Traffic

 

What’s a DC blog without a post about traffic?

It would be easy to fill an hour with stories about bad drivers – but I cannot in good conscience write that post.

 Traffic in a big city is just wretched; I’m not even talking about rush hour, I’m talking about the multiple lanes and the high speeds and the concrete barriers.  Spill a lot of cars into this environment, and really it’s surprising how often we walk away unscathed.  One reason why there aren’t more accidents is because there are drivers who do pay attention.  This allows a little room for stupidity, momentary distraction, and bad circumstances – without every incident ending in bent fenders and blood.

So rather than focusing on all the idiot drivers on the roads these days, I’d like to consider the drivers who are reasonably skilled and alert. 

I’m new here.  I’m trying to pay attention, but sometimes there are just so many decisions to be made so quickly, and something gives: I change lanes and cut off a fast-approaching SUV, or I don’t maintain the right speed for a smooth merge onto 495, or I take that exit off 66 too quickly and accidentally run the yield sign at Nutley Street. 

Fortunately for me, in each of the aforementioned scenarios, the attentiveness of another driver made up for my errors.  The SUV hit the brakes and did not rear-end me.  The sport car changed lanes to leave me room to merge.  The black sedan swerved.  Goodness only knows how many times I have screwed up, narrowly avoided disaster, and walked away without even realizing I’ve had a close call.

So maybe in future I will write a post about crazy motorists, but this is my shout-out to all the good drivers in DC:  I will never get to tell you in person, but thank you for saving my life. 

You are basically Batman.

 

Lost in Transit

 

 

And now a spot of DC Metro humor.

This morning's conductor must have been new. Or hung over. We'll say new.

*click* “Um.... coming up on... Falls Church.” *click*
pause while passengers ponder: which one?
*click* “....er, West.” *click*

He periodically added helpful instructions, confusing himself further:
*click* "Ladies and gentleman, doors open on..." pause *click*...
*click* "your left please keep clear of the doors thank you." *click*
*click* "Oh, uh, next station Ballston." *click*
*click* "Thank you." *click*

Then we rolled into Clarendon twice. The first time he was confident, and wrong:
*click* “NextstopClarendon, doorsopenonyourright.” *click*
...but after sheepishly departing Virginia Square, he was less sure:
*click* “.........next stop... uh, Clarendon...?” *click*

Happily, he was right that time. 

Hopefully his second day goes better. 

Or he sobers up.

Small Fish, Big Pond

Here's the thing about moving to Washington DC: I am no longer as fashionable or as accomplished or as thin or as smart as I used to be.  You're waiting for the punch-line, but it's true.  Somewhere between the Smoky Mountains and the Washington Monument, I got stupider. 

It's unnerving.

And it's a little humiliating to admit to myself how much stock I put in those things.  My home town is small.  The people are friendly and laid back: everything you think of when you hear the word 'Southern', only with a special twang that comes from the mountains alone.  They are lovely, and I miss them.  But again, it's a small town, and it turns out that means that a very little flash shines a long way.

I've been told back home that I am brilliant and a cut above the rest; that I am classy and I stand out; that I am witty and articulate and creative.  In short, that I would arrive at my destination and everything would fall together at my feet because ― how could it not?  I would always respond with appropriate humility, but it's only now that I realize how much I looked around, sized up my competition, and agreed with the praise.  "My goodness, yes, look at the shininess of me!"

There's a whole post to be written here about how "those who compare themselves among themselves are not wise", but not right now.  Today the struggle is not with a false modesty, but with honest ego.  Be careful how you perch, little bird, because here comes the bump.

Within my first week, I stood on the outer edges of at least three different conversations that I could barely follow; certainly I couldn't offer any contribution.  Politics and religion and the economy, subjects in which I considered myself reasonably proficient, all herded together and cheerfully bucked me off.   

I glance surreptitiously at city girls on the metro and am amazed by their easy fashion sense ― I can't even figure out what the pieces are, only that the whole looks fabulous. 

My pride in my vocabulary and ability to communicate falters in the face of practiced diction and professional clarity ― and as much as I love complex words, too often I can't lay my brain on the one I want.  Even more embarrassingly: all synonyms elude me.

I arrive reveling in my own ambition and nerve, and within days it is so clear: this is the city that lives and breathes ambition.  It draws talent and beauty and brilliance to itself like filings to a magnet.   For everything I do, there is someone else in easy reach who does it better ― outstripping me without apparent effort.  My ego gives a faint cough and succumbs to the inevitable.  I'm still me, but plainer and simpler and more ordinary than I ever used to think.

