The Work Worth Doing

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.”

She grew up in a family of music, lived a life of harmony, and passed on a spark that still sings in the voices of others. For Susan Mueller, music was never just notes on a page. It was a way to see the spark in others and to give them courage to sing it out.

When asked what it means to be a storyteller, she doesn’t hesitate. “It’s about connection,” she said. “I want people to feel seen, understood, and not alone. If I can bring someone joy or comfort—even for a moment—that’s enough.”

“We served ten people that first day,” she recalls. By year’s end, they had served more than 32,000 meals. In 2024 alone, nearly 65,000 meals were served. Over 25 years, that number exceeds two million.