I often say that I didn’t choose this work by accident. In many ways, I grew up watching it. I saw early on what it looks like to sit with leaders, ask hard questions, and help organizations think more clearly about who they are and what they are trying to accomplish. I learned that strong organizations don’t happen by chance. They happen because someone is willing to slow down, listen carefully, and help people make better decisions.
I moved a lot as a kid. Before I was in high school, my family had lived in Illinois, Washington, California, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts, and I had changed schools nine times. I was the youngest of three, raised by parents who worked hard, kept learning, and believed that you show up for your family no matter what. My mom was a devoted learner who earned her associate degree, then her graduate degree, then her master’s, and eventually became a CPA — all while raising three kids. My dad was proud of his family, passionate about small towns, and fascinated by the grocery stores that kept those towns going. He met my mom in the checkout line of a Jewel grocery store outside Chicago — she was the cashier and he was the bagger. By the time I graduated from high school, he was the Vice President of Marketing for IGA, but he never lost his appreciation for the people doing the everyday work that keeps communities running. My father later became an executive coach and strategic planner - I would follow in his footsteps.
My own path into the nonprofit world started at the National Multiple Sclerosis Society, during the era of walk-a-thons, bike-a-thons, and every kind of “-thon” you can imagine. I was an event planner, and we raised money literally one mile at a time. That experience taught me something I still believe today: people will give when they understand what their effort means. When someone walks ten miles in the rain, they need to know why it matters. When donors write a check, they need to know what it will change. Fundraising isn’t just about money — it’s about connecting effort to impact in a way that feels real.
Later, working at the Child and Parent Resource Center in Tacoma, I learned some harder lessons. I learned that passion for a mission is not enough. You can care deeply about helping people, but if you don’t understand how your work actually affects the people you serve, your impact will be limited. I saw how complicated human services work can be, how messy systems can become, and how important it is to stay grounded in the question: Is what we are doing truly helping? That experience shaped the way I think about nonprofit leadership to this day. Good intentions are not a strategy. Clarity about outcomes matters.
At the Kitsap Humane Society, I learned a different lesson — and a powerful one. When you can clearly communicate the outcome of your work, fundraising becomes easier. People understand what it means to save an animal, to reunite a family with a pet, to give a second chance. When the impact is visible, people want to be part of it. That experience reinforced something I carry with me in every organization I work with: if you can explain your purpose clearly, and show the difference you make, the community will respond.
For seven years, I worked as a consultant with nonprofits in Jackson, Michigan, and that time shaped me in ways no single job ever could. I became a bit of a jack-of-all-trades — strategic planning, board development, fundraising, facilitation, problem solving, sometimes even conflict mediation. I learned how to sit at the table without needing to be the loudest voice. I learned how to listen carefully enough to understand what people are really trying to say. And I learned that many leaders are working incredibly hard, but they simply haven’t been given the tools, the language, or the permission to ask for what they need.
That realization is a big part of why I do this work today.
I believe nonprofits deserve the same level of strategy, coaching, and thoughtful planning that the for-profit world takes for granted. I believe boards and executive directors can do better work when they understand their roles. I believe fundraising is easier when organizations can clearly explain their impact. And I believe that when leaders are given space to think, to ask questions, and to learn, their organizations become stronger — and the people they serve benefit.
This work matters to me because I have seen what happens when organizations get it right.
And I have seen what happens when they don’t.
Helping leaders build stronger, clearer, more effective organizations isn’t just my profession.
It’s the work I was raised around, the work I grew into, and the work I still believe makes a real difference.