I have always been one of those people who needs to know why. Telling me, “You can’t do that,” is probably going to lead to at least three more questions because I need to understand why I can’t do it. Is it really something that can’t be done, or is that just the way it has always been done? Is there another way to accomplish the same thing? Is there something we haven’t considered? Is there a way to fix whatever is standing in the way?

That’s how my brain works.

It has served me well professionally because I am constantly taking things apart and putting them back together. I can look at a process everybody has been following for years and wonder why we’re doing steps two, seven, and eleven when none of them seem to accomplish anything. Before long, I’ve got the whole thing spread across my imaginary kitchen table trying to figure out whether we can put it back together better than we found it.

Sometimes we can, and sometimes we can’t. The harder part for somebody like me is accepting when can’t really is the answer.

Recently, I found myself working through a situation where someone needed help with something that, on the surface, seemed fairly simple. There wasn’t anything that immediately made me think somebody was trying to do something wrong. It was simply a person trying to accomplish something important under circumstances that made doing so incredibly difficult. I wanted to help, so naturally I started asking questions. What if we do it this way? Okay, that won’t work because of this requirement. Well, what about this way? Nope, there’s another requirement over there. Okay, but what if this particular circumstance applies? Would that change anything? Every time I found a door, I checked to see whether it actually opened.

I wasn’t looking for a way around what I was supposed to do. I was looking to see whether there was a right way through, and there is a difference.

I think sometimes we hear the word discernment and immediately make it something mystical or overly complicated. As a woman of faith, I absolutely believe there is a spiritual component to discernment. I believe there are times when the Creator puts something in your spirit that tells you something isn’t right. But I also believe the Creator gave us a brain and expects us to use that too. Discernment isn’t always some booming voice from Heaven saying, “Thou shalt not.” Sometimes discernment sounds a whole lot like, Girl, you better ask another question. 😂 And sometimes that next question changes everything.

Maybe this has been on my mind even more because I’m building Jones Ledger & Seal, and building a practice from the ground up has forced me to think about more than what services I want to offer.

I have to think about how I want to offer them, what standards I want attached to my name, and what kind of experience I want people to have when they trust me with something important. Every new service, every policy, and almost every “what if” scenario sends me down another road of questions. What am I responsible for? What does the law require? What does the client need? What happens when those things don’t line up neatly? And what does Jones Ledger & Seal stand for when the easiest answer and the right answer aren’t necessarily the same answer?

I don’t want to build a practice that says yes to everything just because there’s money attached to the yes. I want to build one where people know that if I tell them I can help them, I’ve done enough homework to know that I can help them and that I can do it properly. Sometimes that means researching something while hoping with everything in me that I find the legitimate yes, only to discover that the responsible answer is no. Sometimes the best service I can provide may be explaining why I can’t do what someone is asking me to do and helping them understand that another avenue needs to be explored. I may not make a dime from that conversation, but if someone walks away knowing I cared enough about their situation to investigate it instead of taking their money and hoping for the best, I haven’t lost anything. I’ve built trust, and I want trust to be worth something in my practice.

That’s what Accurate. Timely. Compliant. is supposed to mean for Jones Ledger & Seal. Those aren’t three words I chose because they looked good together on business materials. The more I build this practice, the more I realize they’re becoming a measuring stick. Can I do this accurately? Can I handle it within the appropriate time? Can I do it while remaining compliant with the laws, regulations, and professional responsibilities that apply to me? If one of those answers is no, then I need to figure out whether there’s a legitimate way to get it to yes. And if there isn’t, I need enough integrity to leave it at no.

That lesson reaches much further than business because there are consequences in life that don’t disappear simply because our intentions were good. “I was only trying to help” may explain why we made a decision, but it doesn’t necessarily protect us from what happens because of that decision. How many times have we known something wasn’t quite right but kept trying to make it work because we cared about the person? How many times have we ignored that little feeling telling us to ask one more question? How many times have we convinced ourselves something was okay because we understood why somebody was asking us to do it?

Understanding someone’s circumstances and agreeing to participate in something are two completely different things. You can have compassion for somebody and still tell them no. You can understand why they made a particular decision without making that decision with them. You can genuinely want to help somebody and still recognize that what they’re asking requires more than you’re willing—or supposed—to give. That doesn’t make you cold. It means you’ve learned something I’m still learning myself: compassion needs boundaries too.

I think that’s where discernment becomes so important. It gives us enough wisdom not to assume something is automatically bad simply because we don’t understand it, but it also keeps us from assuming everything is good simply because someone’s intentions sound good. You ask questions. You pay attention. You do your homework. You listen to what people are saying, and sometimes you pay even closer attention to what they aren’t saying. You look at what you’re responsible for, consider what happens if you’re wrong, and then make the best decision you can with the information you have.

Sometimes that decision will allow you to help. Sometimes you’ll discover an entirely different way to help. And sometimes you’re going to take the whole thing apart, examine every piece, look under the table to make sure you didn’t drop anything, put it all back together—and realize the answer is still no. That’s okay too, because discernment isn’t always about discovering the hidden yes. Sometimes discernment is doing enough work that when you finally say no, you can walk away knowing you didn’t say it out of fear, ignorance, judgment, or inconvenience. You said it because you looked at everything in front of you and knew it was the right thing to do.

And there is a whole lot of peace in that kind of no—even for somebody like me who is probably still going to ask one more question just to make sure. 😂