Wrapping it all up with a neat little bow,,,

Okay. It's taken a little longer than I'd anticipated.

In some ways, the summer in Centennial Hall feels like a fading dream. I'm thankful to have this blog as proof that I did indeed spend eight weeks in my old dorm learning to design for the web and play classical guitar. I've been back to work for almost 3 months, and I've compiled the blog's content and shared it in a variety of forums at Hallmark.

In the unlikely event you haven't seen or heard one of these dog-and-pony shows, I imagine you're thinking, "Good for you. You created a blog. Give me something I can use."

This is a valid request, and in response, I've identified the six lessons of my summer:

1. Never name the adventure before you have the adventure.

Before I even left for the University, I was asked to provide a name for the presentation I'd give upon my return. My title, "Fun, Fearless, and Foolish," seemed like a reasonable option at the time, but in fact, the sabbatical provided insights and experiences much more meaningful than that glib phrase suggests.

I'd unrealistically expected dorm life to be not-too-different from my party girl days in 1976, or possibly a 21st century version of "The Facts of Life," with me as the wise and trustworthy house mother to a group of angst-ridden co-eds.

While I did get to know some members of the millennial generation, and we did share some laughs and good conversation, we didn't achieve the kind of camaraderie I'd envisioned. I decided let go of those expectations and instead tried to approach every day completely unsure of what would happen next. It's the closest I've ever come to being "in the moment." And it felt great. Uncomfortable for someone with significant control issues. But great.

I've been trying to sustain that mindset post-sabbatical, but it's a difficult path for me to take. At the moment, I'm working on letting go of my holiday expectations and enjoying each moment for what it is.

2. Generational empathy. It's tricky.

One of my goals for the summer was to observe my new friends in the millennial generation and compare their experience in Centennial to mine in the 1970s. As marketers, we tend to assume that 20-something people are continually texting and poking at their Blackberries, completely ignoring physical reality.

I'm happy to report that this stereotype did not hold up among the people I met this summer. Some kids text a lot and some don't, just as some of my co-workers are Blackberry addicts and some aren't.

I found the millennials I met to be much more serious students than I was at their age. There was very little drinking in the dorm. These kids were busy, working one or two jobs in addition to carrying hefty class loads. People weren't loitering in lounges cooking up mischief. Music was generally quiet. It made me wonder how much more I would have learned if I were getting my BA now.

Many kids were thousands of miles from home. (Three of my friends were from China, Singapore, and Cameroon). They embraced their adventure with courage and grace and (apparently) less homesickness than I was feeling.

it's easy to devolve into stereotyping people based on a very limited statistical sample. The summer reinforced my feelings about generational issues: It's more fruitful to focus on the journey we share than to make blanket statements dividing us up using arbitrary criteria. We're all human beings, and we can all learn from each other.

When people share a task, a mission, or a dream, regardless of the people's generations, they work together to get things done.

I feel fortunate that Hallmark is a place in which generations work and play together. We may have different backdrops for our lives, but we're all humans doing our things.

3. Dare to be human.

Anywhere from 10 to 150 people a day checked in on the blog, Through Google analytics, I was able to track the traffic. The People's Choice award, both for the number of hits and the number of comments I received, goes to "E-Z Cheezee," the post in which I ramble on about the wonder of aerosol cheese.

I didn't follow up asking why people liked it, but I'm pretty sure it has to do with my willingness to be vulnerable and look like a dork. Although after looking at it a few times, I'm thinking it may be that somebody saw this video and then called all his friends and said, "Go look at Molly's blog for today and see if you think she's stoned."

On a more serious note, the "When Worlds Collide" post also struck a chord with readers of my blog. In this post, I told about my difficulties re-entering family life after a summer on my own. I was hesitant to publish this one, because it paints a not-too flattering picture of me as a wife and family member. But people were kind, understanding, and even grateful that I shared this ugly little incident.

I think in our public lives (work, school, community) we sometimes feel compelled to be perfect straight-A people, when in fact those around us benefit and learn from our willingness to show our human sides.

As a blogger, i repeatedly find that the things I'm most reluctant to share are the most appreciated by my readers.

