A couple of years ago {it’s hard to believe I have been blogging long enough that I can refer to a post that I wrote a couple of years ago}, I wrote a post asking readers their thoughts on online dating. I loved hearing peoples’ opinions. They were fascinating. They were informative. But most of all they were encouraging.

And so a few months later, I decided to try to have an open mind and put myself ‘out there.’ But as quickly as I dipped my toe in the online dating pool, I decided that I wasn’t ready. I had great reasons. My life was full. My heart was otherwise engaged. And it felt truly UNCOMFORTABLE.

Online dating was something I hoped, prayed, and pleaded that I would never have to revisit. But here I am, 35-and-single and living in a town where I can count the single guys that I know on my right hand AND where I have a friend {Bianca Juarez Olthoff} who isn’t ready to let me give up on my heart’s desires. {Truth be told the second factor weighs much more heavily than the first.}

So, with some {okay, with A LOT of} poking and prodding, I have taken the plunge and now officially have a profile on one of those wacky internet dating sites. {Note: I can’t really say that I created an online profile, Bianca did most of the heavy lifting while I entertained myself with snarky commentary and an ice cold beer.}

I am trying to keep an open mind about the whole thing but right now I still am struggling with the general uncomfortable-ness of reviewing awkward pictures and clumsily edited profiles of potential suitors. So I find myself reluctantly browsing but fervently praying that I’ll stumble upon my ‘dream dude’ in some old-fashioned ‘normal’ way. {Maybe like the way I met one of my college boyfriends? With him dousing a Naty Light on me at a frat party. True story folks. True story. Not my best day but yet it provides stellar blog fodder.}

Here is where you provide any advice, commentary, testimonials, or funny stories in regard to online dating. Do share. I’m all ears. 

I have learned one thing over the last year. (Well, I’ve probably learned more than one thing but I am only going to share one thing now.)

It is my responsibility to draw healthy boundaries with the people in my life.

I can’t delegate that responsibility to anyone else. And I can’t depend on the other half of my dysfunctional friendship to draw appropriate boundaries. Drawing healthy boundaries in MY life is MY job.

If there is no fence, or any semblance of a border, around a large open space, I can’t blame a weary wanderer for trespassing. And if there aren’t established boundaries in my relationships, I can’t blame a seemingly codependent friend for overstepping confines that have never been established.

So, this is me, taking the initiative and drawing healthy boundaries in my relationships. And if anyone neglects them, then we are going to have a talk, and if they still can’t come to embrace my need for these boundaries, then I think we’ll all be better off rethinking this ‘friendship.’

Do you draw healthy boundaries for the relationships in your life? Or do you wait for someone to go a step too far and then get agitated, frustrated, and all out of sorts? 

I see myself in those kids. Especially the little girl who is trying to get to the bottom of why her mother would wrap up a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich and call it a gift. She isn’t trying to be high maintenance or particular. She doesn’t want to be disrespectful. She doesn’t want to hurt her mother’s feelings. But clearly she just doesn’t get it and she can’t hide her questions, her disappointment, and her frustration.

I don’t want to seem ungrateful. I don’t want my disappointment to be misconstrued for lack of love, faith, or even trust. I don’t want to want what I don’t have.

I know that I have received gifts many people would die for. A great job. A welcoming community. A beautiful place to live. An opportunity to speak into the lives of others. But while they are more than I deserve, they aren’t what my heart so primally desires. And some days what my heart desires feels farther away than ever. To be known. To find a person to share my life with. To raise kids. To leave a legacy of love.

So here I sit, wrestling, negotiating, pleading. Wondering why He is withholding ‘the good stuff’? Wondering why the desire lies in waiting? And wondering why I can’t continue to feign gratitude about my ‘half-eaten sandwich’?

 What are you feigning gratitude about? What are you wrestling over? 

Let me go on record saying it is hard it is impossible to squeeze 4 years of friendships and 4 months of life lived apart into 4 days. 

As my Southwest flight traverses back across the country carrying me to my new-and-lovely but not-so-homey-as-Nashville home, I feel exhausted and energized, relationally blessed but emotionally drained, conflicted yet peaceful.

Here are 4 observations on my 4 years, 4 months and 4 days.

1.  I left an extraordinary community, an extraordinary life, behind when I left Nashville 4 months ago. There was quantity. There was depth. There was variety. There was familiarity. There was authenticity. And there was accountability. As I sat around the dinner table this week, as I lingered over lunch, and as I sipped on skinny vanilla lattes, it all came back. Just how blessed I am to have found people who loved me well for 4 years and continue for fight for me and my dreams.

2. In the midst of a major transition, it can be difficult remaining in today and being thankful and present to the here, and the now. Yep, it can be difficult, but it is also essential. As much as I loved being in Nashville for 4 years, as much as I loved being there for the last 4 days, my here-and-now is in Southern California. And my heart, and my mind, and my hope, need to embrace that  sunny-and-70-degree reality.

3.  It takes time to build an abundant life in a new place. I have been extremely blessed in the 4 months that I have been living in Southern California. Friends have come out of the woodwork to walk alongside me, to break bread with me, and to pick me up from the airport. But I need to keep working towards, to keep investing in, building the type of community that I cherished in Nashville.

4. But mostly importantly I know this truth that I sang with tears streaming down my face Sunday morning at Cross Point. “I know my God made a way for me. It’s gonna be alright!” 

How did you ring in the New Year? 

There is something so retrospective about the last days of the year. Any unoccupied moments leave my mind wandering to this time last year.

