One summer, we decided to "employ" Jillian's older siblings as her physical and occupational therapy team. The plan was simple: work on the goals from her school-year therapy sessions throughout the summer. They earned $5 for each session, but what they gained was so much more. With endless encouragement, creativity, and determination, they celebrated several incredible milestones with her that summer. Jillian learned to jump, to walk down the stairs independently, and to strengthen her hands through playful exercises like using a pair of kitchen tongs to pick up marshmallows. What looked like a simple game was actually important work, building skills one tiny victory at a time. They were absolutely beaming with pride, and so were we. Just this week, during RISE Together, I watched Jillian confidently use a pair of tongs to take hot dogs off the grill. In an instant, I was transported back to those summer afternoons around our kitchen table, watching her siblings patiently encourage her to squeeze the tongs just enough to grab another marshmallow. It was one of those beautiful full-circle moments that reminds you progress is built over years, often in ways you don't recognize until much later. Looking back now, it's impossible not to smile at where those early experiences led. This summer, Jillian's older sister, Grey, graduated from Western Michigan University with her Doctor of Occupational Therapy degree. It's remarkable to see those early threads woven into the path she would eventually choose for her life's work. What began as a loving sister helping her little sibling for a few dollars a session became the foundation of a career dedicated to helping others achieve their own milestones. That summer also taught our family a lesson that has stayed with us ever since: sometimes the greatest progress doesn't come from experts or carefully designed programs. It comes from the people who know us best—our siblings, our friends, our peers, and our loved ones—simply showing up, believing in us, cheering us on, and refusing to give up. Those afternoons filled with laughter, encouragement, and determination remain some of my most treasured memories. Watching the older kids patiently coach Jillian through each small victory reminded me that love is often the most powerful form of therapy. Those moments weren't just about learning to jump, mastering the stairs, or picking up marshmallows with tongs. They were about belonging, believing, and discovering what can happen when the people who love you walk beside you every step of the way.