Grace got me here. Grit keeps me here.
I came up a competitive athlete in the heartland and I believed basketball was the whole plan. Then my knees decided otherwise, and the identity I had built everything on ended before I was ready to let it go.
What came after is the part nobody photographs. I started over more than once, through healthcare, then journalism, and finally into public relations, where I found the work I was actually made for. Every room I walk into now, I reached by rebuilding. That is not a hardship story. It is the reason I am useful.
I am a woman of faith doing her best. I have been carried through things I could not have handled on my own, and I do not pretend otherwise. Grace is not a soft word to me. It is the thing that showed up when the plan did not, and it is why I am still standing in rooms I once had no business being in.
So when I sit with an athlete whose career just ended, I am not guessing. When the foundation restores a scholarship for someone whose dream got interrupted, that is personal. I am not here to be impressive. I am here to be the person I needed.