10/16/2026
IMPACT. Sometimes You Never Know What You Meant to Someone. ❤️
Last night, I spent quite some time on the phone with a friend. We talked about life. The hard parts. The beautiful parts. The ways we’ve changed, the things we’ve survived, and the strange feeling of sometimes being a fish in a flying school.
Yes, you read that right. 😂
We laughed about how sometimes it feels like we’re meant for the deep ocean, yet somehow we find ourselves swimming around in a little pond.
I’ve always felt things deeply. I’ve always wanted to understand people beyond the surface. Their stories. Their pain. Their joy. The things they carry that the rest of the world never sees.
And sometimes, if I’m being vulnerable, that has made me feel like an outsider.
I haven’t always had an easy relationship with this thing called life.
There have been seasons of deep grief, depression, loneliness, and moments when simply wanting to stay on this planet was difficult.
Those feelings began when I was just a little girl.
A little girl who desperately wanted to feel safe. To belong. To be loved without conditions. To be seen and heard by the very people who were supposed to protect her.
And somewhere along the way, that little girl grew up and opened a coffeehouse.
For 16 years, I owned Lotus Up Espresso & Deli.
People might have thought I was in the business of selling coffee.
But I wasn’t.
I was in the business of connection.
The coffee was simply how I got to meet the people.
I loved remembering your drinks. I loved knowing your names. I loved hearing about your children, your vacations, your accomplishments, and even the things that were breaking your hearts.
And yes, sometimes we talked WAY too long at that drive-through window. 😂
But those conversations mattered to me.
Because I knew what it felt like to go through life wondering if anyone really saw you.
I wanted to create the very thing I had needed so desperately as a child.
A place to belong.
A place where you didn’t have to have it all together.
A place where, even for five minutes, somebody knew your name.
Over those 16 years, I met some of the most incredible humans.
I met people celebrating new babies, new jobs, marriages, and milestones.
And I met people whose worlds had completely fallen apart.
I remember a woman who came through my drive-through after her daughter had been murdered.
There are no words that can make that kind of grief disappear.
I couldn’t fix it.
I couldn’t bring her daughter home.
But I could make her a cup of coffee.
I could look her in the eyes.
I could love her in the only way I knew how in that moment.
Sometimes love doesn’t come with answers.
Sometimes love comes in a paper cup with a lid.
I think about my employees, too.
I used to tell them that Lotus Up was a resting place, not necessarily their forever home.
I wanted them to grow. To discover who they were. To know their worth beyond a paycheck or a job title.
Did I always get it right?
Absolutely not.
There were hard decisions. Mistakes. Misunderstandings. Moments I wish I could revisit with the wisdom I have today.
There were also seasons in my personal life when I was fighting battles that very few people understood.
My divorce was one of those seasons.
Having things said about you that aren’t true, or only tell part of the story, can make you question how people see you.
And when you’ve grown up learning that the people who are supposed to protect you sometimes hurt you, trusting others doesn’t always come easily.
I’ve spent much of my life learning how to love people deeply while also learning how to feel safe myself.
And I am still learning.
But something happened recently that touched a place in my heart I didn’t even realize needed touching.
I reached out to a young woman named Zoe.
Years ago, she worked at Lotus Up. I watched her walk through some incredibly difficult seasons, and I also watched her create something beautiful out of her pain.
She started a project called A Cup of Prevention.
She sang. She created. She helped me gather things when I was working on Lotus Vision. She dreamed.
And today, I get to watch her use her incredible gift of photography to capture families and their memories. I get to watch her be a mother. I get to see the beautiful life she continues to create.
She reminds me to be playful. To be childlike. To remember that joy still exists even when the world feels heavy.
I reached out simply to tell her how proud I was of her.
And her response brought me to tears.
She shared how much it meant that someone had seen her, believed her, and held space for her during one of the darkest seasons of her life.
And then she thanked me for being that person.
I sat with those words.
Because the truth is, I didn’t know.
I didn’t know the depth of the impact those moments had made.
I was just loving someone the best way I knew how.
And it made me wonder…
How many people have we impacted without ever knowing?
