The past couple of weeks have been a blur of airports, algorithms, and emotional plot twists, the kind of stretch that reminds you that “balance” is more of a verb than a state of being.

I flew out last Sunday afternoon for a major conference, a sea of global innovators, technologists, and dreamers shaping the future. The timing worked out perfectly: the event was near my parents’ home, so when they picked me up from the airport, we went straight out to dinner. That first night felt like a deep exhale, good food, familiar conversation, and the comfort of being their kid again before diving into a week of business sessions and buzzwords.

The conference itself was impressive with thousands of people from around the world, all exploring how AI is transforming industries and lives. I left inspired about how innovation can serve people, communities, and businesses. It was a success on all fronts, professionally fulfilling, personally exhausting, and yes, still somehow sprinkled with a few of life’s “you can’t make this up” moments.

Conferences always offer a mix of inspiration and observation, reminders of how people show up, both professionally and personally. This week reinforced for me that integrity and respect aren’t optional; they’re the quiet forces that define our character long after the business cards are filed away.

I was reminded again how firm my boundaries have become. I used to feel flattered by attention; now I just feel tired by insincerity. Somewhere along the way, self-respect became my biggest flirt.

But life doesn’t pause for reflection, does it?

In the final hour of my redeye home, my dog sitter messaged that Sadie was hurt and couldn’t stand. My heart sank. I rushed home from the airport, running on no sleep and pure adrenaline, and took her straight to the vet. My sweet girl just can’t seem to catch a break.

Thankfully, I called in reinforcements, my daughter, who caught a redeye herself to help. Watching her care for Sadie reminded me how purpose often shows up in the people we love and raise, and in how we show up for each other when life tilts sideways.

And while juggling all that, I was also navigating our 2026 business budget. To top it off, one of my most valuable employees gave notice, planning to leave for a competitor. That one stopped me in my tracks. It forced me to step back and really ask whether we’re doing enough to show our appreciation for the people helping us drive this business forward.

Fortunately, because of the mutual respect we’ve built, and my understanding of his long-term career goals, I was able to pivot and retain him. But the situation reminded me again: it’s easy to get caught up in numbers and deadlines and forget that our greatest investments are the people who believe in us.

Somewhere between the conference hall, the vet’s office, and the budget spreadsheets, I heard a question that’s been echoing ever since:

“If you could ask God one question, what would it be?”

And the person’s answer was, “What is my purpose?”

That question lingers. Because purpose isn’t a destination; it’s a moving target. Sometimes it looks like leading a team, building partnerships, or standing your ground in a world that occasionally underestimates your integrity. Other times, it looks like a red-eyed daughter holding a dog in her arms, or a leader realizing that people matter more than profit.

And right now, my purpose might simply be love; the kind that shows up through tears and tough choices. Because as I sit here beside Sadie, I know I’ll soon have to decide whether her days still hold enough joy to keep her tail wagging, or if keeping her here is more about my need to not let go.

Either way, I’ll keep asking the question.

Because maybe the purpose isn’t to find the answer, but to keep living in a way that honors the love, the lessons, and the moments that shape us.