4. People really want to be heard.

As a Hallmark writer, I sometimes take for granted that the words I write and the products I help create will be read and appreciated by consumers. It's one of the most rewarding aspects of the job.

Blogging affords that same opportunity to everyone on the web. We all want to have our say, and to have people listen and respond. The variety of responses to my posts (from family, co-workers, old friends, and total strangers) was gratifying for the same reason.

It makes me think I need to be a better communicator, and probably should talk less and listen more with my family and at work.

And if I can listen for the meaning beneath people's comments and questions, I'll be a better friend and co-worker and I might even learn something!

5. Everybody's brave. Nobody's fearless.

"Wow you're brave." That's one of the most frequent comments I've gotten about my sabbatical. And for a few days I sort of believed it. Because after all, there I was, miles away from the home and work I love, mixing it up with people a third my age.

But as I'd head out to class every day, I witnessed examples of bravery that made my little caper seem like child's play. I saw families taking their children to the cancer hospital next to my dorm. I spoke with students who were 3,000 miles from home and hadn't seen family in over a year. I met a young Iraqi vet who was dealing with post-traumatic stress disorder. I saw Muslim women in birkas being pointed at by frat boys. I spoke with instructors who wondered if they'd ever get tenure. I had coffee with a young woman whose financial aid disappeared after the first week of school. I visited with old friends dealing with their parents' Alzheimer's disease. I saw a ten-year-old boy being bullied in excluded during a youth soccer camp.

It really got to me. You just never know what people are going through. Again, at Hallmark or any corporation, we tend to put on our game faces and leave them on the whole time we're at work. And as compassionate human beings, we need to remember that we don't know for sure what anyone is going through.

It's our job to honor the courageous journey people make every day. Not because they're fearless, but because they are human and fear is part of the deal. They are heroes who are finding the courage to embrace their journey.

6. It feels good to belong.

This is the part where I thank everyone who supported this exploration, either with paper cards or blog comments or just a supportive thought thrown my way.

My brother and sisters and their families were loyal supporters and lifelines during my whole sabbatical.

My brother Jim's family, hearing that I have a problem with "the Sunday night blues," invited me to every Sunday's family dinners.

Lisa, my younger sister, has a condo in Minneapolis. She gave me the key and invited me to use her beautiful space as a fortress of solitude whenever dorm life got to me. She was a frequent commenter and cheerleader on the blog as well. Lisa and I shared some great nostalgic moments, and I'm grateful that she and her husband Dave introduced me to their fascinating and kind friends.

My sisters Sally and Melanie and their husbands arranged their schedules so we could have a reunion when I was in town. We don't get together as often as we should, so I'm grateful that we made it happen this summer.

My Hallmark friends also were incredible sources of support. I've worked for several corporations and freelanced for fifteen years. I know that the culture of friendship we share at Hallmark is something we really get right.

During my first Hallmark interview in 1979, Ed Cunningham, the writing manager, told me that the company's mission is to "Help people be nicer to each other."

I felt that kindness in the goodwill that came my way from my Kansas City colleagues. I'm especially grateful to Zura Stewart, Eileen Drummond, Pat Daneman, Terrie Bergmann, Dan Foster, Teri Ann Drake, Don Hall, Tara Morrow, the writing managers, and Laura Neumann for going above and beyond to support my efforts and help me pull this thing off.

The sabbatical would not have been possible without the generosity of Barbara Marshall, whose continued sponsorship has enable this program to enrich and nurture Hallmark's creative division. I have appreciated this
once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I hope my experiences have provided some inspiration and food for thought.

Finally, I am grateful to my husband, Steve Jackson, who threw his heart and soul into supporting my adventure. As wonderful and invigorating as the sabbatical was, it has meant the world to come home to our happy and loving life together.

Take a little sabbatical every day.

I realize that none of the lessons I learned this summer are earth-shattering or revolutionary. But I don't think I'd have stumbled upon them if not for my sabbatical.

It's so important to get out of our rote existence of standing meetings, redundant lunch dates, corporate and family habits, favorite tv shows, and web sites that agree with us.

Putting ourselves out there as risk takers and explorers makes for joyful days, surprising thoughts, deeper insights, and the unshakable belief that anything can happen if we're we're receptive to the moment and willing to let it be.