With Passion, Purpose, Empowerment, and Peace. That's How She Did It!

My life has been a series of uncomfortable seasons that have stretched my faith, tested my courage, and required a certain level of self-belief that I already possess all of the tools necessary to step into my purpose fully. Perhaps the most trying of these moments is when I launched the L.O.V.E. Academy. I never worked in the school system, didn't have any background in the education system or know how to develop a lesson plan. It took a bit of self-surrender to say, I can do something about what I don't know, but I can use what I do know and that's mentorship, connection, and building community. It was a terrifying moment because we launched our pilot program the summer of 2025 when federal grants for nonprofits and DEI initiatives were being dismantled across the country. Through a lot of prayer and familial support, I understood that in this space, perfect timing doesn't exist—only perfect preparation. Courage is necessary, but self-belief is essential. If you believe it, you will achieve it.

I was not the most experienced person in those rooms. I was often the youngest. I was frequently the only woman. And I was the one running it. That required something I did not have a name for at the time. Not confidence, because confidence implies certainty and I had none. It was closer to a decision: to trust the process, trust the preparation, and refuse to shrink in the presence of people whose titles suggested they knew more than I did. Sometimes they did. Often, about the specific problem on the table, they did not.

Starting over in a second career was one of the scariest decisions I've made. I was leaving something structured and known in the Air Force and stepping into something that felt almost entirely unknown. My only real exposure to interior design at the time was HGTV. I didn't even know workplace design existed. It hadn't occurred to me that offices, schools, or hospitals could be intentionally designed, or that someone was thinking deeply about how we interact with space every day. That realization changed everything. Once I began to understand the depth of the field, the level of detail, the rigor, and the impact, I knew I had made the right choice. But in the beginning, I didn't have that certainty. I had to trust myself before I had evidence. That transition required me to redefine how I thought about success. I had to shift my perspective on things I had previously believed to be true and be willing to start over in a completely different way. It was uncomfortable and uncertain, but it was also necessary. The version of me before that decision would not recognize who I am today, and I'm proud of that. It reflects growth, but also a willingness to step into something unknown and trust that I could figure it out.

Quitting a full-time job to start freelancing was scary and risky. A million thoughts ran through my head: what if I fail? But then, just as loudly, what if I succeed? Choosing courage over comfort meant walking away from stability and into the unknown, trusting myself without a safety net. It meant betting on my instincts and the relationships I had built through two decades in public relations. Of course, there were moments of doubt, but I also leaned on my values of faith, resilience and authenticity. That decision didn’t just change my career, it forced me to grow beyond my comfort zone. I stopped waiting for permission and started building something of my own, one step, one pitch, one leap of faith at a time.

Restoring a century-old warbird was a labor of love; test-flying it was my act of courage. As I prepped to co-pilot, the ground crew wheeled out 6 fire extinguishers. EACH taller than me! But the message was clear: this was dangerous. We had restored it ourselves... The warbird was built intended to last 100 hours in flight and there we were, about 100 years later, asking it to give more. As I climbed into the cockpit, heart in my throat, I realized courage isn't the absence of risk; it's the decision that the goal is worth it. I stepped away from the safety of the runway and chose to trust the machine we rebuilt with our own hands. In that moment, I realized that true courage is not the absence of fear. I trusted in our combined skill, though the outcome was uncertain. Most exhilarating, and vibration heavy, flight of my life.

Choosing courage over comfort meant walking away from everything familiar and stepping into the unknown for the sake of my family. In 2025, after my daughter successfully underwent heart surgery, my perspective on life shifted completely. What once felt safe no longer felt aligned with the future I wanted. I knew in that moment that I had to make a change, not just for where we were, but for where we were going. Leaving Chicago and relocating to Texas with my family wasn't easy. It meant uncertainty, starting over, and trusting myself in ways I never had before. There were moments of fear, doubt, and questions about whether I was making the right decision, but deep down I knew staying comfortable would never lead to the growth I was seeking. That decision became the foundation for everything that followed. It pushed me to step into entrepreneurship and build something of my own. I didn't have everything figured out, but I had vision, faith, and the determination to create a better life. Choosing courage taught me that growth requires movement. It requires trusting yourself even when the path isn't clear and believing that what you're building is worth the risk. Today, I stand confident in that decision, knowing that I didn't just choose change. I chose purpose, growth, and a new beginning.

Courage over comfort isn't a one-time decision for me. It's something I've chosen over and over again. Outside of work, that choice has taken different forms. As a hiker and solo traveler, I've learned to step into the unfamiliar and trust the path as it unfolds. Through yoga and meditation, I've learned something equally important. How to pause, observe, and stay grounded when the outcome isn't clear. I didn't realize at the time how much those habits would shape how I lead. There came a point in my career when everything was working. Projects delivered, timelines met, expectations checked off. From the outside, it looked like success. But one question kept surfacing: Are we truly creating value or just getting better at reporting progress? I had built a functioning Project Management Office, but I believed we needed to go further, shifting from tracking delivery to proving business value. That's not a comfortable position to take when what exists is familiar, accepted, and functioning. So I did something that felt risky: I walked into a leadership conversation (including our CIO) and said our current model wasn't enough before I had a fully built alternative to offer. What carried me forward wasn't certainty. It was trust in the people around me, and in myself. The work is still evolving. But the shift is already visible in how we prioritize, how we measure, and how we talk about success. Outcomes are beginning to matter more than activity. Courage didn't come from having all the answers. It came from being willing to move forward without them.

I chose courage over comfort when I decided to pursue my passion and build something of my own, even though the outcome is still uncertain. I am still learning, still growing, and still figuring things out, but I am determined to make it work. Courage, for me, means trusting my purpose enough to keep moving forward, even when the path is not fully clear.

Never underestimate your own strengths. They are hidden and must be excavated, then polished and provide luster.

I trusted myself the moment I chose a path with no guarantees, only conviction, and even though the outcome was uncertain, I knew my growth depended on taking that step.

Here's to the doors that open when we stop waiting to feel "ready" and start saying yes to new opportunities.

Stepping out on faith means speaking life into what God has sent you to do. If He brought you to it He will guide through it.

I moved to Denver from Texas with no network, no safety net, no moving support, and no idea how I'd even handle snow. Stepping into that uncertainty gave me room to blossom into an amazing life I couldn't have imagined or planned.

One of the hardest decisions was choosing to walk away from something that felt familiar, even though I wasn't sure what life would look like after. Staying would've been easier in the moment, but deep down I knew I needed peace more than comfort. It was scary trusting myself without knowing the outcome, but looking back, that decision taught me that sometimes the biggest act of courage is simply choosing yourself.

One of the most courageous decisions I made was giving myself permission to pursue a new purpose more aligned with who I was becoming, even when the path forward was uncertain. Even without knowing exactly what the outcome would be, I knew remaining in what felt familiar was no longer aligned with the life and impact I wanted to create.

Choosing courage meant leaving what felt safe and familiar when I moved to Florida for law school, even though it meant temporarily leaving my one-year-old daughter in Kansas with family while I got established. After one semester, I trusted myself enough to bring her to Florida with me during winter break, uncertain about how I would make it all work, and within one day of arriving, childcare fell into place.

I founded Ohana Medicare on a leap of faith, guided by the courage in my heart to bring full transparency and genuinely caring service to Medicare beneficiaries, the disabled, and our Veterans. I cut through the noise of exhausting Medicare marketing calls by focusing on what people truly need so they can make confident healthcare decisions, feeling seen and heard with the Aloha spirit in every step of the way.