Sherry Dial | Owner of Dial Services LLC

As my tiny toddler frame lay on the hospital bed, my mother stood nearby, heart pounding with fear. She often recounts the memory in vivid detail—the sterile room, cold medical instruments, and the machines beeping in rhythm with my shallow breaths. I was in a coma, unresponsive.

My parents didn’t know if I would survive. Nurses and doctors poked and prodded, but I didn’t stir.

The world outside moved on, but for my family, time froze in that hospital room.

I was too young to remember it all, but growing up, I would hear stories of how I narrowly escaped death. I defied the odds and pulled through.

Why was I still here? Why was I spared?

My mother often reminded me how fragile life was. “You are here for a reason, Sherry.” That message sank in deeply.

Once I was old enough to understand, life took on a new meaning. I started noticing the little things—each moment felt sharper, clearer, with renewed perspective. Like when I looked back at a photo of me in my Montessori preschool, smiling so big it almost looked like I was about to burst. I wasn’t just a toddler in that picture. I was someone who had been given a second chance.

I made education my new mission. I wasn’t just learning—I was devouring knowledge. Books felt like the key to my future, and in many ways, they were.

Life wasn’t always easy. We moved frequently, often to places barely suitable. Some winters, when the kerosene heater barely kept us warm, we huddled together in one room—blankets piled high. On Christmas mornings, kind souls from church would bring us presents. One year, I got my dream gift, an Easy-Bake Oven. Those acts of kindness left a lasting impression.

But life didn’t get easier.

My parents’ divorce shook my world. One day, we were a family, and the next, everything felt broken. My older brother had to grow up quickly, taking on chores and responsibilities that my younger siblings and I wouldn’t fully recall but would come to appreciate deeply. Even though my parents divorced, my dad worked hard. He often took jobs in hot factories, even riding a bicycle to save on gas, to ensure he paid child support. He took time with us to weekend outings like movies and bowling on the weekends and attended my ballet recitals and track meets.

But at night, I could hear my mom crying, trying to hold it together for us. It hurt, but I knew we’d get through it.

That’s when I realized—I wasn’t just surviving anymore. I was growing. I was adapting.

Yes, life was hard, but I found a way to see the bright side, believing there was always something good, no matter how small. Every challenge was a lesson that helped me grow stronger.

My parents instilled in my three siblings and I the importance of hard work, a zeal for education, and a love for the gospel of Jesus Christ. Those early trials shaped my resilience and outlook.

I didn’t just see the glass as half full; I saw it overflowing with opportunities and lessons. Each hardship made me more determined to help others lighten their burdens.

As I grew older, my life’s purpose became clearer. I was blessed with the gift of charity—the desire to care for others and lift them up. As a mother, businesswoman, and friend, I try to live this purpose every day.

I’ve been given the ability to teach and lead with kindness and understanding. These gifts are not just for me—they are meant to serve those around me.

The challenges of my past are stepping stones that lead me toward this path. I feel called not just to learn but to lead.

Through it all, I’m reminded to stay humble, to find joy in simple moments, and to keep a sense of humor through life’s ups and downs.

I realize now what Heavenly Father wants for me. He wants me to be a woman of integrity. He wants me to continuously learn and reach my divine potential. He wants me to be a light to those around me.

He wants me to share my journey and strengthen others. As I reflect on all I’ve been through, I know my purpose is to love and lift.

It wasn’t about me; it was about what I could do for others. My struggles—my near-death experience, my parents’ divorce—it all makes sense. These experiences have shaped me into someone strong enough to give without expecting in return. To honor the gift of my life by helping others recognize their own.

Now, as I sit here reflecting on my journey, I can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Gratitude for the second chance I got as a child. Gratitude for the path that led me to share this story, knowing it’s not just mine, but one that will ripple through generations to come.

Each day, I wake up knowing I have the opportunity to keep pushing forward through charity, teaching, and service.

And in the end, isn’t that what life is all about?