How many times has a conversation, a hug, a prayer, a cup of coffee, or a simple I believe you become something another human carried with them for years?
How many seeds have we planted that we never got to see grow?
And how often do we convince ourselves that we’re not doing enough because we can’t see the harvest?
I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.
Since closing the coffeehouse, my life has become much quieter.
I’ve become a bit of a hermit, if I’m being completely truthful.
I’ve needed the stillness. The rest. The space to process what life has been teaching me.
But I’ve also noticed something happening in the world around me.
So many people are hurting.
Grieving people they’ve lost.
Navigating illness.
Struggling financially.
Watching friendships or relationships fall apart.
Feeling disconnected, misunderstood, or completely alone.
And somewhere along the way, it feels like we’ve forgotten how to simply sit beside one another in our differences.
When did belonging become something we had to earn by agreeing?
When did having a different perspective mean we couldn’t still love each other?
I don’t need you to believe everything I believe.
I don’t need you to see the world through my eyes.
In fact, I love learning from people who see life differently than I do.
That’s how we grow.
That’s how we develop compassion.
That’s how we begin to understand that every person we meet is carrying a story we may know nothing about.
Connection doesn’t require agreement. It requires humanity.
Lately, when I see someone hurting on social media, I’ve been trying to reach out.
Sometimes all I can offer is a prayer.
Sometimes it’s a message.
Sometimes it’s simply letting someone know they’re not invisible.
And maybe that’s enough for that moment.
Because I keep coming back to something that has lived in my heart for years.
Me too. Now what?
Me too. I’ve been hurt.
Me too. I’ve experienced grief.
Me too. I’ve felt alone.
Me too. I’ve wondered how I was going to get through another day.
Me too. I’ve had to rebuild a life I never expected to be rebuilding.
But now what?
What if we stopped believing we had to navigate all of this alone?
What if we created spaces where people could come exactly as they are?
Not to be fixed.
Not to be judged.
Not to be told how they should feel.
But simply to be seen. To be heard. To belong.
That’s the heartbeat behind what I’m feeling called to create through Lotus Vision and the Next Level Collective.
I’m beginning to feel that familiar pull again.
The pull to gather people.
To create community.
To host another retreat.
To make room for the difficult conversations, the laughter, the tears, the prayers, and the beautiful realization that we are far more alike than we sometimes allow ourselves to believe.
I don’t have all the details figured out yet.
And for once, I’m okay with that.
Maybe this season of quiet wasn’t about disappearing.
Maybe it was about being prepared.
Maybe God was reminding me that the purpose was never really tied to a building, a business, or a drive-through window.
The purpose was always about people.
And that purpose didn’t end when I locked the coffeehouse doors.
It simply began looking different.
Last night, my friend helped me see something I think I’ve struggled to recognize in myself.
Impact isn’t always loud.
It isn’t always measurable.
It doesn’t always come with recognition or applause.
Sometimes it’s a woman remembering that you made her coffee when her world was falling apart.
Sometimes it’s a former employee telling you years later that you helped her feel believed.
Sometimes it’s a friend reminding you that even when you feel like a fish in a flying school, there’s room in this world for the way you were created to see it.
And sometimes it’s a little girl who spent years searching for belonging, growing into a woman who wants to make sure other people know they belong.
Maybe that’s what all of this has been about.
Not becoming someone extraordinary.
But recognizing the extraordinary impact of simply loving ordinary people through the hardest and most beautiful moments of their lives.
So here’s what I want to leave you with today.
Please don’t underestimate the impact you have on the people around you.
Reach out.
Make the phone call.
Send the message.
Say the prayer.
Wave at the person passing by.
Tell someone you believe in them.
And if you’ve been struggling, if life has been heavy, if you’ve felt alone in your own little pond…
Me too.
Now what?
Maybe we start by finding each other again.
Because I still believe with my whole heart that love always wins.
And I believe God can use even the smallest acts of kindness to remind another human that they matter.
You matter. You belong. And your life makes an impact, even on the days you cannot see it. ❤️
I’d love to ask you something: Has someone ever done something small for you that made a lasting impact on your life? Have you ever told them?
Maybe today is the day. 🤍
📸 by Zoe Keehn
