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.