Over the past few weeks, I’ve spent a lot of time in airports.
There’s something about watching planes take off that makes you realize how much movement happens before anything ever leaves the ground.
This week, I picked up my daughter Schuyler from adaptive camp in Massachusetts.
From there, we went to her friend Dana’s wedding — the friend who was with her when the life changing boulder fell in Colombia.
And yesterday, we headed to Orlando for three days at NextStep still in pursuit of Schuy’s bucket list goal: once again being able to walk on her own.
There are donors who made this possible. People who said yes before they knew how it would unfold.
If I’ve learned anything since Colombia, it’s this:
Life rarely announces its miracles.
It unfolds quietly.
Sometimes what feels like waiting… is preparation.
Sometimes what feels like uncertainty… is expansion.
Sometimes the runway feels long.
But the runway isn’t the absence of flight.
It’s the necessary build.
And so much of this journey — recovery, community, gratitude, new experiences — didn’t arrive with certainty.
It arrived with:
Courage.
Trust.
Community.
And a willingness to move forward without guarantees.
Maybe life isn’t about basking in certainty.
Maybe it’s about learning to dance in uncertainty.
And maybe — just maybe — the unfolding is the magic.
What could this moment mean for you if your biggest breakthrough has arrived disguised as a runway?
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