I went to see my mom on Monday.  She lives in north Alabama, about three hours and a world away from here.  I like the place and it is a good visit.    Especially do I enjoy the drive, intentionally slowing down along the way to soak in the familiar culture.  An old guy in a fedora hat, driving an old beat-up car, waves as we meet.  That does not happen in Atlanta.  Kids ride bikes along neighborhood streets, buddies out exploring the community on a lazy afternoon.  Sometimes I spy a cross on the side of the highway, likely marking the spot where a loved one died in a traffic accident.  Neighbors gather on a porch to drink tea, or beer, and talk about nothing in particular.  There is a high frequency of pretty-little country churches.  And I like to read the homemade religious signs that periodically pop up beside neat country homes.  “Tell 3 People Today That You Love Them”, “Jesus Is Coming Soon”, “Jesus Shaves”.  I misspelled the last one intentionally!

Whenever I drive back home and spend some time, I find myself once again with a renewed wistfulness at the reality that I no longer belong. 

About 20 years ago I took on a small pastorate near my hometown.  Nothing seemed to work.  They did not like my preaching- not fiery enough.  They did not like my opinion about just who in the community should attend their social gatherings, also called worship.  They didn’t like my wife and kids- who did not fit the mold, no matter how hard we all tried.   And they decided rather quickly that they didn’t like me.  “Too much Yankee,” they said.  I did not understand, and more than a bit broken, moved on to Atlanta.  Most of my life has included trying to find connection with this people and lifestyle that is at the root of who I am.  It has not been very successful.  Still I hang around.  We’re a mystery to one another.  At least, now I am smart enough to simply visit, and not live there.

On my way home I pulled into the McDonald’s in Piedmont, Alabama, a bright and shiny facility similar to all the rest.  Upon walking inside, it was obvious this was someplace different.  Two gentlemen sat to the side, munching fries and playing checkers.  The lady in front of me was talking with the counter person about families and local folk, neither in any hurry about placing the order.  And they were oblivious to the little electronic timer in front of the register, clicking with red numerals the average time of service.  It was now showing four minutes, and counting.  Finally I was allowed to place my order, and when it was obvious the cooks were also in no hurry, I walked back toward the restroom.  Accidentally I bumped into a little old lady, who was walking around visiting with various people at their tables.  “You’re not from around here,” she cheerfully queried?  “No,” I replied with a tiny bit of sadness.

In a few minutes, I drove on down the road, Quarter-Pounder-With-Chee se in hand.  I like to eat while I drive, which is dangerous and likely illegal but still a favorite activity.  I tried to catch up on some talk radio.  No luck.  Nowhere on the dial could I pick up Rush The Truth Detector, Clark The Pocket Protector, or even The G-Man.  These were the rolling hills of north Alabama, and selections on radio were limited to Sports Talk, Country Music, and Religion.  So I listened for a bit.  Sports conversation was dominated with Crimson Tide football.  After several dismal seasons the team has won it first four games, and rabid fans convinced they can now beat everybody including the New York Giants.  Having enough of this religion of Football, I pushed the button for another station.  Quickly I found myself making note that country music, as much as the singers appear more hip, has not much changed.  It is still largely about “my baby leavin’ me”, “bein’ country and lovin’ it” , and lovin’ Jesus and beer.  And religion?  Who listens to preachers on AM radio, on Monday afternoon?  Apparently, a lot of people in north Alabama!

There is a favorite spot that I drive by.  It is a little white house next to the rolling bend of a creek, amidst a tiny town in the mountains.  One time I saw a “For Sale” sign next to the house.  I’m pretty sure the house could be bought for a very reasonable price.  Sometimes I think I would like to pack up and move to that place.  There is work to be found somewhere, although it would not pay much.  Surely I could find a small church to pastor, for no doubt in the vicinity there sits a dozen pretty little houses of worship.  It would be ideal! 

And then I shake my head, and slap my face.  You can paint a picture, but sometimes no matter how pretty it may appear, it does not reflect reality.

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posted by: LadyG (reply)
post date: 09.24.08 (8:09 am)

Sounds like a nice place to visit PD for a short while then back to reality.

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posted by: fractalmom (reply)
post date: 09.24.08 (9:13 am)

hey, there's always the island? I'm about ready to sell it all and go LOL.

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posted by: PastorDave (reply)
post date: 09.24.08 (10:25 am)

Reply to: LadyG
Many people seem to do quite well to call this place home. As much as I have wished, and tried, it does not work for me. Reality is that we change, and the person we become often does not fit too well into the past. Such is usually a good thing, I think.

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posted by: PastorDave (reply)
post date: 09.24.08 (10:29 am)

Reply to: fractalmom
That Island, for me, is Kiribati. It's in the South Pacific literally on the other side of the world. I've checked it out. Read a book and done research on the internet. I think I could be happy there. My dilemma now- which place in Kiribati? There is Christmas Island, and there's Tarawa. And, surrounding these are countless little reef islands almost untouched by modern civilization. Maybe I'll go for one of those?

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posted by: PastorDave (reply)
post date: 09.24.08 (10:32 am)

Reply to: madmel
Yeah. You're right. Doggone it! Those people in those picture-perfect little settings, who seem so happy and carefree, in reality have lives just as challenged and complicated as myself. They sure look good, outside the car window as I drive by, or in a postcard.

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posted by: bawdy (reply)
post date: 09.24.08 (11:00 am)

You seem to have a loyal following in Atlanta. Why give that up?

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posted by: PastorDave (reply)
post date: 09.24.08 (11:33 am)

Reply to: bawdy
No plans! Just, sometimes when I'm tired and not too happy, what-used-to-be seems attractive. I know better.

