This past year has felt a bit like swapping a familiar walking trail for a brand-new path—same boots, same backpack, but suddenly the terrain looks different. After 23 years working in economic development at the city, county, and state levels across Maryland, I’ve walked a lot of those familiar paths. I’ve learned their rhythms. I’ve memorized the landmarks. In some ways, I could navigate them in my sleep.
Then this year happened—a year of transition, reflection, and more than a few unexpected plot twists.
Professionally, I shifted from government work into consulting, joining the PPR Strategies team and supporting communities across the region. After spending more than two decades inside government structures, working as a consultant has felt a bit like adjusting to a new elevation. It’s the same field—helping communities grow, planning for the future, strengthening the places we call home—but from a new vantage point. I’ve found myself rediscovering the “beginner mindset,” asking fresh questions, and seeing old challenges in new ways. It’s been an opportunity to stretch, to learn, and to remember what attracted me to this work in the first place: the people, the stories, and the potential inside every community.
On the personal side, life decided that one transition was simply not enough. My husband and I spent more time at our home in Tennessee, the place where we plan to retire someday. We’ve been slowly putting down new roots—meeting neighbors, discovering the local spots, and learning firsthand how community is built one conversation, one introduction, one small moment at a time. It’s been energizing in its own way, a reminder that new beginnings don’t just happen at work.
But this year also brought its share of bittersweet moments. I lost my father, and my youngest son got engaged within months of each other. My sister is expecting her first child, bringing joy and anticipation right alongside grief and change. It has been a year of holding many things at once: celebration and loss, excitement and uncertainty, endings and beginnings.
And somehow, woven through all of that, there’s been clarity.
When you walk on unfamiliar trails—whether in work or in life—you pay closer attention to what’s around you. You listen more closely. You notice the path under your feet. You give yourself permission to slow down, pause, or adjust course. This year reminded me that transitions don’t just shift your surroundings—they shift your perspective. They make space for new insights to surface.
My biggest insight from this year? Growth rarely feels comfortable while it’s happening. But it’s often the discomfort that nudges us forward.
Which brings me to my intention for the year ahead: lean into curiosity over comfort. Instead of trying to fit new experiences into old patterns, I want to stay open—to learning, to listening, to exploring, and to redefining what’s next. Whether I’m helping a county rethink its business attraction strategy or figuring out which Tennessee grocery store has the best produce (still under review), I want to stay present to where I am and willing to grow into who I’m becoming.
As we look to the new year, I’m grateful for the familiar trails behind me, the new terrain beneath me, and the people walking alongside me—at home, at PPR, and in every community I’ve had the honor to serve.
Here’s to navigating whatever comes next with curiosity, resilience, and just enough humor to keep the journey interesting.
