Between Then and Now: A Lesson in Presence

There are moments when time reveals itself in layers, when the present opens a window into the past, and you find yourself standing in both places at once. The version of you who once stumbled still lingers, and yet here you are, steadier, clearer, carrying the lessons forward.

I was recently given such a moment. It did not come wrapped in ceremony or announcement. It came quietly, through memory and reflection. I was reminded of a time when I felt lost, and of the presence of souls who anchored me when nothing else could. They showed me that even in my darkest hours, I was not abandoned. And now, I see that their lessons never left me. They still live inside me, guiding me into the life I am building today.

These moments are easy to miss. They come in subtle forms: the glance of an animal who trusts you, the silence of a room where you suddenly feel safe, the consistency of someone showing up for you without question. They do not shout, yet they steady us. They remind us that joy can exist beside sorrow, that stillness can exist inside chaos, that love can be stronger than despair.

I invite you to pause with me here. Close your eyes if you wish. Let yourself remember a time when you were carried, not by achievement, not by circumstance, but by presence. Maybe it was a person. Maybe it was a place. Maybe it was a four-legged soul whose eyes saw straight into you. Whatever form it took, let yourself return to it for a moment. Feel it. Notice what it does in your body. That memory is proof: you were never as alone as you thought you were.

These anchors, these small yet monumental moments, are what carry us between who we were and who we are becoming. They are reminders that love and consistency ripple through time, outlasting fear.

And now, I find myself at another threshold. It has been thirty days since I turned in my resignation letter, thirty days since I surrendered to what felt impossible and chose to trust the path instead. In that short span, life has already unfolded in ways I could not have orchestrated on my own. What was once only a vision has begun to shimmer into form.

What is taking shape now is not yet the fullness of Thrivewell Estate, but perhaps a preview, a doorway, an opening thread. A space where the essence of what Thrivewell will become can be felt, even before its grounds are restored, even before its walls rise again. It is both humbling and miraculous to witness: the seed showing its first green shoot above the soil, promising what will one day bloom.

This new beginning is more than place. It is presence itself, an invitation for stillness, for healing, for reflection. My hope is that within it, others will find their own anchors. That they, too, will discover joy coexisting with grief, and peace woven even into the noise of life.

So tonight, I offer you this reflection and this glimpse forward as one. Both are true: I am still learning from the quiet lessons that once saved me, and I am stepping forward into creating spaces where those lessons may ripple outward to others.

I wonder, as you read this, what has carried you? What memory, what soul, what moment of presence do you return to when life feels heavy? What is your proof that you were held, even when you thought you were falling?

The answers are already within you. Sometimes they whisper. Sometimes they arrive as a hawk circling above. Sometimes they are felt most clearly in stillness.

This is the invitation: to notice, to honor, to carry those lessons with you into what is becoming next.

With reverence and gratitude,
Kelley