Lord, I'm Coming Home to You!

Lynyrd Skynyrd is coming to a local casino in a few weeks.  A few weeks ago, the ads featuring “Sweet home Alabama, Lord, I’m coming home to you” aired on the TV.

Those lines danced through my head for a few days, and they were mighty present when a friend/consultant said, “Oh, hey, we (the firm she works for) are up for a job in Alabama.” We were at lunch and my new hire – just four days into her job – was with us. I tried to play it cool, “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

A week later airline tickets and hotels were booked for a quick trip to Mobile for me and the co-president of the public relations firm – a company I have wanted to work at for two years. We planned and interviewed and hoped.

A few weeks later - and Sweet Home, I’m coming. And this time, I’m not leaving.

I have been busy manifesting things for the last few months: alternative work schedules, good seats at fancy restaurants, new clients, etc. For a year or so, I’ve been wondering how I would land a job where I would be based in both Alabama and Seattle. I want to be at the beach and away from big city life.

I needed the job to come no sooner than July 2017. 

On June 30, we got the call that we got the contract and I got the job.

I’ll be moving to South Alabama in August. For the next 18 months, I’ll be working on public relations for the Mobile River Bridge – returning to the same Chambers of Commerce and community groups I attended during my BP days.  At the same time, I’ll be using my 17 years of Alabama connections to grow the firm in the region. (Battle for Alabama, can I get a what what?)  In addition, I’ll be using my coaching at work.  I mean seriously.  SERIOUSLY.  Oh, and I’ll come back to Seattle on a regular basis.

Fear, excitement and pure joy consume me. Thanksgiving, beach nights, lake weekends, WhistleStop, Mardi Gras, long talks on comfy couches, watching babies grow up – Lord, I’m coming home to you.  I feel overwhelmed and unworthy and capable and deserving all at once. 

I enjoyed my time in Seattle, but more and more it didn’t agree with me. The lengthy commute, the expensive living, the constant bombardment of homeless and filth, and the terrible winters wore on me. I loved Seahawk games, my tennis friends, the exhilaration of tall buildings and busy crowds. My love for my family deepened. But the day-to-day isn’t for me.

I will look at these three years as a time of unprecedented growth: socially, professionally and personally.  

Here comes your lesson:  the Universe, God, whatever you call it, loves you. You must work hard and be solid in your faith. You must accept that you are brilliant, capable, whole, resourceful, determined and worthy. You must be steadfast in your desires. And you must never give up.

I feel like I’ve been punched in the face but at the same time, my heart is on fire.

There’s a secret to being a commuter on the light rail train here. I work at the far south side of downtown. By the time the train gets here, there’s no seats heading south. What I do is get on the northbound train and ride it up to Westlake Center. Get out, cross over to the southbound platform and you’re guaranteed a seat. You see, you must go north to land properly in the south. I had to come to Seattle to land properly in Alabama. 

I am so ready to land.


Sweet Home.  I’m coming. For good. 

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