Well, hello, hello, hello. Welcome back to another episode of WORDS MATTER. I'm so glad you're here today. 

If you've been walking alongside me through these past few episodes, you already know that we've been in the thick of some pretty heavy things. Important things and honest things. We've looked shame in the eye, spoken hard truths out loud, and named pain that most people are still too afraid to admit.

And even though I stand by every word, for sure, I also know how much weight those words can carry. Especially if you're already walking through a hard season of your own. 

So today I want to offer something just a little bit different. Something lighter. Now, you know we don't do empty or surface level here, but I mean light in the way where the sun filters through the trees after a storm. Light like a deep breath you didn't realize you were holding. Or like a reminder that even in the mess, there's still beauty. There's still hope. And there's still a way forward, as long as you're willing to take the steps.

Now, as I was sitting with this week's episode, reflecting on everything we've been moving through and working through, I wanted to find a way to speak out encouragement without ignoring the real. So I started looking for a quote that I could use that would carry both. Something that would make room for the hard, but also speak to what's possible. And in that search, I came across a quote that stopped me in my tracks.

"There's no straight line to anything worth having." 

Something about that quote hit me so deep that I had to read it a second time, slowly. Like I didn't want to miss a single word.

Now, I've said a version of that quote for years. My kids heard it growing up. If you know me well, you've heard me say it time and time again. 

I always say, "Anything worth having is hard work." 

And I believe that. I still live that. But those words reminded me that it's not just about the work. It's also about the way. And the way? Well, it is rarely straight. It's rarely clean. And it almost never unfolds as we thought it would. And that doesn't mean that you're lost. It just means that you're on your way. You're journeying forward.

Here's the thing, friends. We all crave mountaintop moments, don't we? We love the breakthroughs. We love the clarity and the sense of "Finally! I made it to my destination." We look forward to the peak because it feels like proof that the climb was worth it. But growth rarely happens in a straight line. And anyone who's actually ever climbed a mountain before knows that.

Back in September of 2023, Chris and I climbed a Quandary Peak together. That's one of Colorado's 14ers, just outside of Breckenridge. Over 3,400 feet of elevation gain, with a trail that starts at 10,000 feet above sea level. That kind of altitude changes everything. It demands more of you — of your breath, your focus, your energy, and even more belief in yourself. Now we had trained for it. Planned for it. And it was still one of the hardest things we've ever done — physically and mentally.

The trail itself was full of long, winding switchbacks that tested our patience and made us question whether we were making any progress at all. There were false summits that made us think that we were close, only to reveal we still had more climbing to do. There were stretches where the trail vanished into the rock, and we had to pause to figure out where to go next. And there were quiet, honest moments when both of us wondered if we could actually finish.

There was one moment in particular — high up, oxygen thin, legs barely cooperating — when we didn't know if we had any more steps in us. So Chris created a system. 50 steps forward. Then stop. Count to 50. Breathe. Bring your heart rate down. And then 50 more steps forward. That's how we got to the top. Not by long stretches and not by powering through, but by honoring what we had in us in that moment — and choosing to keep going anyway.

That hike taught us something we've come back to many, many times since… that even when you can't see the peak, the steps you're taking still matter. Even when the path disappears or feels like it's turning you in circles, you're still moving. You're still becoming. And that's the part we often overlook.

Because the journey toward anything meaningful — healing, peace, purpose, freedom — it's full of uneven terrain. It's made of moments that feel uncertain, tedious, overwhelming. There will be detours you didn't plan for and chapters that ask more from you than you ever thought you had to give. And yet somehow, it's always worth it.

Chris said something on a hike a while ago, and I carry it with me. He said, "No up lasts forever and no down lasts forever — as long as you keep moving forward." 

Now that line doesn't promise ease, but it reminds me that movement is still possible — even in the messy middle of it all.

It reminds me that I don't have to have it all figured out to take the next step. And it reminds me that the terrain will change — not because I forced it to, but because I chose not to quit. And that choice? That simple act of staying with yourself through the unpredictable? It's what builds a life worth living. Not the speed of your progress. Not the polish of your plans. But the presence and the persistence to keep going anyway.

And that's not just a mindset. There's real science behind it. See, the brain has something called Cognitive Flexibility, which is your ability to shift perspective when life doesn't match your expectations. It's what allows you to recognize when a strategy isn't working and to try something new. It keeps you moving when your path changes, rather than getting stuck in frustration or fear. And just like any muscle, Cognitive Flexibility gets stronger the more you use it.

