From the first brave moment to the lifelong mission—this is the work that changes everything.
The Work Worth Doing is a storytelling series celebrating women who lead with heart, vision, and purpose. Sometimes they follow the spark. Other times, it finds them—through an inner nudge, a moment of truth, or an unexpected door.
Some lead organizations. Others mentor behind the scenes, build creative ventures, or nurture change in their communities. What unites them is the courage to step forward and do the work that matters.
This series is about more than what these women do. It’s about why they do it—and who they become along the way.
How a teacher, a watercolor brush, and the courage to say yes led Amy Jenkins to a gallery filled with light. Amy Jenkins stood inside the Lyon Gallery surrounded by paintings that had once existed only as ideas in her mind. Gallery lights beamed down onto rows of...
Years before Moxie had windows on Second Street, Christie was a little girl standing in Montgomery Ward with her mother, studying displays and noticing the outfits on the mannequins.
“Every person is a reflection of their Maker,” she says. “What color on the palette are you? The older I get, the more genuine love I feel for people and the beauty they bring to the world.”
“I know my many failings,” she adds, “but I feel completely loved by God—and I want other people to feel that.”
She calls it prospecting for gold—looking for the beauty inside people who might not see it themselves.
“You aren’t just creative,” a friend once told her. “You’re a prospector of people.”
In middle school and high school, that instinct translated into involvement. She stayed after class to help teachers, created posters for clubs, attended ball games, sang in choir, and played volleyball, anything that kept her connected to people rather than sitting on the sidelines.
“Volunteering gave me connection,” she says. “I became the one people could count on.”
At Baylor University, Amanda’s world widened. She arrived on a full-ride scholarship, the first in her family to attend and graduate from college. For her, college wasn’t modeled or inherited. It was a door she opened herself.
Marjorie’s earliest memories center on her mother’s kitchen table.
Every evening, her mom set the table intentionally, with plates lined up, food served family-style, laughter filling the space.
“My mom believed dinner wasn’t just about eating. It was about caring for people,” Marjorie says. “She showed love through food.”
She remembers waking up to the smell of donuts or her mother’s farmer’s breakfast: eggs, potatoes, and sausage sizzling in the pan.
“That smell meant love,” she says. “It meant belonging.”
A woman waits in the open ocean between islands, arm lifted for balance as she holds position for the next crew change. No shoreline. No applause. Only breath, patience, and instinct.
The Molokai Channel didn’t create her courage.
It revealed what had always been there.
For Keri, leadership isn’t about hierarchy—it’s about transformation. As a teacher, she watched understanding dawn on students’ faces. As a provost, she sees it in faculty who feel supported and empowered. The thread is always the same: create space where others can grow.
There was a plaque on her desk, DeVry’s most prestigious honor, the PRIDE Award, engraved with her name as the company’s top recruiter.
For Ronda Riden-Wilson, it was more than a trophy. It validated her ability to see people clearly, match them with opportunity, and help them believe in what was possible.
She had outpaced everyone in the field. It was a perfect role, fast-paced, people-focused, deeply intuitive. The next step seemed obvious: move to Chicago. Accept a promotion. Keep climbing.
But her path was about to shift.
Her most important advice?
“Know what your gifts are, and just as important, know what they’re not. And be okay with that.”
In a world full of pressure to do it all, Sherri models something different: authenticity, purpose, and self-awareness.
“Bring your own light,” she says. “We need all kinds of leadership. Yours included.”