The Compass and the Threshold
Week 61 | June 22, 2026
This week brought one of the hardest truths I have faced in a very long time.
Patty’s health declined rapidly. What had once been measured in hopeful possibilities suddenly became measured in weeks. Hospice entered the conversation. The future I knew was coming arrived much sooner than expected.
For several days, I felt suspended between worlds.
One part of me continued opening the office, attending meetings, building websites, solving problems, and showing up for the responsibilities in front of me.
Another part stood still in disbelief.
Nothing felt normal.
Because it wasn’t.
One of the strangest experiences of grief is realizing that your world has changed while everyone else’s appears to continue as usual. Conversations continue. Plans continue. Ordinary life continues. Yet internally, everything feels different.
This week taught me that grief does not always look like falling apart.
Sometimes grief looks like showing up anyway.
Sometimes it looks like numbness.
Sometimes it looks like staring at an empty office where a dear friend has quietly removed her photographs, books, and belongings because she knows she will not be returning in the same way.
Sometimes it looks like coloring a mandala beside a beloved tree because your mind can no longer process another spreadsheet.
I learned that I can hold sorrow and responsibility in the same hand.
Not gracefully.
Not perfectly.
But honestly.
Throughout the week, one realization continued to surface:
Ready Enough.
I have spent the last year building foundations. Healing old wounds. Learning discernment. Creating The Universe of Jen. Developing leadership. Strengthening roots.
This week life asked a question I could not avoid:
“Are you ready?”
And the answer was not perfection.
The answer was:
“Ready enough.”
I do not know how to navigate every part of what lies ahead.
I do not know how to grieve a dear friend while helping carry forward the business she built.
I do not know how every challenge will unfold.
But I know enough to take the next step.
And then the next.
And then the next.
This week also revealed something unexpected.
The symbols that have been appearing throughout my life over the past months suddenly assembled themselves into a compass:
Sun = Truth — What is true?
Mountain = View — Where am I?
River = Flow — How do I move?
Tree = Roots — Who am I?
What once felt like separate ideas became a single orientation system.
Not a map.
Not a prediction.
A compass.
A way to remain myself when the path disappears into fog.
Perhaps most importantly, I remembered the lessons of two extraordinary mentors.
Bob and Patty both saw something in me long before I fully saw it in myself.
Bob often asked:
“What are you gonna do about it, Jen?”
Not as criticism. As empowerment.
A reminder that action remains possible even when circumstances are difficult.
Patty spent decades teaching, mentoring, trusting, and preparing me.
Together, they planted seeds whose growth I am only now beginning to understand.
Their legacies live within me.
Not as expectations.
As gifts.
This week reminded me that stewardship is not about becoming someone else.
It is about carrying forward what matters while remaining fully myself.
The grief is real.
The uncertainty is real.
The responsibility is real.
And so is my capacity to meet them.
The mountain is still being built.
The river is still flowing.
The roots are deeper than they once were.
And the compass is already in my hand.
So I will continue.
Not because I know the entire path.
Because I know who I am while walking it.
Seal: The Threshold of Stewardship
Symbols: ☀️ Sun • ⛰️ Mountain • 🌊 River • 🌳 Tree • 🔥 Torch • 🌱 Seed
Truth of the Week: The path was not revealed. The compass was.