Midtown Pt. 1

I keep making plans that keep changing.  Best laid.

I went to Atlanta this weekend.  For the first time in three or four years.  I forgot about the headaches I get when I go down south, the change in the climate, the pressure change.  I forgot how antsy I get when I can't go where I want, when I want.  Atlanta has always meant losing my independence, all the while calling me to let loose and be myself.  Always a preview.  Always a sneak peak.

I went this time to see Tiffany.  That's what I told people.  That's what I told myself.

But I was actually going to check on something.  Something I had a suspicion of, but wasn't entirely sure of.  I didn't realize this was my personal agenda until I asked Tiffany to turn around.

We were in Midtown.  High rise apartments surrounded me, richly funded parks, well-paved sidewalks, girls walking their golden retrievers.  (This was not the Atlanta I love, and I was confused why my GPS was taking us this way.)

And then there it was.  Tucked just in front of a luxury apartment and an office building.

We didn't even stop.  Just slowly drove by.  I was deeply confused for only a split second until His voice swept over me.  "Don't be disappointed," He whispered in my ear.  We kept driving on and I settled back in my seat.  "That was not what I had for you."

Plans keep changing.  I keep having wild, noble ideas and make agendas and plans for myself.  I will do this, go there, then.  I keep embarrassing myself, having to tell you that things have changed.  And what I was so excited about, so set on doing, is no longer the plan.

I don't know if this makes me foolish or wise, the being willing to change.

We continued to drive through Midtown and I only happened to look down as we crossed a bridge.  I don't know what I expected to see, maybe another highway.  In Kentucky it would have been a creek.

But in Atlanta, it was the projects.  A different sort of living environment.  Built around a basketball court.  With a bridge built over top.

And on that basketball court were dozens of children and teenagers.

I think I scared Tiffany when I started hollering about how that's where I wanted to be.  Not in the yuppie park.  I also think she thought I was joking.  The last time I saw her, none of this had begun.  So maybe it looks like a wild infatuation with the black culture.  Which it is.  Or maybe it looks like a complete distaste for wealth.  Which it is.  But it is also... my heart.

Because regardless of the places I go or don't go, the opportunities I take or don't take, the plans, which change or don't change, one thing remains the same.  I know who my heart belongs to.  I know where to go to find my rhythm, my life.  In the longest time, that has not changed.  For the longest time, He's been confirming this in me.