Last Saturday, my family and I experienced something that I know will stay with me for the rest of my life. It was one of those mornings that quietly shifts your perspective—on health, on gratitude, and on what truly matters.
We had the opportunity to attend the Pensacola Ice Flyers’ Day of Play, in partnership with the Rally Foundation. Six young boys—each bravely battling cancer—were treated like hockey stars for the day. And truly, they were.
They toured the locker room, received custom jerseys, and stepped out onto the ice with the team. But what stood out most wasn’t just the experience—it was the courage on their faces, the joy in their smiles, and the way an entire community showed up to celebrate them.
My children stood in front of me, cheering as these boys walked down the red carpet. And I’ll be honest—it was not lost on me that a couple of these brave boys were around their age.
Watching my kids clap, smile, and look up to them with admiration stirred something deep in me as a mom. It was a powerful reminder of both the fragility and the strength of childhood.
In that moment, it created perspective. It was about gratitude for the simple gift of being able to cheer, to stand, to hug your children, to witness joy in the middle of hardship.
As a mother, those are the moments that shape you. They ground you. They remind you what kind of world you want to help create—not just for your own children, but for every child.
These moments witnessed last week guide my purpose. They remind me that leadership is about people. It’s about showing up for families, supporting organizations like Rally, and ensuring that every child—no matter their circumstances—feels seen, supported, and celebrated.
I am so incredibly grateful to Sanri and Greg for inviting us into such a meaningful day, and to the Rally Foundation for the work they do day in and day out. What they give to these children and families is more than an experience—it’s hope, it’s joy, it’s a moment to just be a kid!
And maybe that’s what wellness really is.
It’s not perfection. It’s presence. It’s love. It’s community.
It’s standing beside your children, cheering for someone else’s—and realizing we’re all in this together.