Every time you acknowledge, "This isn't what I thought it would be," and choose to respond with curiosity instead of shutting down, you're strengthening that part of you. You're becoming someone who can adapt. Someone who can stay open. Someone who can trust that even a winding road can still take you to somewhere good.

And maybe you're in the middle of that road right now, friends. Maybe the path you were on disappeared beneath your feet, and you're trying to find your way again. Maybe you're exhausted, disoriented, or discouraged. Maybe you feel like you've been climbing forever without reaching that mountaintop moment. Or maybe you're standing in the valley with no clear view, no trail markers, no sign of what's ahead, and wondering whether the climb is even worth it.

If that's where you are today, I want to remind you that you're not failing. You're not falling short. And you're not stuck beyond repair. You are in the process of learning. Adapting. Becoming. You're strengthening your tenacity — that part of you that doesn't quit when things get hard. You're building your ability to keep going — even when the path isn't clear. You're expanding your capacity to meet each moment — without needing to have all the answers. And you're not waiting to be ready. You're becoming ready by walking the path as it is.

And let me just say… we did make it to the top of Quandary Peak that day. We stood there together in silence, letting the view wash over us. But the journey wasn't over. The way back down? It was brutal. It seemed to go on forever. The joy of reaching the peak faded quickly as our knees and feet took the jarring hit of every downhill step.

We thought the hard part was behind us. But the descent? It brought its own kind of difficulty. See, the physical toll showed up differently. There were no false summits left to chase. Just gravity pulling us downward and muscles growing more and more fatigued by the mile. And even though we knew we were headed toward rest, the exhaustion made every step feel longer than it should have.

But eventually — finally — we saw the car. That moment will for sure stay with me forever. We both exhaled. Not just from relief, but from the kind of deep, full-body knowing that says, "We did it." We were sore for days. We still talk about it almost two years later, but what we remember isn't just the view from the top. It's the climb. It's the way we kept choosing to move forward. Even when it was hard. Even when we didn't know how much was left. It was the descent and the ability to keep moving — even when we had nothing left in us to do so.

And that's what today's quote means to me. "There's no straight line to anything worth having." 

The climb matters. The struggle matters. And the descent matters, too. And every bit of it — the effort, the pauses, the questions, the ache, the decision to keep going — every piece of it becomes part of the story that you carry.

There's no wasted step when you keep showing up for yourself. And there's no shame in breaking down those steps — breaking down the journey into smaller parts — just like we did. It's not supposed to be straight, friends. It's supposed to be yours.

And maybe now is a good time to pause and think about what this means to you, too. 

What are the peaks you're working towards right now? The places you hope to reach, the parts of your life where you're climbing with everything that you've got.

What valleys have you walked through lately? The stretches that felt long, lonely, or unclear.

What obstacles are in your way — physical, emotional, logistical — that make the next step feel heavier than it should?

Maybe your climb doesn't look like mine. Maybe it's rebuilding your health. Repairing a relationship. Staying committed to something no one else sees but you. Maybe you're healing from something you never expected to go through. Maybe you're showing up for people who don't always see what it takes out of you to keep going. Or maybe you're just trying to get through the day without giving up on yourself.

Whatever your mountain is right now, I want you to know that the uneven path doesn't mean you're lost. The pauses, the setbacks, the slower-than-you-wanted progress — they're not signs that you're not making it. They're just part of your way forward.

You're doing it, friends. You're moving. And you've got to give yourself credit for that. 

You're showing up for your life in a way that matters — probably more than you even realize. 

You may not feel strong every day. You may not always feel clear. But if you're willing to keep taking the next step — even a small one, even if you have to breathe through it — you are moving toward something that matters.

The climb is hard. Yes. So is the descent. But the strength you build along the way stays with you. It becomes a part of who you are. And it shows up in all areas of your life when you need it most.

And that's the power of this week's quote: "There's no straight line to anything worth having." But there's always the way forward. Keep putting one foot in front of the other, friend. And you'll see that it's all worth the work you're putting into it — because you're worth it.

Friends, the words we see and read, the words we hear, and the words we say to ourselves and about ourselves — about what we're doing and how we're doing it — they all matter. 

Your WORDS MATTER, because YOU MATTER. 

Have a great day.