There are moments in life when the weight of an assignment becomes so heavy that you begin to wonder whether you still have the strength to carry it, and if I am being honest, I have been sitting in one of those moments.
Recently, I found myself alone in my home with a very heavy heart, considering whether it was time to sell Scroll.care, close Scroll.care, or finally admit that perhaps this journey had become too difficult and too costly to continue. That is not easy for me to say, because the design, launch, and scaling of Scroll.care has been the culmination of my life’s work, and yet the road has been far more arduous than I could have imagined. It has required sacrifice, endurance, financial resources, emotional strength, and a depth of faith that I did not always know I had.
Building something new is difficult under any circumstance, but building something intended to challenge a broken system is a different kind of work. It asks something of you that a normal business does not ask. It asks you to keep believing before the market fully understands. It asks you to keep explaining when people are not yet listening. It asks you to keep refining, investing, presenting, adjusting, and moving forward when the traction has not come as quickly as you hoped. And lately, I have been frustrated, not because I have stopped believing in the mission, but because I know how deeply this is needed and yet I have not always known how to get the message into the hands and hearts of the people who need it most.
Then I went to church, and I was confronted in a way I could not ignore.
The message was about Kairos — a season, an appointed time, a set time for purpose. There is chronological time, the kind of time we measure with calendars, business plans, launch schedules, investor timelines, spreadsheets, and projections, and then there is God’s appointed time, the time when He places a demand on a person to pull something out of them, they did not even know existed. Sitting there, listening to the words of the pastor and feeling the conviction of the Holy Spirit, I knew this was not simply a sermon I was hearing. It was an answer.
I had been praying, “Lord, I am struggling so much with this time in my life. Show me that I am in the right season.” And what I heard was not a release to walk away from the mission. What I heard was a call to trust the plans of God above my own, to stop shrinking from the assignment, and to understand that this is not the time to give up. This is the time to become clearer, stronger, more obedient, and more bold.
Like Jesus, I believe we each have a mission, a God-given purpose to fulfill, and while I would never compare my life to His sacrifice, I do understand more deeply now that purpose is not always comfortable, popular, or easy to explain. Purpose can be lonely. It can be costly. It can require you to stand in places others do not understand. It can require you to continue when everything in your natural mind says it would be easier to stop.
For me, Scroll.care is not simply a company. It is an assignment that was born from years of sitting with families in crisis, watching adult children try to navigate hospital discharges, dementia behaviors, home safety concerns, medications, insurance questions, transportation needs, family conflict, and long-term care decisions with no clear roadmap. It was born from watching spouses quietly disappear under the weight of caregiving. It was born from seeing excellent, compassionate, local Care Service Providers struggle to be found by the very families who needed them. It was born from the painful realization that the internet can give people names, but it does not always give them trust, clarity, or the right next step.
That is why Scroll.care exists. Scroll.care was built to change the way people access Care Service Providers by creating a trusted pathway between families and vetted care professionals, because care should not be this fragmented, this confusing, this lonely, or this difficult to navigate.
And after what I heard and felt in church, I know this with certainty: I am not quitting.
I am not quitting because the problem is too real, the families are too overwhelmed, the providers are too important, and the need for a better way is too urgent. I am not quitting because this work did not come from convenience. It came from calling. And if there is a set time for purpose, then I believe this is the season when the work must move from quiet building into bold declaration.
One of the things that became clear to me is that there are relationships, models, habits, fears, and old ways of working that may no longer belong in this next season. Sometimes obedience does not mean walking away from the assignment. Sometimes it means walking away from what is no longer aligned with the assignment so that you can step forward into the new relationships, new rooms, new partnerships, and new work that God is placing in front of you.
That was one of the strongest impressions I received: walk away and step forward. Walk away from what has kept the mission small, quiet, or dependent on the wrong doors opening, and step forward into the communities, churches, providers, professionals, and families where there is real hunger for help.
The pastor said something that stayed with me deeply: Jesus’ miracles were dependent on the hunger and the faith of the people. Where there is hunger and faith, God shows up. That truth changed something in me, because I realized that I do not need to spend this next season trying to convince people who are not hungry. I need to go where the hunger already is.
And I know where the hunger is. It is in the home of the daughter who is quietly crying because she does not know how to keep her mother safe. It is in the heart of the spouse who has not slept through the night in months. It is in the family trying to understand a dementia diagnosis. It is in the church congregation where widows, aging parents, caregivers, and adult children are sitting in pews carrying private burdens that few people can see. It is in the office of the professional who wants to help a client but does not know where to send them. It is in the small Care Service Provider who is excellent at serving but struggling to be seen.
That is where Scroll.care must go, and that is where I must go.
I wrote in my notes, “Scroll in the church,” and while I do not yet know everything that will mean, I know that it means something important. Churches are filled with family caregivers. They are filled with aging parents, widows, spouses, adult children, and families who are carrying the quiet burden of care. If we truly believe in caring for widows, families, the vulnerable, the aging, and those who are overwhelmed, then care access must become part of the conversation.
This does not mean Scroll.care is only for people of faith. It is not. Scroll.care is for families, caregivers, providers, professionals, and communities who need a better way to access care. But I do believe the church can become one of the places where families are reminded that they were not meant to carry care alone, and where practical pathways to trusted help can be introduced with compassion, wisdom, and dignity.
Maybe that means educational events for family caregivers. Maybe it means helping churches build trusted care resource pathways. Maybe it means supporting elder ministry teams or teaching families how to build a circle of care before crisis strikes. Maybe it means bringing vetted providers into communities that are already hungry for help. I do not know the full shape of it yet, but I know the mission cannot stay hidden.
I also know that I cannot allow my faith to be squandered by fear, fatigue, disappointment, or the opinions of people who do not carry this assignment. I heard clearly that I am being called to get bold, even at the expense of being shunned. That is not an invitation to be reckless, careless, or arrogant. It is an invitation to stop apologizing for the work God has placed in my hands.
For too long, I have tried to explain Scroll.care in language that made everyone comfortable, but the truth is that the mission itself is not comfortable. It is not comfortable to say that families are being left to navigate care alone. It is not comfortable to say that our country has normalized family caregiver exhaustion. It is not comfortable to say that many excellent providers are buried under paid search engines, referral systems, and online noise. It is not comfortable to say that people often do not know who to trust until after a crisis has already happened.
But truth is often uncomfortable before it becomes necessary.
And the truth is that Scroll.care is not just a technology platform. It is a response to a national care access crisis. It is a bridge between overwhelmed families and trusted Care Service Providers. It is a call to organize care differently. It is a demand that we stop leaving caregivers alone with a search bar and a prayer. It is a belief that care should be easier to find, safer to choose, and more human to navigate.
So yes, this journey has been hard. Yes, it has cost us. Yes, there have been days when I have questioned everything. But I am still here, and more importantly, the mission is still here.
In God We Trust is not simply a phrase printed on currency, and it is not merely a national motto. For me, in this season, it has become a declaration. It means I will trust the plans of God above my own. It means I will keep building when the numbers do not yet tell the whole story. It means I will keep moving when the road is not easy. It means I will walk away from what is no longer aligned and step forward into the relationships, communities, churches, providers, and families that are part of this next season. It means I will stop asking for permission to fulfill the assignment.
The time is now. The need is real. The mission is clear. And I will not quit Scroll.care.
Not now. Not in the appointed season. Not when families still need a place to begin. Not when caregivers still need relief. Not when providers still need to be found. Not when the system still needs to change.
This is Kairos. This is a set time for purpose.
And I intend to answer it.don’t have to accept less than your family member deserves.
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