I’ve been home from Scotland for three and a half months. Who can believe that? Not I, said the blogista.
Lucky for me, Scotland still comes up in conversation pretty often. I often get to talk about my friends there, what Crossroads Church is doing, and how I’ve adjusted to being home. [Pretty well, I think, by the way. Thanks for asking.] A lot of times people ask, “what did you miss the most about Nashville?”
When someone asks that question, I answer every time with this story.
. . . . .
About three nights after I got back to Nashville in December, a group of friends went to dinner together. In fact, we walked from our street, bundled up in coats and scarves, to Burger Up, a favorite restaurant here in town. The tables are long and you sit family style, which our neighborhood totally loves. It was dark and cold outside, but warm and cozy inside. Candles lit [in mason jars I think?] glowed on each table and the hubbub of a full restaurant was beautiful to my ears. The food was delicious [I almost always get the local salad with grilled chicken] and my friend Kris waited on us. He never acts like he is at work, he acts like he’s just glad to get some food for his friends.
Our table backed up to the bar and I looked over my shoulder at the sound of my name. Two guy friends of mine just happened to be eating too and had just realized I was there. I hadn’t seen them since I got home, so I hopped up and hugged the mess out of them both. Within minutes, another crowd of friends came in the door to eat as well and when I saw them, and looked around at my friends, and knew the boys were behind me, this thing happened on my insides at that moment.
I can’t explain it. There aren’t words. It isn’t like fireworks went off in my guts, but it kinda was. There was just about something being in a restaurant that feels like home and having your people, unplanned, all file in one after the other just because they love eating there. It was too much for my fresh-from-the-UK emotions to handle. I teared up right there at the table.
And then the owner, Miranda, walked over and put her hands on my shoulders, leaned down and said, “I’m glad you are home.”
And I was a puddle.
That’s our neighborhood. That’s our BurgerUp. Those kind of nights are what I missed the most when I was in Edinburgh.
I am so glad to be home.
. . . . .
A terrible tragedy happened this weekend at BurgerUp. There aren’t words- it is just heartbreaking. Please take a minute today and pray, really pray, for Miranda and the family of BurgerUp. This verse, this promise, has been on a loop in my mind as I think of and pray for Miranda and the staff and our neighborhood.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.
. . . . .
Next time you are in Nashville, let’s meet up and grab a bite at BurgerUp – as I told you a few weeks ago, you will love everything about the food. And the people. And the company [wink.. that's me].
Sending lots of love to Miranda and the BurgerUp family… y’all have made this neighborhood a better place.