Annie F. Downs - That Sounds Fun

I T S F A L L , and Im grounded from flying and traveling for work for a few months. By choice. By invitation from God. Though Im not sure what I think about that.

Over the last seven years of this career, I have racked up miles in the air like a professional, which, according to my status with Delta, I pretty much am. I love to travel. I love seeing places and being places. I love flying.

Travel has always been one of the best parts of my job. But about a year ago, I felt God whisper to me, Youre going to want to be home next fall. It felt like an invitation from Him, and with time in prayer, for me and my team of employees and managers and agents, we decided that I would spend fall in Nashville. What? Fall is my busiest time of yearconferences and events typically keep my travel schedule fully booked in autumn. And God wanted me off the road? But I heard what I heard and I agreed to obey. And so as I write these words, here I am: grounded.

For a change of scenery, I drove south from Nashville to see my family and Im posted up at my favorite Atlanta coffee spot: East Pole Coffee Company. Its bright and beautiful, and it looks like it seats about thirty people. In the corners, there are green plants hanging from the ceiling, and the vines are dangling down to the floor, almost camouflaging the electrical outlets. The coffee bar is made of a long and dark maple, and there are these really lovely scalloped white tiles climbing from the white floors to the bar.

Im sitting with my back to the windows. I like the hubbub of a busy coffee shop, and this one has constant traffic. Also, across the room at a little table for two are my cousin and his wife, who are home from abroad for just a few weeks. I like being able to see them in the same space.

I have a chai with oat milk (which, come on, milk made of oats is ridiculous and hilarious and so bougie but also delicious). The playlist I found on Spotify is a collection of instrumental classics called refreshing pieces, and Im switching between it and Jon McLaughlins instrumental music. Still, all I want to do is slam my computer shut and escape. As I was driving here, my mind started dreaming of all the places I could run to and drive to and fly to and be right now. All the other places but HERE. But if theres one thing Ive learned, its that even if I did run away, there is no getting away from my insides. Its as if the sadness has taken residence, and its not going to be left behind just because I leave.

And leaving isnt an option right now anyway. Ive stopped traveling for work for a couple of reasons, one of them being my physical health. A few months ago, I started getting migraines on almost a daily basis, and I was almost guaranteed to get one every time I flew on a plane. After months of this, my doctor put me on bed rest. Two full weeks of bed rest.

The decision to take the second half of the year off the road was sealed before I started getting daily migraines, but God knew. He knew before I did that the winter would be the winter of migraines and that a full fall calendar probably would have continued to feel invasive. While my body and heart would have been up for it, I worry my brain would not have. But theres lots more to this season off the road. I know there is.

At the start of this season, my friend Matt asked me how I was feeling about being grounded. Matt and I have similar personalities and he told me, Dont be surprised by a sense of mild depression in this season. WHAT? THAT IS NOT WHAT I WANTED TO HEAR. But even his short message whispered something to me that I havent been able to ignore. It amplified the chorus that had been singing in the background of my brain for the last few months, leading up to the season of no travel, so quiet it was barely audible. But when someone else called out the lyrics, I heard them clearly: There is something scary to me about months at home without anywhere to go. I havent done this in almost a decadebeen in my own house every night of the week for a lot of weeks.

Fast-forward to spring 2020. If I had only known that just a few months later, we would all learn what it would be like to spend endless amounts of time in our own homes as we collectively experienced the beginning stages of the COVID-19 pandemic, the first global pandemic of our lifetime. Everyone at home. No one in school or church. Most professionals no longer going into the office but working from guest rooms and couches and dining room tables. Some friends of mine thrived; some did not. We began to ask big questions of our world but also big questions about ourselves.