Gratitude is a word we often reserve for holidays, milestones and the big moments that make it easy to feel thankful. But this past year has taught me that gratitude is something steadier — something to be practiced, especially when life feels heavy.
As many of you know, my son Cooper has been in treatment for leukemia. Nothing prepares a parent for that. There is fear, yes, but there is also a strange clarity that comes with walking through something so hard. Every day becomes more precious. Small moments suddenly feel like gifts. And you learn quickly what matters and what doesn’t.
But I also find myself thinking about my earlier years as a single mother — the kind of hard that looks different, but cuts just as deep. The years when we didn’t have the money to buy groceries or presents. When the power bill felt like a mountain. When I could barely stretch a paycheck far enough to keep us going. One year, I went to the food bank to pick up a Thanksgiving turkey, even though we were having dinner at my mom’s house. That turkey became meals for the week after, and it fed my family when we had no other way to make it work.
I will never forget what it felt like to stand in that line. I will never forget what it felt like to need help.
And now, all these years later, I carry that history into my role as your county commissioner. I am grateful — with every meeting, every policy discussion, every decision I’m entrusted to make — that I get to show up for this community with lived experience that keeps me grounded. Every day, I get to think about how we can ease the burden on families across Thurston County. How we can make access to housing, food, mental-health care, transportation, public safety and basic stability easier and more attainable. How we can build systems that treat people with dignity.
Gratitude, for me, isn’t passive. It’s a responsibility.
