Three years at Woodlawn United. Three years of growth, lessons, relationships, challenges, opportunities, and countless moments that have shaped me both professionally and personally. When I reflect on my time at Woodlawn United, I’m reminded that the most meaningful work isn’t always measured by a completed project, a successful event, or a number on a report. Sometimes, it’s measured by the relationships you build, the doors you help open, the voices you help amplify, and the people who have a seat at the table because you made sure they were invited. For me, one of the most rewarding parts of my work has been advocating for the community I’m fortunate to serve. Giving Woodlawn a Seat at the Table Over the past three years, I’ve had the opportunity to share Woodlawn’s story with local, state, and federal elected officials, policymakers, community leaders, funders, and partners. I’ve been able to talk about the challenges our community faces, but more importantly, I’ve been able to talk about the incredible work happening every day to address those challenges. Advocacy has taught me that telling a community’s story is a responsibility. It’s not simply about making sure people know your organization exists. It’s about making sure decision-makers understand the people behind the work. It’s about connecting policy to the lived experiences of residents. It’s about making the case for investment, opportunity, and resources—and making sure communities like Woodlawn aren’t left out of conversations that directly impact their future. That responsibility is something I don’t take lightly. One of the things I’m particularly proud of is that Woodlawn United served as a host site for the Southern Legislative Conference last year. We’ve also had the opportunity to welcome leaders from across the country to tour Woodlawn, learn from our work, and see firsthand what is possible when residents, nonprofit organizations, businesses, schools, government, and community partners come together around a shared vision. There is something powerful about allowing people to experience a community for themselves. They get to see the progress. They get to hear directly from people doing the work. They get to understand that community revitalization isn’t simply about buildings, programs, or investments—it’s about people and the conditions that allow people to thrive. Creating those opportunities to elevate Woodlawn, tell its story, and connect the community to people who have the ability to influence policy and investment has been one of the most meaningful parts of my role. What Leadership Has Taught Me Perhaps just as important as the work itself has been what I’ve learned about leadership. I’m grateful to be part of a dynamic team and to work alongside leadership that doesn’t simply ask for excellence—it demonstrates it. There is a difference between being given a title and actually leading. Over the past three years, I’ve learned to pay much closer attention to that difference. A title may tell you where someone sits on an organizational chart. Leadership tells you how they show up when the work gets difficult, how they treat people when no one is watching, how they hold themselves accountable, and whether they are willing to demonstrate the same standard they expect from others. I’ve learned that some of the best leadership lessons don’t come from a leadership seminar or a textbook. They come from watching people work. They come from seeing how someone responds to pressure, how they make decisions, how they advocate for their team, and how consistently they pursue excellence. Being surrounded by that kind of leadership has challenged me to think differently about the leader I want to become. And I’m grateful for that. Three Years In Three years later, I’m proud of the work I’ve been able to contribute to, but I’m even more grateful for what the work has taught me. I’ve learned more about advocacy. More about government and public affairs. More about partnerships. More about community development. More about the importance of relationships. And, perhaps most importantly, I’ve learned more about myself and the kind of professional and leader I want to be. I’ve met people I never would have crossed paths with otherwise. I’ve sat at tables I once only hoped to have access to. I’ve had conversations with elected officials and leaders at the local, state, and federal levels about the future of Woodlawn. I’ve watched ideas turn into action and seen partnerships create opportunities that would not have been possible alone. And through it all, the mission has remained the same: keep pushing Woodlawn forward and help create greater opportunities for the people who call it home. There is still plenty of work to do. There are still conversations to have, relationships to build, resources to pursue, policies to influence, and opportunities to create. But that’s what makes the work meaningful. Three years in, I’m grateful—not only for what we’ve accomplished, but for the opportunity to keep learning, keep advocating, keep growing, and keep showing up for Woodlawn.

My grandmother used to say, “Just keep living.” And if I’m honest, when I was younger, it used to frustrate me. Because when an elder says, “Just keep living,” what you often hear is: You don’t know enough yet. You haven’t lived enough yet. You do not have the wisdom yet to fully understand what you are saying, what you are choosing or what you are walking through. But over these last 14 years, I have come to understand the gift in those words. Just keep living. Time will teach you what urgency cannot. Time will reveal what the moment cannot explain. Time will show you that some doors were not rejection. They were redirection. Time will prove that nothing was wasted. Fourteen years ago, I was working as a legal secretary in a Social Security disability law office. I answered phones, built systems, managed details and listened—really listened—to people. Many of our clients had very little. They were waiting for a government system to support them because illness, disability, limited education and limited opportunity had affected their ability to care for themselves and their families. Every day, I saw how systems could work to the detriment of people who were already carrying more than their share. At the time, I did not know God was preparing me. I did not know that answering those calls was teaching me how to listen to a community. I did not know that building systems in an office was preparing me to build systems in an organization. I did not know that witnessing the consequences of broken systems would eventually help shape my life’s work. Around that same season, a door I thought I wanted did not open. But the relationship connected me to another room—with Stephen Cockrell and Sally Garner—where it became clear that we were about to build something and change something together. And then my journey began. God saw fit to grow me up in community. Over these 14 years, I have learned what works and what does not. I have learned what leadership is and what it is not. I have learned that proximity matters. That listening is strategy. That trust is infrastructure. That policy matters, but so does presence. That transformation requires patience, discipline, courage and deep relationship. I have learned that leadership is not just having vision. It is having the humility to be formed by the work. I have learned that the assignment will grow you before it elevates you. I have learned that you can be in the right place long before you understand why. Today, I live in the very community I have the privilege of serving. I sit in rooms where I help leaders think about how to transform neighborhoods. I guide communities working to improve outcomes for children and families. I mentor women leading organizations and movements across the country. I help influence local, state and federal policy. And every day, I have the honor of contributing to work that is affecting thousands of lives. Fourteen years ago, I could not have fully understood what God was building. I did not know that every assignment, every relationship, every room and every lesson was preparing me for this season of leadership. But my grandmother was right: Just keep living. Because if you keep living, time will teach you. And if you keep trusting, God will show you that your steps were ordered all along. For years, I sang the words, “Order my steps in Your Word, dear Lord.” I led that song in worship countless times. But I understand it differently now. Ordered steps do not always feel clear while you are taking them. Sometimes they look like closed doors. Sometimes they look like small assignments. Sometimes they look like listening before leading. Sometimes they look like being planted in a place long enough to be formed by it. On my 14th anniversary with Woodlawn United, I am deeply grateful. Grateful for every lesson. Grateful for every leader who trusted me. Grateful for every resident who taught me. Grateful for every room I was allowed to enter. Grateful for every room I had to grow into. Grateful for the community that helped raise me as a leader. And grateful for a God who could see the entire road when I could only see the next step. I have found my cadence. I know more deeply who I am, how I lead and what is required of me in this next season—not just to lead more, but to lead better. Fourteen years later, I can say with certainty: My steps were ordered. And they still are.