đż Lifeâs ThreadsđȘĄ - The Privilege of Being Invited Inside
On trust, belonging, and the beauty of being invited in.
Before the doors opened, the lights were still warming up.
Thatâs how Riley remembered it.
Jack and Maryanne waiting with coffee in hand, the smell of cinnamon rolls coming from the kitchen, and that quiet sense of being trusted with something not quite finished.
She didnât realize it at first, but the invitation itself changed her.
They could have hired anyone to design the addition for the Canyon Café. Instead, they asked her to come early, to see the space before the crowds arrived, before the noise, before the perfection.
They handed her a key.
Thatâs what being seen can feel like someone handing you a key.
Not because you earned it, but because they believe youâll know what to do with it.
đ€ Iâve been thinking about that a lot lately.
The feeling of being invited in before something is ready.
Before the world sees it polished and framed.
Most of us know the other side too well. The one where youâre kept at the edge, waiting to be called in only when everything looks presentable.
Itâs safer that way, I suppose. But something is lost when we only show people the finished version.
When someone invites you in early, itâs not about privilege, itâs about trust. Theyâre saying, âYou can handle the mess. Youâll still care about it even when itâs half-formed.â
That kind of trust builds something stronger than applause. It builds belonging.
đȘ Iâve been on both sides of that door.
In my years of coaching, Iâve sat with people while their projects were still a tangle of ideas and exhaustion. They didnât need advice so much as presence.
And sometimes, Iâve been the one standing there, holding a dream that wasnât ready for anyone else to see yet.
When someone looked at it and said, âI believe in this,â before it was ready, that stayed with me longer than any praise that came later.
Rileyâs story at the Canyon CafĂ© isnât really about architecture. Itâs about being trusted to hold something while itâs still fragile.
Jack and Maryanne didnât need a decorator. They needed someone who could see potential through the dust.
And Riley, after all her years of designing other peopleâs visions, needed that, too. She needed to remember what it feels like to be included before the grand opening.
When Val joined her to build the herb patio, and Raven came to help in the kitchen, it wasnât just work. It was community. Every one of them knew the weight of being invited in early. Theyâd each had seasons of feeling left out or overlooked.
This time, they were on the inside together, creating something they could all belong to.
Thatâs why the soft opening matters so much.
By the time the cafĂ© filled with light and laughter, it wasnât just a celebration. It was gratitude. For being seen, for being trusted, and for being asked to come in before it was perfect.
Thatâs what I hope my readers feel when they open these posts.
Like youâve been invited into something still taking shape.
Not polished, not finished, but alive.
The truth is, I donât have everything figured out either.
The stories, the reflections, the women of Echo CanyonâŠtheyâre still being built, one conversation at a time.
When you show up here, comment, or read quietly from the edges, youâre stepping into the kitchen with me before the doors open.
And whether you realize it or not, that means something. It says, You belong in the making of this.
And belonging, at any age, is the most creative act of all.
So maybe thatâs the lesson tucked inside Rileyâs new patio and those silver herb troughs.
We donât just build spaces for people to sit.
We build spaces where people can stay a little longer, because they are part of what makes it beautiful.
Iâve recently opened two doors to my stories.
The first door leads into the fiction: the drafted chapters, the daily doses, and a few reflections on what itâs like to become a novelist in my seventies. Always free.
The second door is wider, and I dare you to be brave enough to step through it. Inside Story Insiders, youâll join the women of the canyon as they share their most private pages. The ones free readers never see. Youâll sit at the table with me and feel what itâs like to live this next chapter, together.
Sometimes the real story begins after the page ends.
Iâm inviting you to come inside. What happens next isnât for everyone to see.




I love this idea!