There are moments when life interrupts our plans in ways we did not expect. These moments can feel unfair, scary, or inconvenient, yet they often carry a doorway into something new. Something we might have missed if we kept rushing.
Not long ago, I found myself facing a health scare. I needed a bladder biopsy. The doctors were hopeful, but the fear was real. It made me stop in a way I had not let myself stop in a long time. It was the first time I realized how hard I had been pushing myself. My body had been sending signals, but I kept ignoring them because I believed the only way forward was through more pressure and more effort.
That biopsy became a turning point. It asked me to sit in the unknown, which felt uncomfortable and unfamiliar. At first I resisted it. I told myself I did not have time to wait. I needed answers. I needed direction. I needed to keep moving or I would somehow fall behind.
But something unexpected happened. The longer I sat in the unknown, the more it softened. The fear did not disappear, but it made room for something else. I began to feel a quiet settling inside me, like a gentle return to myself. The unknown became less frightening and more like a homecoming. I felt myself becoming excited for what might unfold. I found myself exploring the unknown with curiosity instead of panic.
Faith and Data: A Surprising Connection
During this time I had a realization that surprised even me. I saw that faith works the same way data does. Data has always been the foundation of my career. I have spent years analyzing it, cleaning it, transforming it, and uncovering patterns that drive clarity and trust.
What I had never considered was how much inner data we all carry. Decades of experiences, memories, beliefs, fears, and moments that shaped us. I saw all of it like boxes stacked in the basement of my being. Some boxes have been sealed for years. Others contain stories I outgrew long ago. Some hold wisdom I forgot to use.
When I began to approach my inner world like data, something shifted. I realized I did not need to open every box at once. I could choose one. I could turn it upside down, peek inside, and look at it from different angles. I could explore without judgment. I could ask myself what still fits and what needs to be recycled or released.
This is the work I guide my clients through in their own way. It is not about fixing anything. It is about becoming curious about the truth within them.
The Line That Changed Everything
Around this time I received a chapter from a book that is about to be published. One line stood out to me:
And in that moment, when I asked myself, what comes next, the answer was simple. Trust. – Julie Flippin
As soon as I read it, I felt something shift inside me. I realized I had been trying to force the answer to that same question. What comes next. What should I build. What am I supposed to do.
I was pushing myself into clarity instead of trusting that clarity would arrive. That line reminded me that it was time to stop forcing and start listening. It was time to say, I do not know, and trust that the next step would reveal itself.
Since then, my days have felt more spacious. More exploritory. I remind myself that if I feel not ok, I can pause into the feeling. I can flip the perspective. I can return later if I need to. There is no pressure to get it perfect. There is room to be human.
Resetting in the Smallest Places
This shift also changed how I related to the small annoyances in my life. I noticed moments with my husband where I felt irritated over things that, in truth, had nothing to do with him. They were reflections of my own internal pressure.
When I began to pause in those moments and remember why I love him, something softened. The annoyance dissolved. My heart opened. It reminded me that the reset we seek often begins in the smallest places. One breath. One pause. One shift in awareness.
This same wisdom carries into the world of work. Many of my clients face endless deadlines and unrealistic expectations. When everything feels urgent, frustration rises and clarity drops. The delivery becomes more important than the human delivering it.
Yet one breath can reset everything. One moment of surrender can lighten the load. When we pause, we make fewer mistakes. When we stop pushing, we begin to see what was invisible before.
What Courage Really Means
Courage is not always a bold leap. Sometimes courage is a soft yes.
Yes to pausing.
Yes to slowing down.
Yes to letting go of the need to know everything.
Right now, courage for me looks like writing this. Sharing honestly where I am. Admitting I do not have all the answers. Staying consistent even when I am unsure of the impact.
I write because it helps me stay in integrity with my own unfolding. I write because transparency is part of who I am becoming. I write because someone out there may be sitting in their own unknown and needs a reminder that they are not alone.
The Whisper I Want You to Take With You
You do not have to push to prove yourself. You can trust that it will all work.
Your path does not need to be clear for it to be meaningful.
Your yes does not need to be loud for it to be powerful.
Sometimes the yes that changes your story begins quietly within the space of I do not know.