It was a warm March afternoon, the kind of day that hinted at the thaw of winter, where the sun’s touch felt like the promise of new beginnings. I should have been celebrating the start of a new chapter—a high-ranking position as Director of Sales for a roofing company. Instead, I found myself at a crossroads that made no sense.
The night before my first day, I couldn’t sleep. Ideas raced through my mind, a vision forming that was bigger than just selling roofs. By morning, I had poured my energy into a 19-page business plan—a revolutionary concept to use door-to-door roof sales as a way for nonprofit founders to share their purpose and practice telling their stories. It was bold, ambitious, and unlike anything the industry had seen.
Fueled by inspiration, I threw myself into recruiting a dream team. I reached out to CEOs, founders, and professionals, asking them to leave their families and join me in Billings, Montana, to create a sales force that would change lives, one door at a time. People believed in the vision. Some said yes. But when I told the company owners about my plan, they laughed. It didn’t matter. I could feel the momentum building.
Then, one afternoon, as I lay in the sun with my head in Ash’s lap, a deep unease began to stir. Despite the progress, the new job, and the team I was building, something felt off. It was as if a voice inside me was saying, “This isn’t where you’re meant to stay.”
I stared up at Ash, searching for answers. “What is wrong with me?” I asked. “Why can’t I just be content with a stable job and a paycheck? Why does everything I do have to have meaning or purpose? Why am I even thinking about quitting?”
I wrestled with the thought for hours. I had obligations—rent due in two weeks, a family to support, and people who had uprooted their lives because they believed in my vision. Walking away felt impossible. And yet, deep down, I knew what I had to do.
The next day, I called the company owners and resigned. I told them to keep everything I had created—the plan, the strategies, the dream—and to use it to make a difference. The moment I hung up, an intense wave of failure hit me. Anxiety burned in my chest, and I felt like I had let everyone down—my family, my team, myself.
But not two hours later, I got a text from an old friend asking if I could jump on a call. That conversation introduced me to a world I knew little about: stem cells and regenerative medicine. The more I learned, the more I realized this was my new path. This was where I was meant to apply the vision I’d crafted.
The idea for Hazel Health was born that day—not out of abundance, but out of sheer willpower and a belief that this mission was worth pursuing. With no resources, no guarantees, and no safety net, I set out to create a company that would combine innovation with purpose, using stem cells to transform lives.
Looking back, that decision to walk away didn’t make sense in the moment, but it was the test I needed to pass to uncover the blessing waiting on the other side. Every doubt, every failure, every sleepless night led to something greater than I could have imagined.
The lesson? Sometimes the hardest decisions—the ones that defy logic and challenge everything you think you know—are the ones that bring you closer to your purpose. Blessings come after the test. Always