It’s wedding day for the cousin. Wow. The cousin I was inseparable with when I was a kid, my “twinkie” if you will, is getting hitched. Out of the original 10 cousins, this would be number five. Number six will get married in February.

That leaves four. Oh, did I mention two of those four have been in relationships for a few years? So really that only leaves two.  And I’m not the youngest either. In fact, I fall fairly near the middle.

I’m one of the two. Single.

It’s amazing how perspectives change. Four years ago I thought I would be in the same position as my twinkie. Senior year of high school I had two goals for college. I would play softball and have a guy fall so madly in love with me that he would follow me anywhere as I continued to play softball. I guess he would have to love softball too… wishful thinking. The guys that are usually on my radar are not too fond of women’s sports. I guess that narrows the playing field down to about, ohhhhh, over half the male population in the world.

Needless to say, I had a skewed view of what life would be like upon college graduation. I’d be headed to the professional softball world, the next Lisa Fernandez or Jennie Finch. Fail. And I would have a wonderful man asking my father for my hand in marriage. Epic fail.

Sounds like a sad story, but in reality it would only have been sad if that scenario had actually happened. I spent a year of college chasing the softball dream. Finally slapped myself out of that one. Then I chased the same empty future with the same sorry guy for the next two years. Dear Lord, was I blind. I knew for sure that I couldn’t waste my last year grasping for the wind. Senior year of college and my entire perspective had changed for the better. At last.

I owe a lot of that to New York. That is when I realized that the new dream of broadcast that God had brewed together, like a warm cup of hazelnut coffee drawing me in with its sweet aroma, could actually be a reality. New York is the city of dreams. “Concrete jungle where dreams are made of” as Jay-Z and Alicia Keys call it. And that it was. My playground. And suddenly my dreams seemed surprisingly tangible.

I was in love.

Not with a fleeting sport. Not with a passing boy. Not with what I thought I should be doing with my life at the time. But rather I fell head first into a passionate love affair with a career. I kindled a burning fire for the potential in me. I, in no way, thought that I had arrived. But I knew that I had finally hopped on a journey that actually has some substance to it. The sand that I’m walking on (I like to think that the “journey” we all venture on in our lives takes place on a beach) is actually real.

At some point in life I hope that a man comes in, like a great wave taking me out to sea. But for now I remain on the shore. Men come and go, much like the tide has its ebb and flow. And amazingly, for the first time in my life I’m happy with whatever happens on this beach. Whether it be making sand castles on the beach, single; being whisked away by the waves until I can no longer see the shore with someone I love; or my new favorite, splashing in the waves when they come. I’m happy regardless.

And that’s huge. Especially for me.

So tonight I raise a toast to my twinkie and his beautiful bride. They are absolutely perfect for one another and this marriage couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. They are headed out to sea, head over heels in love. I will remain on the shore.

Might I add, my sand castle is looking quite nice. I’m working on a car port and a guest house. Now, if I could just figure out how to keep the sand out of my shorts.


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