Before We Go
In just a few days, Steve and I will leave for Norway.
As I've been packing for the trip, I keep finding myself looking backward as much as forward. There is something about preparing for a new adventure that naturally invites reflection. Before we step into what's next, we have a chance to appreciate where we've been.
A year ago, life looked very different.
I was spending countless hours on my bike, training for the ride across the United States. Somewhere during those long rides, an idea began to take shape. It wasn't called Peace in Grief yet. It wasn't even a business. It was simply a quiet thought that wouldn't let go of me—a hope that perhaps my experiences could someday help others navigate some of life's most difficult moments.
Looking back now, I'm amazed by how much can change in a single year.
I've had the privilege of walking alongside incredible clients and meeting people who have changed the way I see the world. I've watched a dream slowly become something real. I've made new friends, created memories I'll carry for a lifetime, and gained a deeper appreciation for the beauty found in ordinary days. I've also experienced heartbreaking loss, including saying goodbye to our sweet Bernie, and I've been reminded once again that joy and grief are rarely far apart.
This year has stretched me in ways I never expected. It has asked me to move quickly at times and to slow down at others. It has taught me that there is a season for working hard toward a dream and another for simply being present enough to enjoy it.
As we get ready to leave for another adventure, I don't want to rush past this moment. I want to pause long enough to be grateful—for the people who have become part of this chapter, for the lessons I never would have chosen but wouldn't trade, and for the experiences that have shaped me into someone a little wiser, a little more compassionate, and a little more aware of how precious ordinary life really is.
It's so easy to move from one thing to the next, always planning, always preparing, always looking ahead. But the moments we spend anticipating are also moments we get to live. They aren't simply the space before the next chapter begins; they are part of the story itself.
So before we go, I'm choosing to pause.
To breathe.
To be thankful.
And to remind myself that the greatest adventures aren't measured by the miles we travel or the places we see, but by how fully present we are for each moment along the way.
