Yesterday, I packed up what was left of my life in California.

In between errands and goodbyes, I stole an hour with my friend Jennie {yes, I reposted a guest post I did for her yesterday} and her husband Zac. They like many, asked how my transition has been, what I’m leaving behind and what I took away from this season.

Unpacking it all with them, I could see God’s hand woven throughout my zig-zagging story {no one ever said He only works in straight lines and wants us to take the easiest route from point A to point B}. Thought I’d take the time to document as much for me as for those of you who choose to follow along.

How has the transition been? 

The transition has been good.

Peaceful.

Crazy but peaceful.

Candidly, I am pretty worn out and can not wait for the day when I get to get dressed by choosing clothes from a closet instead of a suitcase. I’ve been traveling A LOT. When I have been in Nashville, I’ve been fortunate to have an incredibly welcoming friend open her house to me and the pup and make sure we felt right at home.

The new job, well it’s perfect…perfect for me I mean. 

Most of my goodbyes were said weeks ago so I was surprised at the rush of emotions that tracked me down on this quick trip back to Orange County to close up shop. I suspect grief, joy, and fear will continue to sneak up on me from time to time. It’s just part of it, just part of transition.

What am I leaving behind? 

Dear friends. The good news is that it is really just a “see you later” instead of a “goodbye.” And in many cases trips to Nashville are already on the books. But I would be kidding myself to think that those relationships won’t evolve and that the distance won’t make doing life together day-in-and-day-out difficult.

The ocean and just-about-perfect weather. The good news is that I’ll get to visit from time to time and on those trips I’ll soak them up. {In the meantime, I’ll try to keep my complaining about the Nashville heat and humidity to a minimum.}

Fish tacos. No good news on this one folks!

 What did I take away from this season?  

Looking back, my time in California was…necessary. I didn’t know it at the time but it seems obvious now.

2011 was a tough year for me personally.

There was a lot of loss…aching loss. Moving away gave me distance and allowed me to enter a season of rest, reflection and ultimately restoration.

People say that time heals all wounds. I believe distance helps accelerate the healing process.

So hopefully sooner rather than later, I can settle back into Nashville, a world that I LOVE, with a joyful and expectant heart, stronger, more focused, and more equipped to tackle what God sets before me next.

What have you taken away from the season you are in? 

One week from today {if everything goes according to our very ambitious cross-country road trip plan}, Trish Davis, the pup and I will be pulling into Nashville.

I still can not believe that this move is on the horizon and getting a little bit closer each day.

The last couple of weeks have been a beautiful whirlwind. Finishing up work at Project 7, crossing items off of my California bucket list {Dodger’s Game – check, Disneyland - check, Beach Bonfire – check, Late Night Swim in the Pacific – check, Hotel Cafe - check, Wurstckuche – check, Huntington Gardens – check, Pasadena – check, Philippe’s - check and I still have 5 days left, we’ll see what else I can cram in}, house hunting in Nashville, checking out my new work digs, and enjoying some ‘down’ time with my parents who are going to miss having a daughter who lives on the Pacific.

I don’t anticipate things will slow down from here. House inspections. Oil changes and tire rotations. Packing {just enough gear to get me through a Nashville summer and trips to the beach and Africa}. And of course, goodbyes or what I prefer to call ‘see you laters.’

And Friday morning as the sun rises, we will head east. Fast and furiously towards home.

I am thankful for the friends who keep checking in and inquiring after my state of being, and the state of my heart. Truth be known, my emotions are all over the map. There is sadness, fear, and grief intermixed with joy, excitement, and contentment. I hope the journey itself will help me sort through what I am leaving behind, what I am traveling to, and what I can take with me.

What journeys do you have planned this summer?

While I have embraced the word “dude “{because dude just works}, complained about being “freezing” when the temperature was well above 50 degrees Fahrenheit, and added a ”the” before mentioning an interstate, still I am not sure I ever fully adapted to Orange County lifestyle.

Here are seven clues:

1. I never took my dog to the mall.

2. I never said the word “gnarly” and meant it.

3. I never did more than dangle my toe in the Pacific. {Well, there was the one time I had a not so graceful dismount off of the SUP.}

4. I never got comfortable parking next to a Maserati, a Bentley, a Ferrari, or a Lotus.

5. I never could choose In-N-Out over Chick-Fil-A. They stand on opposite corners about six blocks from my office and every time I was in need of a fast food fix, Chick-Fil-A.

6. I never stopped fearing the big one {aka – the earthquake that sends California floating.}

7. I never became afraid of driving in the rain {but maybe I should have, I’m not the best driver.}

What are other weird Orange County/Southern California quirks? 

As I spent time over-analyzing myself earlier today {too bad I can’t figure out how to make a career out of self-analysis…I’d be rich}, I realized that I am in the midst of a mini identity crisis. With so much new, and so little old, I am struggling to pinpoint who I am, what I think, and how to share this journey with you.

