When Life Tests What You Believe
Updated: 14 hours ago
Reflections on a year of growth, challenges, and remembering what matters most.
At the beginning of 2026, I felt like Andrew Goodwin Designs was finally hitting its stride.
We welcomed Tony Pavone as a new partner in the firm. Projects that had been years in the making were finally coming out of the ground, including the Scout Hotel in Truckee, the FoodLink Agroecology Center in Exeter, and the Round Valley Indian Tribes Childcare Center in Northern California.
(Images: Scout Hotel, Round Valley Indian Tribes Childcare Center, and FoodLink of Tulare County)
After more than a decade of building a firm around a mission of doing meaningful work, it felt like everything was coming together. We were working with incredible clients, creating projects that mattered, and proving that an architecture firm could be successful while putting people and purpose first.
And then life reminded me what that really means.
Early in the year, my family was confronted with cancer. Suddenly, the projects, deadlines, and daily challenges of running a business took a back seat to something far more important.
I did what I imagine many people in my position would do. I threw myself into understanding the situation, figuring out what needed to happen, and doing everything I could to help my family fight through it.
I also worked. A lot.
Not necessarily because the firm needed me to, but because work became a coping mechanism. Architecture has always brought me joy, and during some incredibly dark moments, it gave me something familiar to hold on to.
But something else happened during that time. Our team stepped up.
They took on responsibilities, supported one another, and helped carry a weight that I couldn't carry alone. I don't know that I'll ever be able to adequately thank them for what they did.
And as the year continued, other members of our AGD family began facing their own battles with cancer and serious health challenges. Once again, our team stepped up. My heart is with each of them and their families. I wish I could take away some of the weight they're carrying, but if this year has taught me anything, it's that sometimes the most important thing we can do is simply show up for one another.
There have been moments when I've wondered how much more we can take. How do we maintain our enthusiasm, creativity, and optimism when life seems determined to test us?
(Our team and extended members at AGD)
I don't have a perfect answer.
But I do know that I've never been more grateful for the people who have taken this path with me.
We've always said that AGD is a people-first firm. We encourage our team to put their families first, to find balance, and to remember that life exists beyond the office. This year, those words were tested in ways I never anticipated. And I'm proud to say they weren't just words.
I'm grateful for our clients, too. The ones who believe architecture can be about more than simply delivering a building. The ones who challenge us to think differently, who value our mission, and who choose to work with us even when another path might be cheaper or easier.
As architects, we're often measured by what we create. Their beauty, functionality, budgets, and schedules all matter. But I believe the greater measure of our work, and more so our lives, is our ability to show up for other people.
If I'm fortunate enough to spend another twenty or thirty years practicing architecture, I hope it's spent creating places that recognize our shared humanity. Places that strengthen communities, respect our environment, and ask how we can do better than simply meeting the minimum standard.
More importantly, I hope I continue to surround myself with people who believe those things matter.
This year has reminded me that gratitude isn't simply about appreciating the good things that happen to us. Sometimes it's about recognizing the people who stand beside us when things aren't good at all.
I'm grateful that I still find joy in what I do every day. That architecture can pull me out of some incredibly dark places. And that the work we do can remind me why it's worth persevering.
For the people we love. For the environment we cherish. And for the communities we call home.
That, to me, is something worth being grateful for.
Written by Andrew Goodwin
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