Today felt circular, complex, and connectional. Like a standing in a wide-open field and seeing a new constellation take shape in the sky. Blinking and it was gone, but the warm sensation of wonder remained inside me.

I sat in my favorite pew in the little quaint white chapel of Westminster Presbyterian Church as sun pierced through the wooden shades. Before the service started, I turned to the back of the space, and whispered, “Hey dad.” Acknowledging his remains – and ever presence – in the small columbarium. Then jubilantly sang, “Come Sing, O Church, In Joy.” The sermon focused on searching for beautiful and truthful words, said plainly.

Next, I shared my words as part of a three-person panel on how our faith fit into my career journey. How did it guide me or impact my career decisions? Where had there been conflict between faith and my job? Where and how did I work with others with a different faith, and what was that like? What would I offer to folks to think about in terms of faith and work? Big questions I’d honestly not thought of before, and candidly, had a hard time working through in preparation for the Sunday morning discussion in our adult Christian formation program. What I sought were lightning bolt moments. What I found were small whispers of light in my own constellation….

• How faith and career were rooted in a family legacy of stories of how various loved ones demonstrated their faith, such as my Grandmother Oehler who as an elementary school teacher would strong arm local dentists and physicians to care for students in need of care in her class… How my parents encouraged me to boldly use my God given talents… How there was an element of faith as I stepped into each new opportunity at work, such as starting my consulting career with Army’s program to support families of the fallen during OIF/OEF.
• How the Bible’s guidance to care for the “least of these” called on me to mentor and advocate for those outside the typical corporate structure—to try to help level the playing field and empower those with their own unique and beautiful constellation to shine more brightly in a way that worked for them and others needed too.
• How learning about my co-worker’s faith – from Judaism to Muslim and Methodist – deepened our relationships, made me a more aware leader, and grew my own faith.
• How helping severely wounded combat Soldiers tell their complex stories changed how I saw and showed up in the world.
• How my intention for 2025 – “help authentically” (taped above my computer camera) – guided me in ways I never could have imagined this past year as I got on numerous calls the past 10 months with clients, coworkers, and friends regarding contract cuts, layoffs, and career loss. So much grief.

On a day that started talking about faith and work… it seemed fitting to close it with the start of a new chapter in my career. This afternoon I attended my final class to be a Grief Guide through a three-month program offered by The Grieverly. As I explained in the one-hour grief session I hosted for my capstone project, “When asked what led me to become a Grief Guide, the best answer I’ve found is, ‘I had a feeling and listened to it.’”

The first portion of this final class featured a gratitude ritual, then a 10-minute break. During the break I received a text from my brother. While I’m typically phone free for my class, I picked it up. There I saw him wearing one of our Dad’s stoles. A white one for Christ the King Sunday. Tears of joy and grief fell as Dad once again showed up to encourage my growth, my career, and my faith as I stepped forward into the unknown.

For our final course activity, we took 20 minutes to write a letter to our future self as a Grief Guide. And, in keeping with this morning’s sermon on plain, beautiful, truthful words, I boldly share mine:

Emily,

You know. You are grounded in a legacy of faith. You are touched and you are called. The path is there – always – regardless of its line of sight. Feel your roots. Welcome others to the protection, cover of support of your branches. Let them rest – and rest with them. The care is not yours alone to give.

You know. The seasons will change, and in that there is sadness, wonder, relief, and joy. All are good. All should be accepted, felt, and allowed to move on.

You know. You have a call, a skill, an intuition, a spirit. Pause and play with her. Open your hand to invite rather than clinch tightly. Let her flow and flow with her. Feel her breeze. Sway.

You know. There is a spark. While strong and steady it dims from exhaustion, doubt, outside expectations, internal pressures, habits, and protection. Feed it. Let it rise and shine. Watch as it gets thin and fades. Draw up the renewal and renewed energy of your community of women—each gifted and big hearted.

You know. Stop doing. Listen. And listen more. Step forward. You are protected as you protect others. You are loved, appreciated, and supported. Fully accept it and bring that space and experience to others on your path.

You know.

Welcome it.

Welcome others.

With love and ease,

Emily