Holding Hope and Heartbreak Together

As I settle into the Pink Chair today, I'm still carrying yesterday with me.

Interview Day.

Words don't fully capture it, but let me try to take you there.

The girls come in one at a time. Some are poised and composed. Some are visibly nervous, fidgeting with their hands, choosing their words carefully. All of them are hoping. You can feel it in the room — this quiet, urgent hope that someone will see them and say yes.

I've been reading their applications for nearly three months. I know their stories before they walk through the door. I know who works two jobs to help her family. Who lost a parent. Who has been dreaming about college since she was eight years old and wasn't sure it was really possible for someone like her.

And then she walks in. And she's even more than I imagined.

That happens every single time.

By the end of the day, I'm full — full of admiration, full of emotion, full of the particular weight that comes with knowing what happens next.

Because for every yes, there is a no.

That's the part that stays with me long after the interviews end. These girls are all worthy. Every single one. And still, we can only say yes to so few. I find myself wondering about the ones we couldn't choose — who will walk beside them when college gets hard? Who will be there when they can't afford their textbooks, or when they're sitting alone in a dorm room, wondering if they belong?

The weight of that is real.

But so is this: because of you, some of these young women will step onto campus knowing they are not alone. Because of you, the answer is yes for girls who need it most. Because of you, belief becomes something tangible — something they can actually hold onto.

The Pink Chair is carrying a lot today. Gratitude and heartbreak, side by side.

Thank you for making the yeses possible.

With deep appreciation,

Ginny