When the Pawn Shop Can’t See Your Worth

This past week has been heavy.

Not just in the obvious ways, but in the kind that presses on old bruises you didn’t know were still sore. I’ve been wrestling with questions I thought I’d settled. Wondering if the things I offer—what I know carry value—are being received at face value… or not at all.

And honestly? That ache is hard to name.

I heard a story recently that I haven’t been able to shake.

A dad gave his daughter an old car for graduation. It didn’t look like much—weathered, rusty, not even running. She was disappointed and planned to sell it. But before she did, her dad asked her to try three things:

First, take it to a dealership and ask what they’d offer.She did. “They said $1,000,” she reported. “Not worth much.”

Second, he said, “Try a pawn shop.”She returned: “They offered $100. Said it was basically junk.”

Lastly, he said, “Go to a classic car show in the next city. See what happens.”

She came home lit up. “Dad! They were bidding on it—one man offered $100,000! Turns out it’s rare. Valuable!”

And her dad said something that keeps echoing in my heart:

“Just because someone can’t see your value doesn’t mean it isn’t real. It just means you’re in the wrong place.”

That landed like a holy whisper.

Because if I’m honest, I’ve been feeling like I’m living in the pawn shop—offering something of deep worth in places that can’t always recognize or reflect it.

But then something else happened.

Months ago, a dear friend asked if my family would help choreograph a surprise father-daughter dance for her upcoming wedding. It was a joy-filled yes. My daughter and I created the choreography. My husband and I spent weeks helping them practice. We laughed, encouraged, and watched the connection grow.

Then, just nine days before the wedding, her dad passed away unexpectedly.

The heartbreak… there are no words.

The funeral was a sacred tribute. The wedding somehow became both a celebration of joy and a space for honoring deep sorrow.

But what I keep holding onto is this:Because of that dance, they didn’t just share a moment together.They shared months of intentional time.Laughter. Movement. Togetherness.Something that would have otherwise slipped by.

That—that is the kind of offering I want to give the world. Not polished or perfect, but deeply human. Timely. Timeless.

And it reminded me:

Sometimes the way we change lives isn’t through a business model or a stage.Sometimes it’s simply through presence.Being willing to show up fully with what we already carry.

I want to live from that space.But like so many, I’m still navigating how to make it sustainable. How to do this kind of sacred work without burning out or shrinking back.

Maybe you’ve felt that, too.

Maybe you’ve poured out from a place of deep knowing only to feel unseen or under appreciated. Maybe you’ve been told your calling doesn’t quite “fit.” That it’s hard to define. That the world doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

If that’s you—I just want to say:

It’s not your value that’s lacking. It’s the room you’re in.

So don’t settle for the pawn shop.

Don’t sell short what heaven calls rare.

You are not forgotten. You are not late. You are not too much or too little.

You’re just still becoming.And there’s room for you in that.

If this resonates with you, I’d love to hear what it stirs.Maybe you’ve felt misplaced. Or maybe you’re finally realizing where you do belong.

Either way—you're not alone.

And when you're ready to take your next step, I’ll be here.

With every step,

Marcy