Turning forty is often framed as a milestone of arrival. For me, it is something far more sacred: a milestone I was not always certain I would reach. My early years were marked by significant personal trials: near-death accidents, a season of facial paralysis, complex reproductive health battles including fibroids, adenomyosis and endometriosis, the private grief of infertility, business disappointments, personal failures and seasons of immense loss. There were moments when the future felt uncertain, when long-term planning felt aspirational rather than guaranteed. Longevity was never something I took for granted. Yet surviving is not the same as living. Somewhere between hospital rooms, boardrooms, classrooms and prayer closets, a shift…