Georgia on Her Mind(69)

“Then what are you waiting for?”

A lightning bolt, a clap of thunder? How about a shooting star or maybe a rare comet bearing my name?

Adriane tells me to return to Beauty at the beginning of my fast, and now Dylan says it at the end? More than mere coincidence?

But where’s the booming confirmation to move to Chicago? Hmm? Come on, God.

Returning to Beauty, a place I couldn’t wait to leave, would be like doing a mile on the treadmill when I know I can do two, maybe three. Jogging a mile is good, some days downright amazing. But pushing my body to jog two is an accomplishment. Jogging three is outstanding. Chicago is like the three-mile jog.

“Macy?” Dylan calls me, his voice full of soothing intonations.

“I’m here. Just thinking.”

“Are you thinking you can’t move back to a place you couldn’t wait to leave?”

Creepy. How does he do that? “Well, sorta. I don’t want to take the easy way. Chicago is unbelievable, Dylan. My dream job. If I move back to Beauty, am I quitting?”

“Quitting what?”

“My life. My dreams.” I stoop to pick up the water glass.

“What dreams do you think you’re giving up, Macy?” He leads me, draws me out.

“Life beyond Beauty. Being a successful businesswoman.” I grab a wad of paper towels and mop up the floor.

“Maybe it’s time to see life from Beauty.”

“Maybe.” I toss the wet paper towel in the trash.

“Look, focus on what God is saying now. Life happens in stages. Sometimes you’re running at Mach ten, other times you’re sitting on the front porch watching the sun set.” He sounds so experienced and wise. “And Mace, from what I can tell, running Moore Gourmet Sauces would make you a very successful businesswoman.”

“Good point.” The more he talks, the better I feel. “Thanks for your sound advice.”

“Anytime.”

Dylan’s advice echoes over the valleys of my mind as I grab my wallet and car keys.

My heart and head are all over the place by the time I get to the grocery store. I couldn’t be more wired than if I stuck my finger in a light socket and drank a gallon of coffee. I’m in the checkout line with three gallons of ice cream (indecision reigns), two cases of Diet Coke, a bag of celery and a bag of apples (cancels the guilt from the ice cream) when Lucy rings my cell.

“Where are you?”

“Supermarket. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“What’s taking you so long?” In the background Jack asks her what she wants to eat.

I give her the quick explanation of my call with Dylan, to which she responds, “Ooh, la, la.”

“Stop,” I retort. “I have to run home first. I bought ice cream.”

“Good grief, girl. We’ll talk when you get here.”

Over dinner, Lucy and Jack come to the same conclusion as Adriane and Dylan. Return to Beauty.

I sigh and snap the lid off my chicken salad. “Chicago is too incredible to turn down.” I’m being stubborn, I know.

What I need is challenging what I want.

“If you ask me, Beauty is too incredible to turn down. You have way more opportunities there, Mace. The six-figure salary can’t buy love, or peace, or contentment.”

I concede with a soft “Maybe.”

Lucy grins. “Sometimes it’s okay to let your heart decide. It’s not about appearances, or climbing the corporate ladder or living up to your reputation. Say yes to your heart. Return to your first love.”

I get what she’s saying. It’s what she told me months ago when Chris and I broke up. Returning to my hometown will enable me to return to a deeper relationship with Jesus. The rest is gravy.

By eleven, I’m exhausted, stuffed and ready for bed. I pick up my journal from the day I tried to get a tan and burned myself to a crisp. I open to the list, the list.

Things I want in a husband

Committed to Jesus

Handsome (at least to me.) Sense of humor

Sense of seriousness

Kind

Rich

Poor

Somewhere in between rich and poor Love fast food

Love my family

Nice teeth (I have a thing about teeth. Ever since junior high hygiene class.) Loyal (Chris was not)

Smart; common sense

My best friend



I dig for a pen in my nightstand drawer. Reading the list one more time, out loud, I add another item. In big bold letters: “Dylan Braun.”

Shocked by my self-confession, I rip out the page, and there is my other list.

Things I want in a job

Attila-free zone

Mike-free zone

Respect

Respect (worth repeating)

Opportunity for growth

Challenging and creative environment More money

Good money (as long as the work is satisfying) Cozy office

Decision maker

God first, work second



Oh, wow. I’d forgotten about this list. I read it again. It sounds way more like Beauty than Chicago.

Okay, God, what are You saying to me? Do I return to Beauty? Please…clap of thunder, bolt of lightning here.

I kid you not. In the distance I hear the rumble of thunder. I scramble out of bed and peek out my window, clutching a pillow. It’s dark, I can’t see much, but the stars do not twinkle along the horizon.