In the most simplest terms, I am in the process of discovering what remains…of me.

Without my precious pup, the church that restored my faith in God and community, the comfortable routines that filled my Nashville existence, the job and the company that I knew like the back of my hand, the conferences where I felt known and respected, and the cast of kids that I adored spoiling rotten, I feel a little lost, a little timid, and a lot unsure.

Answering questions as simple as “who are you?” and “what are you doing in Southern California?” leave me perplexed and stumbling to find words. But maybe, just maybe, that is how it should be? Maybe I don’t need to search for the answers, maybe I need to live my way into the answers?

“Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the question themselves, as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, some day far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Are you good at loving the questions? Or are you like me, searching through every nook and cranny for answers? 

Last week got off to a rough start. A funk enveloped me and I wasn’t sure I was going to find my way out.

Moving can be hard. A thirty-fifth birthday can be hard. Together they became the double whammy that did me in…at least for a couple of days.

But sometime Wednesday morning the tide turned. And instead of grieving faraway friends, failed attempts at romance, and fruitless dreams, I started seeing the love that I often take for granted.

It was everywhere once I just opened my heart wide enough to see it, and receive it.

A hijacked blog. Love.

A Facebook wall and Twitter feed full of familiar faces sharing their birthday greetings. Love.

A Skype call with my three favorite nieces. Love.

Not one, or two, but three beautiful bouquets of flowers. Love.

A leisurely birthday lunch with a team of co-workers. Love.

A post-Rooted birthday tapas celebration. Love.

The perfect birthday dessert, a “colossal cupcake” from Crumbs. Love.

A weekend with a dear friend I’ve known for the better part of the last decade. Love.

Everywhere. Love.

Even in  the suddenly dulled aching of my grief. Love.

As my sweet friend Ann Voskamp says, “All’s grace.” Yes. Love is near. We just need to open our eyes, and our hearts, and delight in Him and His gifts.

Where have you seen Love lately?  

I left Nashville four weeks ago today. And my transition for the most part has been surprisingly smooth.

That doesn’t mean that I don’t have mornings, like this one, where I wake up aching to turn the clock back four weeks and relish in a place that I know and that I feel known.

That is the hardest part about moving…the constant uncertainty. That everything, and I mean everything, is new.

Don’t get me wrong, I love exploring. I love meeting new people. And I love an adventure.

But there are days when I just want to know the fastest way to get from point A to point B. There are days when I just want to be able to stroll into church on Sunday morning and see more friends than strangers. There are days when I just want to savor old routines instead of going through the hassle of establishing new ones. And mostly there are days, when I just want to know and be known.

Have you moved? What did you think was the hardest part?

Five years ago almost to the day, I got Molly as an early 30th birthday gift. I had been debating a dog but could never seem to pull the trigger. So the boy I was dating at the time pulled it for me. Molly was 4 months old with a shiny black and white coat and a head cock that could melt your heart in two-seconds flat. Unfortunately, she was a terrible puppy. A truly terrible puppy.

Almost everyday she did the unthinkable, she peed in her sacred space, her big black wire kennel. I’d rush home from work excited to bond only to find her bouncing around in a puddle of her urine. I’d have to toss her in the sink, bathe her, and towel her dry. Not to mention a thorough scrub down of the kennel and the utility room. It wasn’t just the peeing that made her so terrible. She was a barker. She was a jumper. And she got into everything. She especially loved to shred paper so it was quite convenient that I worked for a bookstore chain and had lots of books around for her to make into piles of worthless confetti.

I seriously debated getting rid of her. She wreaked havoc on my life those first few months. The boy who had given her to me didn’t stick around. But Molly did. And she bloomed into the best dog that ever existed. Ask anyone who has met her. Molly is the absolute best. {I am pretty sure as we pulled out of town last week, she left a bigger whole in the heart of Nashville than I ever could.}

A year later I was offered a new job in a new town. So I packed up my life and my dog and headed to Nashville. I will never forget snuggling up with Molls in my empty Sylvan Park apartment as we waited for the moving vans to arrive. We were going to tackle this adventure together.

And here I am today, 4 years later ready embarking on another adventure. Only this time it seemed selfish to force her to suffer through the turmoil of the transition. So I left sweet Molly with my parents for a month or two so I can get settled before adding a dog into the mix.

Leaving her this morning was absolutely brutal. It wreaked havoc on my heart like none of my other goodbyes. I know that she is in great hands. She will be living the high life with long walks, playful scuffles with my parents’ maltese Lily, and of course bountiful trips to the lake and the pet spa.

It is me that I worry about. Molly is my partner in crime. Molly is my alarm system. Molly is who I talk to so I don’t have to admit that I talk to to myself. And Molly is the warm body that lays her head on my crook of my leg as I settle down to sleep reminding me that I am not alone.

So can I ask you to pray for me as I embark on this journey without the comfort of my sweet pup?

And will you share with me a little about your favorite four-legged friend?