So here I sit, and I ask God with dazed curiosity and wounded pride, "What do you want me for?  I'm not half so useful to you here as I was back home.  Then, I had all these things to offer, and look at me now…"

And He answers me, with a gentle chuckle, "My beloved girl, why do you think I brought you here?  There's no room for me in a life that you already consider to be full.  I cannot give you gifts when you don't know what you're lacking.  I can't direct you when you think you know where you're going.  What use is a superior intellect or stunning creativity or arresting beauty if the heart doesn't have me at the center?  I notice I'm hearing from you a lot more these days.  You are beautiful because I made you; creative because I inspire you; worthwhile because I love you.  Remember when I said I used the weak things and the foolish things and the base things to do my work in this world?  Now go, my daughter: be full of grace, embrace your gifts, and be useful."

I have been created to be me, and to live my life.  My Creator gave me everything I need to do that and be that.  I can and should strive to improve, but my sense of success cannot be based on how I compare to those around me, or it will never be enough.  I'm not God's gift to mankind, Someone else was. 

And that, as my old pastor used to say, is why we call it Good News.

Bucket List

I need to make a list of all the things I want to do while I live in DC.  I have no idea how long that'll be, but if I put off doing these things, I'm almost certain to forget altogether, and then  I'll have to explain to Future Sarah why I wasted such golden proximity.

Besides, it'll be fun to see how many of these I can cross off.  Let me know if I forgot to add something good!

DC Bucket List………………………………………….

cherry blossom festival

National Cathedral

Ellicot City, MD

Post Office Tower

Georgetown

all of the art museums
Friday Night Dance at Glen Echo

Boston, MA (Freedom Trail, Independence Hall, Nathaniel Bowditch's house)

Nationals game

Monticello (Charlottesville, VA)

Dumbarton Oaks

Newsies musical (The National Theatre)

Dulles Air and Space Museum

as a kind of sub-list, here are the things I've done before, but want to do again

                National Zoo

                Mt. Vernon

                the monuments at night

                the Smithsonians (Air and Space, American History, Natural History, etc.)

                Eastern Market

                watch planes land at Gravelly Point

                U.S. Marine Corps Memorial

                Arlington National Cemetery

                Annapolis, MD 

                Library of Congress 

                National Archive 

                Botanical Gardens

 

And now I'm going to kick off my list by crossing off the first item:

cherry blossom festival

It was all of the amazing I was expecting!  Also, it was crowded.  Dan, Chloe and I had to hold hands to keep from losing each other in the metro stations.  It was neat though: all those people thronging the sidewalk to see little blossoms on trees.  I'll even admit to some sentimental 'brotherhood of humanity' moments as I looked at the solid band of people surrounding the tidal basin.  Here we all are!  ...Seriously, ALL of us. 

Other perks included several marching band performances in front of the Jefferson, and the fact that everyone looks fabulous in cherry blossom lighting.  My favorite trees are the ones that hang out over the water.  Most of them are old, their gnarled trunks making bizarre, serpentine shapes, and their low-hanging limbs threatening to clothesline unsuspecting joggers.

 

 

日本、ありがとうございました。我々はまだあなたの美しい贈り物をお楽しみください。

Nihon, arigatōgozaimashita. Wareware wa mada anata no utsukushī okurimono o o tanoshimi kudasai.

{Katy, you'll have to tell me if that's even close to being correct! 

If it's wrong... well, it's Google's fault.}

Crossing the Rubicon

This is a story about a girl named Sarah.  One year ago, she got word from Upstairs that it was time to go.  Two months ago, she finished saving up, quit her job, and packed.  One month ago, she left her home, her small town, and her entire state behind.  27 days ago, she arrived in the city, unloaded all her possessions, and waved goodbye to her parents' departing truck.  And yesterday she decided to write about it.

Why?

Because she's scared to death, and saying that out loud takes her one step closer to calming down.

Because one day the present will be the past, and she'd like to be able to look back and see what the heck her God was doing.  (Because He's on the move, make no mistake.)

Because maybe there's somebody else out there who's decided to jump in the deep end of the pool, and flailing and splashing love company.

Because the world makes more sense in words and sentences and punctuation.

Just because.