thought he recognized a landmark; I encouraged him to climb a hill to see if it would pan out.
As I panted up the hill behind Chris, in the middle of a thunderstorm, feet squeaking, head tick-ticking, I heard a male voice behind me asking for money. I barely break stride, huff and puff and tell him, "No".
He came closer begging again, and I'm amazed he is so dense to see this is not the proper time to panhandle because I am already madder than a rattlesnake for losing my car and probably causing Chris to lose the round.
I still don't break stride and he made the mistake of telling me, "I have problems, and I need some help." I holler over my shoulder, "Can't you see I have problems of my own right now, Mister?"
Chris was right, he found the car lot, but before I could get us out, I needed to pay. I'd never used an unattended parking lot before. I needed the ticket in order to pay.
We got to the car, I grabbed the ticket and told Chris to dry off as best he could. I went back to the cubby where the pay machine was. When I turned around to leave, I was blocked by another man who wanted money. This time, I couldn't bear it any longer.
I glared at him, eyes spinning into the back of my head and shrieked:
LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I think I actually roared on the last word. He stood to his full height, shook himself off, spun around in an affronted manner and sniffed, "Well, if that's the way you feel about it!"
I was so mad, I balled up my ticket after I paid and threw it on the ground.
I got in the car, pulled up to the exit gate, head tick-ticking louder than before, and the gate wouldn't open. What is going on today? I scream in my head. I look closer and notice a place in the gate where I'm supposed to insert the ticket I have just balled up and thrown onto the wet ground--maybe a water puddle. Oh no!
I park the car, hustle to the cubby and search the ground. Lucky for me, I find the ticket, insert it, and we start to wind our way to GSU getting lost several times along the way.
Chris made it to his round on time. He did his best, but we later decided that the judges were looking for someone else's style than his, and he had advanced as far as he was going to go even before we went for dinner.
As I think back on that time period, which was less than an hour but seemed to last forever when Chris and I were disoriented, wet, lost, scared (for me, at least) and the pressure of time was on our backs, I realize God was with us.
My anger and frustration was as much a reflection of my fear and anxiety as anything. Again, my temper flares up in times when I am overwhelmed by events. I suppose I could have been more gracious to the men harrassing me, but the first one did not react to me until I brushed him off. I just side-stepped the pleasantries with the second one to save time.
I know when those men approached, I felt His strength within me to face them. There were no other people around us, and I felt vulnerable in the city.
God was with us on those empty streets leading Chris, leaping like a gazelle over rivers of flooded city streets, to the parking lot we needed.
As I reflect on this memory, I see where I needed to trust God more and let go of my need to control the situation. In retrospect, I see that now. At the time this event occured, I didn't let Him speak to me, though.
I need to do a better job of letting go and letting God.
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Lord, Thank you for being with me and those I care about when we are in unfamiliar surroundings.
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