Trust the Process.
Build the Legacy.

For as long as I can remember, 8:27 has followed me.

On clocks. Receipts. Screenshots. Completely ordinary moments in the middle of ordinary days.

It happened often enough that I started documenting it. I always wondered why those numbers seemed to show up.

For years, I thought maybe someday they would point me toward something.

It turns out they were teaching me something instead.

A decision—and a direction

In January 2025, after 22 years in corporate America—including 16 years at Boeing leading people, strategy, organizations, and enterprise-scale work—I walked away from a career I had spent decades building.

I wasn’t running away from corporate life. I was running toward something I couldn’t quite see yet.

I knew I wanted to build something meaningful. Something that brought together the work I was good at, the things I cared deeply about, and the people I wanted to spend my life serving.

And I wanted to build something my family could someday look at and say: She built that.

The next nearly twenty months weren’t a straight line. There were pivots. Wrong turns. New ideas. Scrapped ideas. Long nights. Hard questions. Breakthroughs. And more than a few moments when I wondered whether I had made the right decision.

But somewhere in the middle of all that uncertainty, the answer became incredibly clear: athletes—and the families behind them.

And then there’s the mountain

The mountain in our brand is Mt. Rainier. It was hand-drawn for The Kanvass, but its meaning began long before this company existed.

When I was young, my family and I experienced more than one new beginning. On one of those drives toward a new life, my mom pointed out Mount Si and told me to see it as our fresh start.

Mt. Rainier was her favorite. She taught me to look for mountains. To notice them. To look up.

Years later, my family lives in Lake Tapps, where Mt. Rainier appears whenever the Pacific Northwest sky decides to cooperate.

And somewhere along the way, one of my favorite sayings became: Live like the mountain is out.

Because when the mountain is out here, everything feels a little different. You notice. You appreciate. You don’t assume you’ll get the same view tomorrow.

To me, it means: show up while you have the opportunity. Don’t wait for perfect conditions. Notice what’s already in front of you. Take the picture. Make the call. Take the risk. Build the thing.

Live like the mountain is out.

And if the mountain isn’t out, look for it tomorrow. That’s the hope and the promise.

That philosophy is woven into The Kanvass.

8:27, one more time

Then, days before launch, I stopped in my tracks at a local boutique. On a sweatshirt were my numbers—8:27—and the words Be Still.

I paused. I took a photo. And I went looking for the verse and the story.

Those words led me back to the story of Jesus calming the storm. In Mark, Jesus commands the storm to be still. In Matthew’s account, the disciples respond after the storm is calmed—and there it was: Matthew 8:27.

For the first time, I stopped seeing 8:27 as something pointing toward a destination. I saw it as a reminder.

The storm doesn’t mean you’re on the wrong path. Uncertainty doesn’t mean stop.

You can move with conviction without knowing every step ahead. Sometimes clarity arrives only after you’ve been willing to walk forward without it.

That is exactly what building The Kanvass required.

Whether you read that through faith, intuition, synchronicity, or simply persistence, the message landed the same way for me: trust the process.