The Beginning and The End

This is my first entry for my business blog. I hope to write once a month. I am not going to write about “5 Things Every Family Should Know Before Choosing Assisted Living” or “What No One Tells You About Senior Living”. I am going to share about my life as a small, local, woman-owned business, about my work supporting seniors and families and how I navigate the personal impacts of my work, about my past and where I come from - and how I got to this point in my personal and professional life. It will be personal because, to me, this work is personal. 

I was once asked by a vendor next to me at a resource fair, as he gestured toward a room full of other senior advisors, “How do you compete with them?” My answer? I don’t. I wouldn’t even know where to start, nor do I care to compete. My goal as a business owner and community resource to families and seniors who need guidance is to lead with my humanity. I don’t have a national business name that comes with recognition, influence and power. 

I just have me; and I think that is more than enough. 

I firmly believe that there are plenty of people in our community who need our help, as advisors, and we all have something unique to offer. 

A few weeks ago, one of the people I had the pleasure of working with passed away unexpectedly. Their passing had me facing death in a way I was not prepared for. Stay with me… 

When I was 13 years old, I walked into a Baptist church, and I left a different person.

It is hard to put into words what followed for the next 25 years of my life after that day. Some of you reading this may know exactly what I mean. You may have found your own way through religious deconstruction. You may know the language of purity culture, gender complementarianism, courtship, “guarding your heart,” modesty culture, marriage and motherhood as the ultimate expression of God, hell-and-brimstone teaching, Christian Zionism, spiritual warfare, speaking in tongues, rapture and end-times theology. The list goes on.

These weren't simply ideas I encountered or studied. They were the framework through which I understood myself, my relationships, my body, my purpose, my future - and ultimately, my death.

My hobbies were worship, prayer, evangelizing and going to Bible college. And for those 25 years, there was one thing I was absolutely certain about: what happened when we died. I knew. I remember feeling an overwhelming peace about death, and even an eagerness for my time on earth to end so I could spend eternity in heaven, worshiping God.

When I left the church ten years ago, it was a quick exit- but it had been a long time coming. The unraveling has been slow, and in many ways, it is still happening. I am still - and will forever be - relearning who I am, what I believe, and how to live without the certainty I once had.

So when my client passed away unexpectedly a few weeks ago, something in me shook loose. Similar to when my father died, I face that immediate grief of loss - the unfairness of it all. And I also became quickly confronted with my own mortality, without the certainty I once had about what comes next. It is a lot to carry around. We all carry this confrontation around with us, quietly. We are squeezing oranges at Trader Joe’s and opening the Parking Kitty app and getting our teeth cleaned at the dentist and driving the kids to karate… and in the quietness of our own minds, some of us move through the world with certainty and some of us don’t. 

I can’t promise my clients certainty. I don’t know with certainty how their move into an adult family home will go, how their diagnosis will progress, when they will deplete their financial resources or what their next year, or even month, will bring them. But I can promise, with absolute certainty, that I will be there to help during their transition into their new home. I will do my best to counsel, educate, empower and support them. I will listen with tenderness and make space for hard conversations. I will help them make decisions when the path ahead feels unclear. I can't tell them what will happen next, but I can walk alongside them while they find out. And it is my absolute honor to do so.