I’ve watched her give up (prematurely) on telling me a story because she realized she’s going to have too much trouble recalling the words that she’ll need to verbally sketch out an effective picture to get her point across.

We’d kinda planned that we’d have some space of our own by now. But the Airbnb didn’t work out. From the start the whole ordeal felt like nudging a boulder toward higher ground. Wrong unit. Still uncleaned from previous guests. Flooded bathroom. A nest of angry wasps that made quick work of my exposed skin and continued their attack up my pant legs and sleeves.

So here I am. Not knowing exactly what to do to be helpful, I’m just kinda here now—helping keep the kitchen clean, just being around. Saving the day one clean dish at a time.

Maybe because inside many of us, we’re constantly taking stock of what we know to be true about ourselves and what we’re still discovering. Evaluating the data, snapping into place each piece of the puzzle that brings into focus the picture of who we are and how we’re meant to contribute to the world. Like sitting down at the Cheesecake Factory, leafing through its 45-page menu, and trying to narrow down a meal choice. Knowing we hate fish, we avoid anything with seafood. But that still leaves a lot of options that could be delicious.

Maybe it’s because it’s downright ridiculous to be anyone except your unvarnished self with someone who’s known you back when posters of rock ‘n roll hair bands adorned high school bedrooms. Someone who was as relentless in her application of Aqua Net as you were. Someone with whom you spent decades swigging box wine while lamenting broken hearts over boys with mullets.

Of course, if I were having this conversation out loud, I’d throw in a gratuitous anecdote or two so she really understood the extent of my grace under fire. She’d marvel at my ability to remain so calm while all of my earthly belongings were in complete disarray. But before I could open my mouth to manipulate this stranger’s perception of me, I stopped.

But while almost nobody on this earth could be a Diana (this would involve a meeting and marrying a prince, and securing the influence and resources of the crown), anyone could become a Mother Teresa.

I wonder how easily we give up because we undervalue process. Not understanding that's how we create room for our new ideas. Ideas that grow into the little lots and spaces we're responsible for tending in life. Plots that bring us joy as we caretake them well.

So, no advice on resolutions, just sharing with you the way I thought through my own pockets of life and the questions I’ve been asking myself as I move into this fresh year. In case it’s helpful, I also added my own actions/answers to these prompts.

“Train me like a real athlete,” I said. “I’m your Karate Kid, you’re my Mr. Miyagi!” I almost said. Fast forward 4 weeks, working with the Sensei has taught me more than correct form and rope pulls.

"When I decided to quit alcohol, I was clueless. I didn’t see myself as having a problem but, at the same time, I knew something was wrong. Alcoholism runs in my family and I never saw myself in some of my relative’s shoes. I didn’t drink and drive, I wasn’t arrested for fighting in a bar. You know the things, that Hollywood and society classifies as a drinking problem or glorifies."

"...I lacked self-confidence and motivation and never felt good enough; or settled in to what felt most comfortable. I also always wanted to be a mom and a housewife, and I love taking care of others and making them feel special, but in the midst of things I lost myself. So, this podcast launch was for me a big rejuvenation."