I just got back from a second date with someone. It was my attempt to see if there was more than what met the eye on the first go around.

As we ate ice cream, he asked about things I like to do. And with each thing I shared, he tried to make a connection. Agreeing with my thoughts on dating, relationships and solitude. Expressing a similar taste in music and love of the outdoors and people.

Now don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with looking for common ground. It’s a part of the dating experience. But as I sat there with him, something felt amiss.

It occurred to me that my responses were being listened to more for the purpose of assessing the match and less for the purpose of knowing me as a person. In his eagerness to confirm the match, he was missing the person in front of him.

Don’t we all fall prey to this tendency at some point in our dating experiences? I know I certainly have so I can’t blame him. But it’s an approach that’ll never get us where we want to go.

Approaching dating in this way is the ultimate flawed experiment. It’s doing the test with a desired outcome in mind that dictates the way you approach the experiment and the way you interpret the results. What results is no experiment at all.

Lord, help me to approach dating as a true scientist does– with great curiosity, an unbiased, open mind, and a healthy detachment from the results. Amen.

So I’ve decided to shed light on my dating experience. If there’s anything I ought to be writing about, it should be this. Finding my life partner is perhaps the most important quest I will undertake in this life and that exploration deserves blog space to be sure.

After mourning the loss of a relationship that held no staying power last year, I ventured out into the dating scene with a surprising and unexpected hope. I was certain that there were good men out there and that I ought to meet them. And as God would have it, my reality proved my hope true.

I have met five guys in the last five months and been in touch with several others whom I have not yet met. None of those I have met have been keepers but I’m encouraged by their company and thankful to know them.

I’ve learned much in the process. I’ve discovered some personal tendencies, trigger points and insecurities that weren’t apparent to me before.  Not surprisingly so. How would I know them if I don’t put myself in spaces that would draw them out?

I’ve discovered things that are more important to me than I realized. I’ve grown in courage and confidence. And I believe this experience has played a part in helping me to find a life outside of work that is all mine. And for that, I am incredibly grateful.

I think it’s really easy to dismiss the power and impact of the journey because we become consumed with the end goal. Believe me, I’m not far removed from this tendency. I lose hope at times still because I haven’t yet reached the end goal.

But I find that reflecting on and writing about the journey somehow validates and gives it worth. There’s movement in the middle. There’s growth there and I don’t want to miss that. Lord, give me eyes to see it. Amen.

I just finished mowing my backyard, or more appropriately my back jungle. I even pulled out the weed-eater and edged it all. The entire project took me nearly three hours. Not surprisingly, my patience and positivity wore thin as time wore on.

Sammy had been attentively watching me the whole time from his perch inside at the kitchen window. When I finally finished, I debated on whether I should let him come out and play for a bit or if I should just go in and crash. I decided on the former, and it made all the difference.

Sammy came bounding out with the fresh curiosity and energy of being in a new space. He climbed the tree, ran with impressive speed from there to the patio, and stealthily edged the fence sniffing and observing every detail. He meowed to his heart’s desire and turned and cocked his head in every possible way taking it all in.

I was able, for that brief time, to see the yard through Sammy’s cat eyes as he pranced through the space and explored his newfound domain. I soon found myself lost in his wonder. The rest of the world and all my worries slipped away and all I could see was him and the beauty of the outdoors through his eyes.

Oh the wonder and innocence of pets and children who can see the beauty through the weeds and beyond the trials that often blind our older selves to the glory that exists there!

Commencement tomorrow marks the close of my first full year of working at the university. The last several months have been the busiest I’ve experienced since starting there. And as a natural consequence, I feel like my personal life has been put on hold.

One welcome release I have found during this time has been reading for pleasure (not for purpose, as is normally the case). A dear student and friend of mine introduced me to a few books that she enjoyed and I just finished the second one.

Who knew reading could be so healthy? I just had myself a good cry and my eyes are sufficiently puffy and swollen for attending the graduation ceremony tomorrow. Not fantastic timing but I wouldn’t take it back. Lord, there’s something so cathartic about a good cry.

I don’t care to rehash the storyline here. Suffice it to say the book and the emotions that followed reawakened a deep heartfelt desire of mine– that of becoming a wife and a mother.

What’s interesting is that it’s a desire that I speak of often and openly. It’s not a dream that I have repressed but one that I own without hesitation. So it’s curious that it touched me so deeply tonight.

But that’s the beauty of art– whether it’s a written piece, visual art, or spoken word. It has the ability to tap into areas that are often inaccessible in everyday life. And I regard the tears that sometimes follow these encounters as a great gift.

It’s experiences like the one tonight that remind me I’m alive and that the desire and the dream I hold in my heart is deep and real and full. And somehow the reminder of its depth acts as an assurance of its future existence. The desire itself becomes the promise.