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posted by: pineapples (reply)
post date: 09.24.08 (3:13 pm)

i can understand how you feel , before i moved back home i lived about 2 and half hours away.. i enjoyed the drive down because it gave time to think about things and reflect... my parents live in a tourist area near the beach, it is soo laid back that it use to drive me crazy as i was use to the hustle and bustle of the city life.. it took a long time to get use to the easy going no rush mentality ..but i am getting there

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posted by: barnabus1 (reply)
post date: 09.24.08 (6:31 pm)

Ahhhh one can never go back..it can never be the same..we all change so much even in a very short time. A lady from here moved to NY for a year, then moved back because of the prayer group...she was bitterly disappointed because it was no longer the same!

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posted by: beaverteeth (reply)
post date: 09.24.08 (6:51 pm)

after being away from N.E Alabama for the last5 years , spending time in Jax, Fl. and now living near Atlanta,I understand.

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posted by: PastorDave (reply)
post date: 09.24.08 (7:10 pm)

Reply to: beaverteeth
I think you left a message at church, but you didn't leave a phone number. We've never invested in a caller ID at church, so I can't call you back. Call again, please, and leave a number! 770-476-1463.

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posted by: PastorDave (reply)
post date: 09.24.08 (7:11 pm)

Reply to: kurtmaddox
Go ahead and give it a try. I understand there's this crazy Maddox clan in the area. You may find some constituents among that group.

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posted by: PastorDave (reply)
post date: 09.24.08 (7:12 pm)

Reply to: barnabus1
Never the same! I know of pastors who leave a healthy and productive job with a church for a few years, and then return to find they cannot recapture the moment. Life changes. I'm not say necessarily for the better or worst. Just different.

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posted by: PastorDave (reply)
post date: 09.24.08 (7:14 pm)

Reply to: pineapples
As I get older, I more appreciate the easy-going, no rush lifestyle. If you have the choice, stick around!

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posted by: lorischuster (reply)
post date: 09.25.08 (8:22 am)

I often feel that way about my house in Goshen. The memories there overwhelm me and despite all of the sadness that occurred there, all I seem to remember and romanticize were the good things. I felt my happiest there. I tried moving back to Goshen and it was fun and exciting, but it wasn't the same--it couldn't be. I tried to recreate a euphoria that was missing several integral pieces. Thomas Wolfe said "you can't go home again" and that is for a reason. You can love it and you can dream about it but you can never relive it. I think that the magic of a place is in how you remember it and by writing it down, you keep that magic alive. None of this is to say, however, that you cannot start something new in an old and familiar place--it might even be very wonderful. I'm rambling again as I often do. I enjoyed this post very much, I felt like I was traveling with you. Sounds like a lovely road trip down memory lane.

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posted by: Barbara (reply)
post date: 09.25.08 (6:20 pm)

Well, there is that small, blue wishing well beside the road that reads "WISHS 5 cents" between Piedmont and Hokes Bluff. Maybe you could pull over and make a wish and you'd get that little white house and a nice church to go with it. I love that drive as well, especially when you approach Piedmont early in the a.m. when the mist and fog is lifting from those mountains. Wow.

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posted by: PastorDave (reply)
post date: 09.25.08 (7:40 pm)

Reply to: Barbara
I've made the drive many times and never noticed the wishing well!

What I'm trying to say, and perhaps not all that clearly, is that I really do not need that little white house and nice church. The person I have become no longer fits that situation. I'm not saying it is a bad place- it is a wonderful place for somebody, perhaps the person I would be if I had traveled a different road.

It is a nice drive. I love the hills of north Alabama, and north Georgia. I've seen the hills of northern California. They are steeper and grander, but seem to me not to have the character of this place. Of course, I'm not very objective with the matter.

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posted by: PastorDave (reply)
post date: 09.25.08 (7:43 pm)

Reply to: lorischuster
Magic is a good word. I remember and love the magic of yesterday. I recall so much of it as ideal. Of course it was not, and is not. But, what I create with my memories is very good. I'll not spoil it with too much reality.

Thanks, lori. You are a great part of this community, and your comments are always helpful and appreciated.

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posted by: spook102956 (reply)
post date: 09.26.08 (8:00 pm)

Good post! Your talking about not fitting into that pastorate stirred up memories of my being fired from a job. Lots of emotion there even though it's been 25 yrs. I was "let go" b/c I wouldn't agree to do illegal things in that job. Long story. Even though I knew then and I know now I was right and what they were asking was illegal, I still was crushed and so upset over the whole thing. If I had to do it over I would turn them in, but I was young. But it was probably the worst hurt I've ever experienced,even more than a death. Three months after I left, the main office at that job was charged with fraud. The office where I worked was not caught, but they just got lucky. It was happening there to. The whole thing shut down. But even then, knowing they got caught and knowing I was right, it still was a tremendous hurt that I was "let go". But you know what? Out of that hurt I have wonderful memories of my Mom who helped me most during that time. I was only out of work for 2 weeks. Nurses can easily find jobs in this area, but those were the most miserable 2 weeks of my life. I HAD BEEN FIRED! So embarrassed. My mom knew I was very distraught and would come to my house and pray for/with me. Now that she's been gone 16 yrs I wouldn't take for those memories. So good things CAN come out of the ugly. God Bless you when you think of your "loss" (pastorate) from long ago.

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posted by: auntconi (reply)
post date: 09.27.08 (1:05 am)

I enjoyed your trip down memory lane ~ and could almost taste the 'quarter-pounder with cheese' ~ good post!!!

How is your mother doing by the way? ~ hope all is well ~ I think I'd like her small town ~ I so do not like big cities ~ I was raised in a big city and they seem so much bigger these days ~ this old lady needs a slower pace I guess!

All the best to you and the rest of the PD family!!!
((hugs)) to Skylar ~ she is sure a sweetie!

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