Atlanta Skyline
These words came to me this morning–words from the song by Sidewalk Prophets. As I am writing this month’s article, I am sitting in a mountain house with Dog Creek right outside my window. Not my usual abode, so that means that the rubber has hit the road! Much to the chagrin of my wonderful editor and friend, this deadline almost passed me by. I’ll be writing about this trip for months to come, if she doesn’t fire me! During the last few weeks, many opportunities have presented themselves for that to happen, which means more stories for our readers!
Atlanta is my home right now. If you’ve ever been to or through the largest city in the South, (and face it, everybody has been through Atlanta if you’ve ever flown anywhere!) you know that the Metro Atlanta area is made up of hundreds of cities and towns. During the last few months, I have been riding through various parts of this massive city as He leads me. Atlanta is a history-rich city, in layers far beyond the Civil War and Gone With the Wind.
Those layers present themselves in the most unusual way. Several weeks ago, I went to visit a new friend at Grady Hospital, a large facility in downtown Atlanta. It is a large, foreboding building with green iron structures on it. Honestly, it’s a little scary to me as far as buildings go. The area, the Sweet Auburn district, deserves a story of its own. The hospital has a certain reputation in Atlanta because it offers indigent care to a lot of the 5 million people who live anywhere in the Metro area. What it really should have is a reputation as being the only trauma center in the region that could handle a Level 1 trauma. That means that whether a disaster is man-made or natural, this facility is prepared to handle it–and handle it well.
Sadly, the hospital has not been without its issues. Like most establishments in the South, the facility has been touched by segregation throughout its history. Segregating medical care is not a topic that I wish to discuss, but it’s spiritual roots are. The friend I was visiting was an African-American gentleman from New Orleans. While visiting him, the conversation turned to this topic. We talked about how hard it must have been to work there and not be able to treat people who needed help. My thought was, what if someone wasn’t qualified to help in a situation just because their skin color was different? What if they were the only person who could help and weren’t allowed to do so? People who were born during the end of segregation take the liberties that we have now for granted due to the fight fought by others. My friend is a great Christian with the gift of discernment and compassion, and the Lord changed somethings in the history and future of Grady Hospital through the power of identificational repentance and prayer. And to think, that trip seemed unimportant that Sunday morning.
The hospital has its own museum on the first floor; and though brief, its tour is full of information and facts that explain its importance in the city of Atlanta and in our Southeastern region as well as our country. In addition, that old adage about hospital food doesn’t apply here! I highly recommend the lasagna from their multi-grilled restaurant on the second floor.
Never forget that a trip doesn’t have to take you far from home. Let yourself be open to being used by Him in your every day surroundings and life. After all, isn’t that where the rubber meets the road?
