Tag Archives: Stone Mountain

Ten Atlanta Features I’m Going to Miss

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On December 31st a United moving van will pull into Dunnington Circle and stop at our driveway. By the time the New Year’s ball drops in Times Square later that night, the contents of our house will be on their way to a holding facility somewhere in North Carolina (at some point Tim and I should probably ask where, exactly, in NC), where they will remain for the next four to six months while we get to know our new home city of Washington, D.C. It just feels so right to me that our new adventure should begin on the very first day of a brand new year. I love new beginnings!

As we prepare to take our leave of this great Southern city, here are ten Atlanta features that I’m definitely going to miss:

1. First Baptist Church of Decatur  10854234_10102121348068353_5122813251598199324_o
I love this gifted, welcoming, risk-taking, gospel-focused, Christ-embodying congregation more than I know how to express. It was an honor to walk alongside them for eight years.

2. Living Near Mom IMG_1482
For twenty-five years, my mother and I lived between 1,100 and 3,000 miles from each other. In 2008 she moved from her long-time home in Orlando to a sweet little house just two miles from our place in Atlanta. Having her nearby has been such a treat. Mom volunteered in our church office, tutored Lucy in middle-school, provided transportation for Taylor, showed up at our door with countless home cooked meals and dog-sat for the dear departed Willie Boy. Mostly, it’s just been a comfort having the wonderful Barbara Pennington in my life on a daily basis. Pray for my mama who is embarking on an adventure of her own as she prepares to move back to her old stomping grounds in Florida.

3. The DeKalb Farmers Market dekalb-2
Got a hankering for the taste of dirty gym socks? Look no further than the DFM for a Durian fruit. Or maybe a Horned Melon, Mexican Pitaya or Buddha’s Hand. Don’t panic, they also sell broccoli and bananas. But it’s the exotic stuff that sets them apart—that, and the global community working and shopping there. On my first visit, back in 2007, I stood in the check-out line behind an ancient black woman with tattooed arms and long braids down her back, wearing a Bob Marley t-shirt and reading Jean-Paul Sartre. I knew I’d be coming back.

4. Stone Mountain Version 2
Climbing Stone Mountain expands my soul and kicks my tail—every. single. time. (Read here about my experience of climbing the mountain 50 times in 2010.)

5. Community Q BBQ Mac & Cheese IMG_4002
Mouth-watering, diet-busting heaven on a plate.

6. Wild Oats & Billy GoatsIMG_2675
An eclectic little folk art gallery across from Decatur Square became my guilty pleasure while I served at First Baptist. Whenever I needed a break from the office I’d spend 20 minutes rummaging around Wild Oats & Billy Goats, feeling completely restored afterwards. Tim gave me this cow for Christmas in 2014, painted by Sandy Erickson Wright. I’ve dubbed it “the face of kindness”.

7. The City of Decatur showdocument
“Mayberry meets Berkeley” sums it up perfectly. I’ve loved being surrounded by this progressive, compassionate, mishmash of humans.

8. My Clergy Peer Groups IMG_0218
I’ve been part of two groups. My interfaith clergy peer group met mostly on the picket line. We rallied together around issues of gun violence, Medicaid expansion, living wages for migrant farm workers and religious liberty. These rabbis, imams, priests and pastors inspired me more than they can possibly know.

My Baptist pastor peer group met every month at McAfee School of Theology. We mostly held the ropes for one another and prayed each other through the ups and downs of church life. Once, during a particularly difficult time at my own church, my peer group delivered to my office a bottle of bourbon named for the 17th century Baptist preacher Reverend Elijah Craig. I can report that Rev. Craig ministered faithfully to Tim and me for several months.

9. Siggers Hairdressers Version 2
I have thin, limp, potato-colored hair. Chad Siggers makes it appear less so. Gracias, Chad.

10. Black Bear Mountain Slippers and coffee in the Georgia mountains
Okay, this one’s not in Atlanta. But this mountain retreat just two hours north of the ATL has been a sacred place for Tim and me for six years—thanks to our dear, generous friends, Chuck and Bob.

Thanks for the memories, Atlanta! We’re glad to have known you. Grace and peace, y’all…

Lessons from Stone Mountain

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Julie on Stone MountainIt all started with my teeth. A couple of years ago I was reclining in the chair of my dentist, Dr. Uetsuki, waiting for the nitrous oxide to kick in.

Are you doing anything special for New Year’s? he asked through his blue paper mask.

Nothing out of the ordinary, I said.  Just black-eyed peas for luck.

Have you ever climbed Stone Mountain?

Well, I’ve been meaning to.

My wife and I climb Stone Mountain every New Year’s Day, he said. To watch the sun rise.

I listened with interest as he described the ancient Japanese custom of marking the “firsts” in any given new year. Every first of January, throngs of Japanese men, women and children travel to the coast or to a mountain to observe Hatsuhinode—the first sunrise of the new year.

Could I?

In that moment an idea was born. With my 50th birth year just days away I found myself wondering:  “Could I make it up Stone Mountain fifty times?”

Twelve months later my 50th birth year passed into history as I completed climb number Five-O in the afternoon of New Year’s Eve.

During that year I stood atop Stone Mountain beside pools of ice and under a sun so hot, I swear you could fry bacon on that rock. I climbed at sunrise, sunset, noonday and once under a full moon.  I climbed alone and I climbed with kinfolk, church friends, neighbors and houseguests from around the world.

I spent a year schlepping myself up and down Atlanta’s most famous piece of granite and I have news:  Stone Mountain is a treasure. Climbing the mountain gave me some marvelous gifts that year, among them these memorable lessons:

Lesson One:  There is big value in feeling small.

Standing on a piece of rock that pre-dates me by a few million years and will still be there long after I’ve entered the cloud-boat, as Mary Oliver puts it, has a way of putting perspective on some things. Like the size of my troubles, for instance. The shape of my priorities. The difference between the truly important and the merely urgent. My place in God’s bigger picture.

Lesson Two:  Everyone needs to stand on top of something.

A mountain can be a great metaphor for life. The physical act of ascending a mountain brings a sense of overcoming, not only the rock itself, but other obstacles as well. Some challenges we face are relatively minor: Irritating people. Frustrations at work. Everyday stress. Others are more daunting. In May, on the day when my husband’s brother took his life, I stood on the summit, shook my fists in the air and shouted at death: “You don’t get the final word down here!”  In some mysterious way, my feet seemed planted not only on the crest of that mountain, but also on the neck of everything that wants to break us down here:  Depression. Cancer.  Addiction. Death.

Lesson Three:  Some moments are meant to be savored, not seized by the lapels.

I lean toward the sin of workaholism. Sometimes I’m so busy maximizing the moment that I lose sight of this cardinal rule:  When it comes to life, you must be present to win.

During one of my climbs early last spring I was marching up the stone trail, iPhone in hand, fielding calls and sending text messages. Somewhere near the top, during a water break, I caught sight of a Red-Tailed Hawk circling overhead, every movement of his wings so effortless, so graceful. As he swooped near the place where I stood jabbing at my phone, I thought I saw him shake his head and roll his steely eyes at me, as if to say, “What’s the point?”

No Time Like the Present

I heartily recommend the practice of marking each year in some intentional way. If you’ve never tried it before, there’s no time like the present—it’s not too late. Here are some possibilities:

Plant a garden. Run a marathon. Finish writing that book. Try talking to God. Try listening to God. Forgive somebody. Forgive yourself. Climb a mountain. There are a million ways to bow your head and say thanks for the gift of life.

Originally published in the Atlanta Journal Constitution January 9, 2011.