to live, to love, to learn, to leave a legacy… and to laugh along the way
On our last night in Davao, I asked what they had learned from our trip. After hearing many of the kids offering gratitude for the trip, a young boy – someone who had stayed silent and detached for most of the trip – raised his hand slowly, his eyes wide and innocent, and when acknowledged, spoke candidly in their dialect. His words pierced straight through my heart: “I learned that not all soldiers are killers.” Silence. “And not all Christians are land-grabbers,” he added.
By letting me glimpse the heavy burden behind the stars on his shoulders, he transformed my writing from simply efficient to deeply authentic. I was no longer just ghostwriting official correspondence or crafting strategic speeches; I was learning to articulate the heartbeat of the leader. That was when I found out that good writing isn’t measured by eloquence. It is measured by authenticity.
Color My World 