My hopes. My dreams. My fears. And my expectations. For the holidays. And for the year which laid ahead, and now is quickly turning into history.

Certain scenes while once typical, now seem acutely pivotal, shuffling through my head on repeat.

Casual cups of coffee that changed the course of my days. Conferences that stripped me bare and sent me home overexposed. Conversations that inspired me to leap. And conversations that stole my courage and left me searching for the nearest cocoon.

The moments that have the most significance now are ones that I haven’t shared, or that have only been shared with a handful of dear friends. The actions, and sometimes the emotions, they evoke is the only fodder that is worth divulging.

Embarking on an adventure with close friends. Completing a half marathon. Learning everything I can, and then some, about orphan care. Seeing a counselor. Resigning from a safe and secure job. Cherishing time with my family. Moving across the country.  And scrambling to create some semblance of a well-rounded life in a new time zone.

The rest?

It’s just the stuff that memories are made of. It’s just the stories behind the songs, that compile the soundtrack of my life.

Have you found yourself being retrospective as 2011 comes to a close? Any realizations you want to share?

I know. I know. I am a little early to the party with this one.

But inspiration struck as I drove home tonight, and since inspiration has been MIA lately I thought we’d take it and run with it.

Here we go. 11 lessons that I learned, a few the hard way, in 2011:

1. ‘Cold’ is relative. Somehow the 40s really do feel quite unbearable in California. {Thankful we don’t see a lot of them.}

2. A crush is called ‘a crush’ for a darn good reason.

3. When it sounds to good to be true, it probably is.

4. There is something unmistakably lovely and unusual about the fall in the South. College football, brisk mornings, and glorious foliage should not be taken for granted.

5. ‘Ay de mi!’ is a term of exclamation that we learned in Spanish class, but not one that is used by any real Spanish speakers.

6. God is more concerned with who we are becoming than what we are doing. {Pretty sure I have learned this one before and will be learning this one again. It’s a good thing I am surrounded by friends that won’t allow me forget it.}

7. Life is better lived in the company of a great dog.

8. The Pacific Ocean is breathtaking, even when you see it everyday.

9. Moving cross-country creates moments where exuberant joy and poignant grief collide, often leaving you confused and speechless.

10. Friends come in and out of our lives. While it’s hard to see them walk off stage, it is so fun to see what scene they show up in next.

11. Entering our ‘promised land’ is not necessarily the big red bow neatly tying up the end of our story. We will still have to fight combat fear, grieve our past, and learn to stop trying to go at it our way and embrace complete surrender.

 Now it’s your turn. What’s one lesson that you have learned in 2011?  

It’s incredible knowing that for every product we sell tangible good is being done in the world.

Feed the Hungry products provide 7 meals in US communities.
Save the Earth products plant trees back into the earth.
Heal the Sick products provide medical treatments for a person suffering from malaria.
House the Homeless products provide shelter for a day for an orphan.
Hope for Peace products provide a day of counseling for a child of war.
Teach them Well products provide a week of schooling for a child in Africa.
Quench the Thirsty products provide clean water for a person for a year.

This holiday, as you pull together gifts for your loved ones, I’d love to encourage you to give products that give back. That way you’re giving not just one gift, but two. Not just products from Project 7 (although our gum, mints, and frac packs are the perfect filler for any stocking), but also from other great organizations like Krochet Kids, TOMS, 31 Bits, etc. Every purchase can make a difference!

Also, please consider blogging, tweeting or Facebooking to spread the word about Project 7 and other products for good?

Check out the Project 7 online store and don’t miss our holiday assortment.

What gifts that give back on your holiday list this year? 

After more than two months, we reunited. And it feels so good.

For the last few days we’ve just been enjoying each other’s company. We have snuggled up on the couch enjoying Hallmark Christmas movies {our favorite, okay maybe they are my favorite, but Molly never complains}. We have walked the beaches of Orange County. We have met some new friends.

And we are just getting started. We have a brand new state to explore.

Welcome to California Molls. I love doing life with you!

What have you, and your pets, been up to?  

It’s hard, you know?

Waking up in a new apartment, in a new city, in a new state, in a new culture, throwing on new clothes {the weather and the casual Orange County atmosphere necessitate}, heading into a new job with new co-workers and a new boss, and escaping in the evening to grab a quick dinner at a new restaurant before going to a new small group at a new church. Nothing is familiar. It’s all new. It’s disorienting. And it’s hard. Click here to continue reading. 

Lately I have been oddly intrigued by the idea of liminal space.

Liminal space is a place where boundaries dissolve and we stand on a threshold, getting ourselves ready to move across the limits of what we were into what we are to becoming.

It seems like there should be a finite moment between here and there.

But it is quite impossible to pin down. With no clear beginning. And with no clear end.

Sometimes I lay in bed and try to decipher when the threshold first appeared. Was it when life in Nashville began to get alarmingly comfortable? Was it my first trip out to California when God began planting seeds of friendship? Was it the conversations at Q that made me start questioning my purpose and His plan? Was it the coaching group that forced me week-after-week to revisit my restlessness? Or was it this summer when I decided to pack up and head to California to work with Project 7? When exactly did I start transitioning?

And sometimes I lay in bed and try to decipher when the threshold will be crossed, when I will have “arrived.” Because although I am physically here, I still can’t begin fathom who I will become, or what life might look like, in this next chapter.

Yet these questions are futile.

Surely I will slip across this threshold one day. Just as surely as another threshold will appear.

“We do not think ourselves into new ways of living, we live ourselves into new ways of thinking.” ― Richard Rohr

Are you in a period of transition? Can you pin down when it began or when it might end?