The wind pushed against the old glass door as he walked into the quiet conference room in downtown Omaha. His jacket was still dusted with snow, and his hands trembled slightly as he pulled out a chair. He looked at me with eyes that had seen too many long nights and too many unanswered questions.
“Isaiah… I think I’m losing my direction,” he said softly.
The room hummed with that familiar Nebraska silence the kind that feels honest and heavy at the same time. He opened his laptop, and dozens of tabs filled the screen. Marketing tutorials. Business articles. Pricing calculators. Videos from “experts” who didn’t know a thing about his life, his town, his people, his calling.
I closed the laptop gently.
“Tell me about the moment you knew you were meant to do this,” I said.
He paused, looked out the window at the falling snow, and whispered, “I wanted to build something that made my kids proud.”
There it was the clarity hidden under the noise.
We talked for three hours about what mattered, what didn’t, and what had been distracting him. By the end, his posture changed. His breathing steadied. He saw the path again, not because I gave him answers, but because I helped him rediscover what God already wrote inside him.
When he left that room, the snow had stopped. And so had his confusion.
If you’re ready to rediscover your direction, I’d be honored to guide you.
Help Me Find My Path
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